The Dragon & the Alpine Star

by Allison Norfolk

“In the past it was always done with a queen or a duchess or some other ruler, though I believe that was simply for the sake of tradition. It may have begun because such women are always the ones most desperate to have children of their husband’s blood, to keep the ruling family in power, and my ancestors took advantage of that. The woman in question is given instructions on how to grow a particular flower made from the crushed powder of a buried lindworm scale. She is told to eat only one petal of the flower, but they always eat more and if they do they give birth not only to their own human child but to a lindworm as well.”

  Now Frau Beck thought she was going to be sick imagining it. To settle her stomach she took a quick sip of tea, and managed to say, “Why do they always eat more than one petal?”

  “Who can say?” The lindworm shifted from side to side a little, mimicking a human shrug. “I am merely repeating what was told to me by my father, when I asked about the circumstances surrounding my own birth.”

  “I…see. And how have the lindworms made these bargains? Surely they haven’t spoken to the queens in person. I imagine that would cause quite a stir, if they were all your size.”

  “That part, I am less certain of. My father mentioned that there was always a go-between, though how such a one might be contacted I have no idea. She was supposed to be a woman with some sort of power over plants, who then—” He paused and looked at her, and it appeared they both realized at the same time what he was referring to. “—attended the birth as a midwife,” he finished, still sounding stunned.

  “A hedgewitch,” Frau Beck whispered. One of her own kind had aided in such horrific, dishonest bargains. More than once. She wanted to get up and stalk into the woods right then, but common sense held her back. It wasn’t as if he had any hand in her being here, and all stalking into the dark woods would do was serve to get her lost. She’d probably walk off an unseen cliff or trip over a rock and break a leg. But it did seem like a hideous coincidence that she, an experienced hedgewitch, be the first human to come in contact with possibly the last lindworm living on the planet.

  “It must be,” the lindworm said, “though I never understood what my father meant until now.”

  They stared into the fire. Frau Beck didn’t want to know what the lindworm was thinking. Her own mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t imagine a hedgewitch agreeing to be party to such a thing, but then she certainly didn’t know all the hedgewitches that had ever been. They might be constrained to only use their magic with benevolent intent, and historically their training tended to emphasize a sense of duty to help others with their powers, but that didn’t necessarily translate into any kind of strict moral code. There was a lot of room for interpretation. Hedgewitches were as susceptible as any other person to the temptations of gain, and she could easily picture a scenario where a wealthy woman—like, for example, a queen desperate for an heir—might pay handsomely to a person who could guarantee her a child by whatever means necessary.

  Eventually, just for something to say, she asked, “So, who was your human mother? Was she a queen?” Forty years ago that would have been more likely than it was today; the war had meant the end of longstanding monarchies in Germany, Austria-Hungary, Russia and the Ottomans of Turkey, just to name a few.

  “No. I believe her name was Stéphanie of Austria. She gave birth to a human girl, my twin sister, after she brought me into the world.”

  Frau Beck blinked. “Stéphanie. Of Austria. As in, Crown Princess Stéphanie, wife of Prince Rudolf?”

  “Perhaps. Yes, I believe that is what my father said. It is coming back.”

  Frau Beck whistled between her teeth. Unladylike, and Frau Heller would have scolded her had she heard it, but her mentor was far from being able to scold her now. Amazing how the lessons of childhood stayed in the back of your mind. Really, she was avoiding the inevitable conclusions from the lindworm’s assertion, but she couldn’t entirely turn her mind off. She gave a choking, breathless laugh.

  “What is it?” asked the lindworm.

  “I had no idea I was sitting with the long-lost heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, that’s all.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “How do you mean?”

  “How much do you know about your mother’s family?”

  “Not much, other than the few things my father said. I had the impression he wasn’t particularly interested, either way. It isn’t as if they ever met face-to-face.”

  Frau Beck shook her head in amazement. “Bear in mind, this is only what I know from the occasional newspaper. Your mother was married to the Crown Prince of Austria-Hungary, the only son of the Emperor. After she gave birth to your, erm, twin sister, she had no more children. Since only males could inherit the Austro-Hungarian Imperial throne and the Crown Prince died before the Emperor, the position of heir passed to a cousin named Franz Ferdinand. He was murdered a few years ago, and his death caused a…well, caused the war. You know about the war, yes?”

  “Yes. I could hear the guns from here, when the fighting was close to the mountains. It went on for a long time.”

  “A very long time. So many dead.” She gulped, and took another drink of tea, only to find that it had cooled. She grimaced and swallowed anyway. “Oh, what could have been, had you been born a human…things might have been very different.” She cleared her throat. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps it would have been you killed in his stead, and nothing would have changed.” Surreptitiously she wiped a tear that had started to gather at the corner of her eye.

