The Last Dragon 2

by LeRoy Clary

  I gave that some consideration because my first thoughts of actually questioning those with magic was to realize that all the rest of the people should have been jealous. We should have wanted to know how the mages and sorceresses are so superior and we should have questioned everything about them. I would want my child to have the best, to be the best. Yet, there were those who were so far advanced my family could never become part of them.

  Instead, we sat back and accepted their benevolence, their rain for our crops, their “help” in battle (while the other side often also had a mage helping them). The sorceresses foretold possible futures, usually favorable in matters of love or wealth. They seldom revealed how they could manipulate feelings or choices a person made.

  However, all those thoughts could be put aside for now. I’d allowed my mind to slip away from the single important item it needed to dwell upon during the night. We had a dragon, the last one in the known world, sitting at the edge of our campsite, its eyes focused on some unknown thing on the top of the mountain pass, and it acted as if danger would come from there.

  No matter what it looked at, I saw no way it was going to be a good morning. I considered turning tail and running back to Trager. Things just don’t work out that way. While it was the first dragon I’d ever been around, interpreting its actions should be avoided because of lack of information, I couldn’t help myself. When it had landed on the road and first sniffed us after Kendra had freed it, and on the mountaintop above Mercia, it had moved with grace and power. Now it reminded me of a small bird in a nest as it watches hidden dangers as cats prowl the ground.

  The dragon’s actions were quick, its eyes darting to the smallest movement, the muscles in its legs tight and rippling. I turned to Kendra. “What do you think?”

  “Her claws are extended. She’s angry, or fearful, I can’t tell which.”

  “About what?” I asked. “Can you tell anything?”

  She considered the question before speaking. “There are no mages nearby, in fact, none I can sense. No sorceresses either. Just the ones far away. She is not scared of wyverns but does not like them. I think she hates them.”

  Flier said, “Anybody mind if I sharpen my blade?”

  That was the smartest thing I’d heard said all night. The other blade we’d taken from the ambushers also needed attention. A common stone near my foot would do, so I reached for it. The stone was fine-grained but would never touch my sword, not that it needed sharpening. Kendra sat beside me, while the girls huddled near the red coals of the fire.

  Glowing coals? With an unknown danger possibly coming? None of us would have any night vision, and anybody or anything attacking would know precisely where we were. In my anger and excitement, I shot out a mental command so powerful that Anna winced, then shot to her feet and kicked dirt over the remaining coals.

  *Sorry* I said in her mind and earned a small smile.

  “What just happened?” Kendra asked.

  Flier’s tilt of his head indicated he wanted to know, too. “With even coals remaining, we lose night vision, and the light from it will still lead whatever is coming right to us. I sent a mental ‘panic’ to Anna, and she put it out.”

  Kendra didn’t seem especially surprised. “Can she answer you?”

  “No. At least, not that I know of.”

  “With your mind, you did that?” Flier said. “You spoke to her? I have heard of mages speaking across great distances, but I’ve also heard of swans that turn into bears that eat disruptive children.” He gave an attempt at laughing that failed.

  “Had you ever heard of flying dragons?” Kendra asked. “Not Wyverns, but true-dragons?”

  His laugh came to an abrupt halt. “There were stories of Wyverns told by responsible people, but I’d never seen one until this last few years. Nobody told serious tales of seeing a dragon.”

  I said, “Then our story is almost the same. A month ago they were myths.”

  He gave me a quizzical look that almost brought a smile to my lips. He finally said, “The little one, Emma, faced down this dragon. Is she a sorceress?”

  Kendra and I exchanged glances. She shrugged. “We are trying to tell you the truth, but we don’t know what’s happening any more than you. Emma may be a sorceress—or something else. She has magic in her.”

  “Twice Damon has asked you if there are any mages nearby,” he said, then waited for her answer.

