by Arthur Slade
“That would be a great start,” Brax said.
Dyn set the wood down next to the fire, chose several slender pieces and piled them so that within a few seconds the flames had doubled and the cave began to become very warm.
“It is a big cow,” he said.
“Then bring me the big cow.” Brax let out a raspy cough. “Meat will go a long way to getting me back to health.”
“Well, it is really, really big,” Dyn added. “And it had big horns. Big, big horns, my lord.”
“Are you trying to hint at something?” Brax said.
“I’ll help you bring it in,” I said, realizing what was going on. Dyn didn’t seem to want to ask Brax for help. Perhaps he feared questioning his command. “I assume it’s outside.”
“Yes. We have a cold storage cave. I would really, really appreciate your help. Thank you so much for understanding. I look forward to feeding the mighty dragon.” Again, there wasn't even a trace of sarcasm in his words.
Dyn led the way out of the cave. Brax had already settled his head nearer the fire.
Outside the mouth of the cave, the cold hit me hard and I wrapped my cloak around me. I was growing tired and the thought of carrying a big, big cow didn’t make me feel any better. Dyn strode about twenty yards to a mound of stone with a wooden door. He unlocked it using a key from his pocket, and we stepped into the meat locker. It was a large place and looked to be half full of food. “We keep everything frozen,” Dyn said. “And then we cook it.”
What? Is that so! I almost said, but I bit my tongue because it was obvious he was attempting to make conversation. He likely hadn’t spoken to any other humans for… well, who knows how long. And it wasn’t like I was the best conversationalist.
“Oh. Good idea,” I said.
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
“I am relieved to hear that,” he said. “I’ve had enough mocking for several lifetimes. Dragons do mock everything and everyone. And I’m afraid of your dragon.”
“He’s harmless,” I answered, though I remembered the sound of sheep bones snapping in his jaws. Or the way he fearlessly confronted the emperor of Akkad. “Well, as far as dragons go.”
“Oh, he’s not harmless.” Dyn had his back to me now. The light of the moon was bright enough to show several animal carcasses stacked one on top of the other. Well, I was pretty certain they were all animals. Even though I was a trained assassin, I didn’t like seeing farm animals frozen without being butchered. I preferred to see them as steaks. “He’s a murderer,” Dyn added.
“He’s what?” I grabbed his shoulder.
Dyn jumped, smacking into a pile of frozen sheep. He put up his hands. “Sorry! I still find you intimidating.”
“Me? Why?”
“Umm. You killed my master. I saw the whole battle from the cave. You faced a Hvitur dragon and killed him. I didn’t think that was possible for a mortal. But maybe you aren’t mortal, you’re some kind of god or goddess or half-god thing. It would explain why your one eye is so… so powerful. That’s why I hid under the blankets.”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “I’m not a god. Or a goddess. And I’m not that intimidating once you get to know me. I’m mortal just like you. I do like my eye, though.”
“Mortal? Darius hit you full blast with his fire and you walked through it.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. I couldn’t think of an excuse or a way to explain that series of events. “I’m still trying to figure out why I’m still alive. Speaking of figuring things out, what did you mean about Brax being a murderer?”
“You don’t know? He killed his sister. That’s why he was banished. Fratricide is one of the worst crimes for dragons. He tore his very own sister to a hundred pieces.”
“That’s… that’s a lie.” I spat the words out.
“It’s not. I mean I didn’t see it myself. But his sister is dead. I know his name. Everyone knows Brax. All the dragons talk around us slaves because we aren’t really there.” He stood straighter. “Brax is famous, or what’s the word—in famous.”
“Infamous,” I corrected. “It’s one word, not two.”
“Yes, that. He’s infamous for killing his own sister. An unforgivable crime.”
“Why did he do that?” I asked. “I mean if he even did it, that is.”
“She was going to marry a prince?”
“A human prince?”