  “Hmmm.” He hummed deep in his throat, seeming not to notice her discomfit. “Do you know what happened to my sister? I have occasionally wondered.”

  “I don’t know much. She grew up, married some royal or noble or some such. Someone considered good enough for the granddaughter of an Emperor, I am sure. She became quite the revolutionary, in her own way. I believe they call her ‘the Red Archduchess’ in the papers. She is a strong supporter of socialism, a system that believes in throwing off the old monarchies and in the absolute equality of all. Quite a radical, for a former royal princess.”

  The lindworm nodded, apparently pleased with this news. “My vague impressions of her were of a strong mind. I am glad to hear that I was not mistaken in what little I remembered.”

  Frau Beck could not quite bring herself to ask how he had formed this impression. The twins she knew sometimes had mysterious connections no one could explain, and it was perfectly plausible that this might hold true even if one twin…wasn’t human. She gulped before her mind could wander too far into wondering whether the connection worked the opposite way, or if the baby princess had even known she had a twin brother.

  She wasn’t particularly inclined after that to converse; her questions had led too far into uncomfortable territory and she felt she was being justly punished for her inquisitiveness. She needed time to absorb what the lindworm had told her. Fortunately the lindworm also seemed lost in thought, not that he was ever particularly talkative. The only things spoken aloud for the rest of the evening were announcements of intentions to sleep.

  Frau Beck was up early the next morning. She’d had a restless night as her mind turned over the lindworm’s story and its meaning, and she had decided that it was time for her to depart. At the moment, she was still undecided about whether she ever meant to come back.

  The lindworm, roused by her movements despite her efforts to be quiet, watched her through half-opened eyes as she packed up her camp. “You are leaving, then?” he asked as she put the final bag of herbs into her pack.

  “Yes,” she answered shortly.

  “Before you leave, may I ask you for something?”

  Frau Beck stilled. Her stomach clenched, but she stood and turned to face him, striving for a neutral face. She could feel her fingers curling into fists, hidden in her long skirt. She already had a sense she knew what he wanted.

  “Will you find a woman to bear me a child?”

  And there it was. Frau Beck had helped many people do impro
bable things over the years, but this request made her insides roil even having spent the night preparing to hear the question. She shook her head. “No.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  “Because to trick a hopeless woman…it’s vile. I can’t tell you how many barren women have come to me over the years, begging me to help them get a child. I’ve been able to help many of them with my magic, but there were a few that I couldn’t. They would have taken your bargain without a second thought, and I won’t be party to using someone’s desperation like that.”

  “And the end of my kind means nothing to you? Wouldn’t you seize the opportunity that had wandered into your cave, if you were me? I am not growing any younger.”

  “I won’t do it.” She avoided answering his questions. “I won’t deceive an innocent young woman like that. She would trust me to take care of her, and I would violate that trust.”

  “What if you explained, and she still agreed?”

  Frau Beck snorted. “And what would I say? In exchange for getting a child of your own, you just have to carry a monster for nine months?”

  A coldness settled between them, and she realized what she’d said. She was too angry on behalf of the unknown potential mother to apologize, however. She remembered her own pregnancy, how much love she’d poured into her unborn child. How would it have felt, to lose that child, however strange, at the moment of birth after carrying it close to her heart for all those weeks?

  As much as it had hurt to lose her own son, even though he had been grown to manhood. The idea was unbearable. She couldn’t do that to someone else. She couldn’t.

  Snatching up her pack, she slung it over her shoulder and stalked away. Her arms wrapped around herself, squeezing tight, and tears began to pour down her face as she went, but she kept walking out of sight of the cave, back towards Brig.

  She marched blindly, not truly aware of her surroundings and unable to bring herself to care. Time passed, but she didn’t mark it. She stomped through meadows, kicking at flowers in her blind fury. What little awareness she had focused on keeping the sun in the right position to get her back home, and keeping her from running headlong into a rock or a tree.

  Which was how she found herself coming around a particularly large boulder and was suddenly a few strides from an enormous brown bear. Its warning snarl brought her out of her cycle of anger and misery with a bump.

  She was already far too close to it for comfort, and any sudden movements would likely provoke it further. Frau Beck stared stupidly for an extra second, and then slowly reached into her pocket.

  Only to be met with a few dried crumbles that stuck to her fingers, nothing more. Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end as she realized that she had forgotten all about replenishing her herb mixture for confusing predators so that she could escape. She was as defenseless as any other lone woman foolish enough to wander in the remote parts of the mountains, and she had no other weapons. There weren’t even any stray branches or stones within reach.