  “As I said before, I can sense them in my mind. Not talk to them or anything, but if they are within a certain distance, I know it. Same with the dragon.” She hadn’t even hesitated in explaining. “He asked because the appearance of a mage might indicate an attack on us.”

  He wiped his stone along the edge of the sword a few more times, the sound of stone on steel ringing in the still night air. His thumb tested the sharpness. “We all have secrets, I guess.”

  Anna pounced on his statement as she and Emma moved to sit at my side and peer at him in the starlight. “What are yours?”

  He seemed confused, then sighed. “Yes, we all have them. Mine is that I am more than a simple messenger. My father was an advisor to the King of Vin, who was part of the royal family of Kondor. Not that we were royal, but my family was so wealthy we sometimes loaned the crown gold. That’s how my father could afford to buy me a commission in the army.”

  Kendra said, “Vin is another small kingdom not ruled by a king today, right?”

  “That’s what I hear, but it was when I carried his messages to the king of Trager. Nobody knows who is on the Council of Nine for Kondor, and I assume the same in Vin, but my father would never betray the king.” He sat quietly for a moment then continued, “I fear for my family.”

  “What about all the gold your father has?” Anna asked brightly, her smile mischievous.

  “I don’t know. They may have taken it. But not all. Only fools keep all their wealth in a single place. I know where there are several emergency caches of gold and silver. In the history of our family, this isn’t the first adversity we’ve faced.”

  Considering our purses were emptier than I liked, and that we had a long way to go, the idea of a loan crossed my mind, but my lips remained closed. I tested the edge of the sword Kendra would use and found it acceptable—meaning it was as sharp as the metal would allow, but nothing like mine. The soft metal would dull quickly. It was tip-heavy and too wide to wield effectively, especially for someone smaller like my sister.

  I handed her mine. The light, thin blade in her hands would become a fierce weapon, while the heavier one would be more productive with me. Flier stood off to one side, waving his sword in the air as if in a victory celebration. Obviously, he had no swordsmanship skills at all.

  “Flier, let me show you a few more things,” I called with a laugh, intending to position his feet properly.

  He looked in my direction, then past me, to the top of the mountain pass, his eyes flaring wide with fear. He shouted, “There!”

  He needed to say no more as all eyes turned to look, and the roar of the Dragon would have drowned out any sound. Men seemed to appear from within the ground as they rose from hidden places, their backs covered with branches and leaves they’d attached to themselves to hide their dirty brown robes as they had crawled closer and closer. Each brandished a sword much like the one in my hand.

  There were too many to count in the dim light. I charged forward to meet the first, Flier at my side. While his skill was in question, his bravery and dedication were not. Together we faced ten or more men, all screaming and shouting as they raced our way.

  However, before they reached us, the dragon moved and blocked their path. It spread its wings and hissed as it extended its neck and snapped a mouth full of wicked teeth in their direction. Only fools would continue their charge, and I slowed, holding out my arm to bar Flier from running past.

  At a shouted order, the attackers spread out. Flier and I stood in the protection of the dragon’s tail and warily watched. If they spread out enough, I c
ould probably take them on one at a time. Without bragging, my skills were considerable, as well they should be after so many years of daily instruction.

  However, with the protection of the dragon in front of me, I pulled my bow free, strung it, and reached for an arrow. As quickly as I could fit it to the string, my eyes were on the closest enemy, whoever they were. The arrow flew as I pulled another before the first struck a man dead center—which was an accurate description. Dead.

  The second arrow flew a little high but my small-magic corrected that while in flight, and a second warrior fell, an arrow centered in his chest, also. While only a sliver of a yellow moon and the bright white stars helped us see, at least our night vision helped us, and the attackers had no advantage in that regard.

  My third arrow struck as true as the first two, again with the help of magic. Flier said, “You are the best archer I’ve ever seen.”

  I wanted to make a joke to relieve the tension but saw another enemy stand from concealment and strike a familiar stance. He was also an archer. “Down,” I shouted.