Dyn laughed at this. “Oh you really aren’t from here, are you? That’s not possible. No, a dragon prince. But not the right one. And Brax—he killed her in a fit of anger. It’s what the other dragons say. I’ve heard it enough times it has to be true. Why else would they banish him?”
“I don’t know.” For the hundredth time I wondered who he would want me to kill. His father? Would that bring the banishment to an end? “Does he have any other enemies?”
“Every living and breathing dragon is his enemy,” Dyn said.
“Oh.” There was a lot here to think about and my arms were getting colder, my brain slowing down. I needed sleep. I had just killed a dragon and my body was tired. “We had better get back to the cave. Where is this cow?”
He pointed at a carcass. It had been a large cow and though it had been stripped of its hide, the horns had been left on it. Just as Dyn had promised they were very long horns.
I grabbed on to those horns and together we half carried, half dragged it to the cave.
“Ah, dinner has arrived,” Brax said, when we huffed and puffed our way in. “That is a big cow. It took you long enough to get it. Did you talk about anything interesting?”
“Just about cows,” I said.
10
The Crunching of Bones
Dyn lifted a large metal grate and placed it over the fire, and then I helped him drop the cow on the grate. The bovine cooked at a rapid pace and, all the while, Dyn basted it with spices and oil. He’d obviously done this many times, and I was soon salivating.
The moment he declared it finished, Brax said, “You eat first.”
“Oh,” Dyn said. “My lord Darius never allowed me to eat until he was finished.”
“Please do so now, Dyn,” Brax insisted.
I was going to question why Brax was being so polite then felt a rush of stupidity. I remembered Maestru Alesius’s words: the seemingly kind can always poison food. I was tired. I was too trusting. Brax was right.
“Your maestru would be proud of me,” he said, as if reading my mind.
Dyn tore a rib off and ate it, looking a little uncomfortable as he did so. But he didn’t turn green, nor did he clutch his throat or stop breathing. “Is that enough?” he asked. “I am feeling rude eating first.”
“It’s enough,” Brax said. “You go next, Carmen.”
At first I thought he wanted to be doubly sure it wasn’t poisoned, but then realized he was being kind.
Once we’d taken our share, Brax asked, “Have you had enough?”
I nodded and so did Dyn. Brax stretched his snout over the fire and clutched the rest of the cow in his jaw. Even though he was eating the same thing as I was, I turned away. Dragons were terrifying to watch when they ate. I couldn’t block the crunching of bones, though. He ate so slowly I could count the snapping of each rib. My appetite vanished into nothingness.
But not eating was stupid since I was getting more tired. So I ate, happily accepting several boiled carrots that Dyn had produced from a pot. “You’re a good cook,” I said.
“I have to be. Otherwise my lord Darius would have killed me.”
“Well." I pointed a carrot at him. "I guess that sharpens your skills.”
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked. His metal plate was clear.
“What, there's dessert?” I said this as a joke.
But he pulled out a wooden box layered with sweet berry biscuits. I scarfed down two with such speed his eyes widened—I guess it wasn’t polite. I rubbed my lips. “Those were excellent,” I said.
“
As I mentioned, it was life or death if I wasn’t good at these things. I much preferred life.” His amazingly straight teeth glinted as he smiled.
I couldn’t imagine living with the constant threat of a dragon bite or flame over your head. It would change how one lived in the world.
“I will sleep now,” Brax said. The horned head of the bovine was only a few feet away from him. “The cow was good. Thanks. If your friend does anything sneaky or untoward, you have my permission to kill him.”
“I will, Brax,” I said.
I chuckled at the look of fright on Dyn's face.
“It’s just his sense of humor,” I explained. “And mine. You’ll get used to it.”
“I hope I live long enough to appreciate it,” he said.
I wanted to ask him if he knew anything else about Brax, but the dragon had good ears.
“If we are going to leave,” Dyn said, “then I will pack things for you to eat on your journey. And I will have to pack for my journey.”