  Flier and I dropped to the ground at the same time. An arrow passed harmlessly over me, but the danger was still there. I leaped to my feet, fitting an arrow and drawing on my small-magic at the same time. The arrow left my bow, and I dived to the ground again. Our arrows must have passed each other along the way, because before I hit the ground and rolled, the whistle of the arrow sounded.

  His missed. Mine didn’t. Kendra and the girls were well behind us, her with my sword in her hand as she retreated. She herded the girls back down the trail, probably looking for a place to defend if any attackers got past Flier and me. She would protect the girls as would any mother.

  The shouting had ceased after the first sounding. It was probably done to upset and confuse the victims, as was the waving of the swords in the dim night light. At other times, the scene would have scared me, too. Now, I stood behind a dragon that suddenly tensed and darted forward a dozen steps as quick as any snake strikes.

  It paused, then moved ahead again, twenty more steps. It was crouched and ready for another charge when one of the men who had been hidden as he laid in the thick brush leaped to his feet and fled in panic. He only took a step or two before the dragon snapped him up in her mouth and shook him like a dog with a rat.

  Both Flier and I were on the left side of the dragon, moving ahead after it moved, still using her great body as a shield. Flier moved slightly behind me, his sword in hand, his eyes searching for someone to fight. I had another arrow nocked and ready to fly but saw nobody. After their display of fierceness to scare us, they now hid in the darkness and waited.

  A scream penetrated the air. A woman’s scream. Kendra.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A t the sound of Kendra’s scream, I realized my mistake. In defending against those attacking on the left side of the dragon, I’d left the way open for those on the right to work their way past me to reach the girls. Kendra’s scream was more of a warning than fearful. With my sword in her hand, any attackers were about to face a sword wielded by one of the best.

  All that flashed through my mind in the smallest part of an instant. While turning to ensure my deductions were accurate, I made a second mistake. Not only had I heard my sister’s scream, but the dragon always appeared next to her when she was in danger. The dragon had been threatening any enemies who ventured too close to us, but it must have realized with that scream that Kendra was in trouble.

  The dragon spun at the sound, her long tail whipping to provide balance. While I also looked behind, I didn’t see the massive tail coming at me. It struck me shoulder-high. The impact knocked the breath out of me and sent me tumbling off the path and into a tangle of thorns and vines.

  Flier leaped after me. The tail had missed him, and he managed to dart out of the way as the dragon charged towards Kendra. Flier used his sword to slash away some of the clinging vines and helped me get untangled and to my feet.

  When I drew a deep breath and found nothing broken inside, my eyes turned to the four men surrounding us. The bow had been had been knocked out of my hand, and I didn’t know where it was. The sword Flier held in his inexperienced hand would only get him killed.

  I raised my empty hands in surrender. “Flier, don’t be a fool. Drop it.”

  He hesitated.

  “Now,” I ordered.

  The four didn’t attack. Flier said, “I won’t be taken prisoner again.”

  He defiantly stood in a crouch, his sword held ineptly low, his face intent on the single man in front of him, as he ignored the other three. He was surely going to die.

  Without giving it any thought, my fist balled, and I swung, striking him high on the side of his head. Flier stumbled, and the sword fell to the ground. Two of the attackers rushed forward, and in a few heartbeats, his hands were bound by a scarf one attacker had worn around his neck.

  I turned to the dragon in time to see it snatch a man in its mouth and bite down so hard the man popped like a pomegranate seed between a thumb and forefinger. The dragon tossed the lifeless body to one side and scanned the area for another. When it didn’t find one, it reared back in anger and roared a warning so loud that people across the sea in Dire must have wondered.

  That might be a slight exaggeration, but it was how I perceived it. My hands went to cover my ears, and my eyes shifted back to my situation. Two sword-tips were pressed against my middle, and an imposing man, a third, gazed calmly at me with intense eyes. He stood taller than most and wore a long, tan robe with a red scarf around his neck. He said, “Bind him.”