He was a helpful sort. I guess being helpful was another survival skill. He stood and walked around the cave, shoving foodstuff and other items into leather bags. I noticed that he had two books and thought of asking him which they were, but I became too tired to make conversation.
Later, I would ask about the books later.
In time I discovered that I was too tired to move, so I leaned against Brax’s side. He was warmer now—the fire was doing its job. I closed my eyes to rest them. I opened them again a moment later. Closed them.
And, traitorous eyelids that they were, they stayed closed the third time.
My eyelids snapped open. The fire had died down. Dyn wasn’t within sight, and I quickly got into a sitting position and jerked my head left and right, looking around. The cave was empty. He had fled while we slept. How stupid of me to close my eyes.
But then he walked into the cave with three frozen plucked chickens. “I figured you’d be hungry when you awoke.” He placed more wood on the fire and began roasting them.
My training should have prevented me from falling asleep in front of a potential enemy. He might have been able to kill at least one of us before the other awakened. I hadn't even searched the cave for weapons.
But I didn’t know if he was brave enough to try, if his thoughts went that direction.
It was a surprisingly short time later that he offered me a cooked chicken. Again the spices were perfect. The smell awakened Brax, who snapped the second chicken out of Dyn’s hands. He checked to be certain he wasn’t missing any fingers.
“Thanks,” Brax said. It was a large chicken and it disappeared in a gulp. “We will leave now—we have probably stayed too long.”
I had only finished part of my meal. “But, what about Dyn?”
“I can’t carry him. His fate is in his own hands. He can explain what happened here and hope for mercy, or he can flee and try to live as a fugitive. But he can’t come with us. One human is hard enough to look after.”
“I understand,” Dyn said. “I believe my best chance is to go across the wastelands. There are villages where craftsmen ply their trades, making instruments and devices for dragons. I may find employment as an apprentice.”
“Good,” Brax said. “Well, pack up, Carmen. We will fly further today and hope to avoid any more guardians. Bring what’s left of the chicken in a bag.”
Dyn packed up my chicken and passed me a canvas bag. “There is more food in here,” he said. “And cookies. My lord Darius really liked them.”
“Thank you," I said. "You have been exceedingly kind."
When we reached the edge of the cave Brax stumbled, then righted himself. I took a step toward him but he snapped, "Get back! Get back.”
He hobbled out of the cave and spread his wings and swept them up and down and lifted off the ground an inch at a time.
Too slowly. One wing folded and he crashed snout-first into the snow.
“I can’t fly,” he grumbled, spitting out snow. “Which means we are soon dead.”
11
The Warm Waters
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean that other guardians will arrive and they will kill us. You may have surprised Darius with the ‘your flames aren’t so tough’ trick, but two or three guardians against you—well let’s say they’d each be playing with one of your limbs.”
I frowned at the image. Why did he always come up with the most horrible endings for me? “That’s not what I meant. Why can’t you fly?”
“Oh, that,” he said. “It’s because I’m still too lethargic. I don’t want to explain the mechanics of flight to a lesser intellect, but freezing my wings was bad for them. The blood needs to heat even further. The fire helped, but what I need is exercise, warmth and time. Exercise I can do. Warmth and time we don’t have.”
“Where is it you want to go?” Dyn asked. He had kept a few feet away from both of us.
“To Dreki,” Brax said. Dyn paled a little more.
“Oh. Dreki, of course. Good choice, my lord.” But the way he said it made me think it was the last place Brax should be visiting.
“How would you suggest I get there? On foot? That should take about ten years.”
“Well, there is a barge here,” Dyn said. “I used it to get supplies and it’s large enough for both of you to ride on. Three of us, if necessary. And you could follow Byrn River to the divergence and from there you could take the right fork to Dreki.”
“A barge?” Brax’s voice now had the slightest bit of pep in it. “That would get us further away, and the further we are from here the better. The snow will cover Darius’s body. Maybe they’ll think he is on a long patrol.”
“There’s a tarp that would cover you and warm you even, my lord. We could pull it over you.”
“We?” Brax said.
“I mean before you left me here. I would set you up for the trip, my lord. Though the barge would be my means of getting to the village.”
“We can’t just abandon him without transport.” My breath turned to fog. “He’ll freeze.”
“So?” Brax said. “He’s not my problem.”
“We could take him to that village he mentioned,” I said. “Or as close to it as we could get.” Dyn was wisely keeping his mouth shut.
Brax looked at him and Dyn stared at the ground, clearly expecting flames or snapping teeth. Brax rolled his eye then glared at me.
“I have an important question,” he asked me. “Can you steer a barge?”
“A hard skill to pick up in a fortress on top of Mount Egret.”
Brax pointed a talon at Dyn. “Then you can guide us, Dyn the former slave. Go get your things and don’t make me regret this decision.”
“I won’t, I won’t, my lord,” he said. He bowed twice then raced back into the cave.
“You will not let him continue to call you ‘my lord,'” I said when Dyn was out of earshot.
“I like the sound of it. Proper respect! Perhaps I’ll decree that you both have to use that term. And bow, too.”
“Not in a hundred thousand years,” I said.
Dyn rushed back to us. He had thrown on a ragged cloak made of some thick fur and slung a haversack over his shoulder. He led us past the cave and down a hill to a small dock. The wooden barge was wide and flat and designed to carry a goodly amount of stores. All three of us fit as long as Brax stuck his head partly out over the water.
“You look like a masthead,” I said, but all I got was a grumble in return.
Dyn and I pulled the tarp over Brax to hide his shape from anyone looking down from the skies. And then Dyn grabbed a long pole and pushed us out onto the river. The current was fast, because we were suddenly traveling at a good clip. Dyn guided us into the center of the water using a tiller. We were now slowly being surrounded by fog.
“Wait a second,” I said. “How is it that the river isn’t frozen over?”
“You'll find Byrn River aptly named,” Dyn said. "Put your hand in it."
I did so and was surprised to find the water was almost hot.
“This river comes from the burning mountains," he explained, "and is fed further along by underground geysers and may also be heated by ancient magic. It makes traveling in this part of Drachia so much easier for two-leggers like me.”
“Who cast the spells to heat this water?” I asked.
“Ancient mage dragons. Or mage giants.”
Several questions sprouted in my mind at once. “There are giants here?” I asked.
“Oh, not anymore,” Dyn said. “The dragons slew them all many years ago. At least that’s what my lord Darius told me.”
“There weren’t that many giants,” Brax added, his voice muffled by the tarp. “So it’s not as awful as it sounds.”
“But you dragons killed the last of their kind!”
“You dragons?” Brax said. “The wars with the giants happened a thousand years before I first flapped wings out of my egg. I’d believe it all to be tall tales—excuse the pun—if I hadn’t seen the giant bones myself.”
He was gifted at coming up with images I didn’t want to see in my mind’s eye. Or anywhere. I couldn’t help but wonder whether dragons flew from the moment they cracked open their eggs, but decided it best not to ask.
We traveled for a few hours along the river. Soon, the heat rising from the water was so intense I had to undo my cloak. The mist thickened into a thick fog so we could only see a few feet in front of us. It sometimes felt as if we weren’t moving at all.
In time Dyn let me steer the craft and I learned a little about operating it, how the till would make it move left or right. According to Dyn, I nearly kept to the middle of the river. Neither of my eyes could see through the fog much more than a few feet.
“This was a good idea,” Brax said. He'd been quiet long enough that I thought he might be asleep. “The mist makes us almost invisible. Excellent work, Dyn.”
“Hearing of your happiness makes my heart shine, my lord," he said. I did not think words like that could be delivered without a hint of sarcasm. He truly sounded as if all of his dreams had come true.