  My first thought was that if I got a hand on that scarf, I could choke him with it. My second was that choking him while two swords penetrated me didn’t seem the best way to do things. A third thought quickly followed, and a glance at the dragon confirmed that Kendra and the girls were safe. The dragon again blocked the entire path, and behind it, I caught a glimpse of a woman with a raised sword who looked back at me before turning and fleeing.

  I raised one arm to indicate—well, to indicate something positive to her, but I’m not sure what.

  The man with the red scarf had turned and walked back in the direction they had come from, to the top of the summit. Another man removed a brown scarf and used it to tie my wrists in front of me. A little use of magic would slip the knot free, and the same with Flier’s bindings, but then what? We had no weapons, and two more guards joined us, so there were six of them and two of us. Our weapons had been removed. They would kill us if we fought back.

  Flier scowled. “You hit me.”

  “I saved your life.”

  That didn’t seem to calm him at all as he pulled away from his guard and charged me, intending to butt me with his head since his hands were bound. The man with the red scarf paused long enough to watch Flier knocked to the ground by a guard. Then his lips twitched into what could have been the beginnings of a smile before he turned away and continued walking into the night.

  “Kendra and the girls are fine,” I told Flier without attempting to whisper. The guards had seen the same things we had, and they looked relieved to be ordered to move away from the dragon, as had those who were attacking the dragon.

  We walked most of the night, finally stopping when we reached a small lake surrounded by dense underbrush and small trees. A trail broke off the main one and took us deep into the vegetation, single-file. Near the far end of the lake, a clearing had been carved out of the green growth, a place concealed from the trail.

  Flier and I were fed a stew of fish, turnips, and carrots. The broth was thick and surprisingly tasteful. Only our feet remained bound while we ate, but there were two guards for each of us. We sat beside each other and emptied our bowls without talking. Flier avoided my eyes, and he remained angry with me for punching him. After a while, our wrists were bound again, and only one guard remained near us. When he briefly turned his head, I loosened the knots on the scarf with magic and slipped one hand free to scratch my head in pl
ain sight of Flier.

  Flier glanced my way, then his head almost twisted free of his neck as he spun to look again. By then my hand was slipping back into the scarf, and the knots were magically pulling tighter. My intent was to let him know the situation was not as ominous as he believed. I said, “Getting away is no problem. But what do we do after that?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “Getting caught a second time will be much worse,” I told him. “We need a plan.”

  He asked, “Are the girls nearby?”

  “I think so.”

  “The dragon?”

  “With them.” He pursed his lips and glanced around. I sat quietly and studied the situation. We were being fed, and our captors were not treating us badly, so escape wasn’t at the top of my list of concerns. The guard was now watching me, sensing something had happened, and he hadn’t seen it. I said to him, “You all speak my language?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d think you would speak the same as Kondor.”

  He spat. “Kondor. It is the language of dogs.”

  “Hey, I’m not from Kondor, friend. My home is Dire.” I flashed a winning smile that he ignored.

  His eyes checked out my complexion, features, and skin before he snorted in laughter and disbelief. “Dog.”

  I understood his humor. What I didn’t understand was that all our captors spoke my language so far from home. Dire is not a large kingdom, so there shouldn’t be diversity in language. There were variations in physical appearances. However, Dire also lay across a sea, a journey of several days on the fastest sailing ship. We called our language Common, but as far as I could see, we had little in common with our captors.

  As if to respond to Flier’s earlier questions, and to settle my mind, the dragon flew high above, making continuous circles above us. That calmed me more than words can express. The beast flew one circle after, like a single huge buzzard flying over a dead sheep. Her height was too high for arrows, but anyone looking up understood how quickly she could fall from the sky and attack. The instant my mind made the comparison with buzzards circling dead animals, I tried to shut it from my mind. There were hundreds of other things to consider, but I knew that one would remain.