  She allowed herself a single second to curse her own stupidity. Now she had to make a choice: back away and hope it didn’t follow, or try to discourage the already-angry bear by convincing it she wasn’t worth attacking. This wasn’t like the situation with the lindworm, where she had easily concluded her life was forfeit until he had proved to be a reasoning creature. Here, the right choice would let her escape, while the wrong would result in a messy and painful death.

  She had never been one to back down from a challenge. She drew herself up to her full height and bared her teeth in a snarl, into which she poured all her frustration and fury at everything that had led her here.

  The bear seemed taken aback, but only for a moment. It raised itself onto it hind legs, at which point it towered over her by a good three feet, and roared a challenge of its own.

  Yes, she had made the wrong choice, and now she would pay the price. Cold sweat trickled down her temples and the small of her back, but she was committed. She screamed wordlessly right back at the bear.

  Whereupon it promptly lowered itself and charged.

  Frau Beck had half a second to contemplate the mountain of rippling muscle and brown fur headed right for her when a bigger, deeper roar seemed to shake the very earth on which they stood. She staggered to one side, thrown off balance, and the bear skidded to a halt so hard it practically sat down on its voluminous hindquarters. It stared with small, dark eyes at something behind her. Then, with a frightened cry, it turned and fled, loping away at a surprising speed for a creature so bulky.

  Frau Beck felt hot breath brush her neck, and she looked sideways into the dark green eye of the lindworm. His teeth were bared, the crest around his neck flared large, and he looked truly ferocious. But she had used up all of her fear, and she was so relieved that she forgot to be afraid despite finding him so close.

  “T-thank you,” she managed, once she had sucked in a breath.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his crest beginning to settle. “I can smell that you are not bleeding, but do you have any other injuries?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She patted herself a little ineffectually, still in a daze that she wasn’t currently being mauled to death.

  “In that case, will you wait here and I will finish my hunt?” Without waiting for an answer, he set off at a rapid pace in the direction the bear had gone. Watching him go, one hand against the boulder for support and the other on her beating heart, Frau Beck had little doubt he would soon overtake her attacker despite the bear’s own speed and head start. The lindworm had the wide, splay-legged run of most lizards and his sheer size meant he covered a lot of ground with one stride. He soon disappeared from sight among the rocks.

  Even though she hadn’t agreed to wait for his return, she couldn’t make her legs move. For a few minutes she leaned against the boulder, getting her breath and heartbeat under control. Once she was calmer, she began looking around the surrounding meadow for the plant components of her mixture to deter large predators. She was not interested in repeating the incident with the bear again.

  In the distance, a guttural howl bounced off the mountain peaks. Frau Beck winced, guessing the source, and felt a little sorry for the bear even though she was glad she hadn’t ended up its victim.

  By the time the lindworm returned, her shakes were under control and she had gathered enough herbs to begin mixing. She was seated with her back against the boulder for this process, though she got to her feet when she saw the lindworm approaching.

  “I should thank you,” he said without preamble. “Bears are good eating, even lean from hibernation, and there aren’t many of them. I won’t need to eat again at least for a few days. Are you recovered?”

  “Yes, thank you. Normally, I would have been able to drive him off with my magic, but…well…thank you. Your timing was excellent.” Her fingers reached out to stroke his muzzle without her realizing it, and she quickly drew them back before she actually touched him. “Why did you follow me?”

  “I am…not really certain. At first, it was to speak with you again about my request once you had calmed down. But then…you were upset…it is dangerous for a human in these mountains, and it was obvious you were not paying much attention to your own danger. So I decided to make certain you reached your home in safety. And a good thing for us both that I did.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Frau Beck glanced in the direction the bear had gone and suppressed another shudder. There was no doubt she owed the lindworm her life, now. He could have waited until the bear was distracted with ripping her to pieces and made a much easier meal, but he had gone to the trouble of driving it away from her. If he had been a creature driven by hunting instincts, or had been angry with her refusal to help him find a woman to trick into bearing another lindworm, then she might very well be in dire straits right now.

  “I am very sorry for what I said before,” she said. She ducked her chin in contrition, shame heating her face. “I should never have imp
lied that you are a monster. It was wrong, and unjust.”

  He regarded her for a moment, tilting his head in thought. At last, he said, “I thank you for that.”

  “May I…come to visit you again?” she asked. “Perhaps in a few weeks? I have things to attend to in town, but I would like to come back, if you don’t mind. I could bring more sausage.” She smiled, to show she was teasing. Then she sobered. “You can tell me no, and I won’t intrude again. I would swear to it.”

  “You may come back, if you wish. Your presence is not unwelcome,” he said. His forked tail swished gently towards her, and then away, then back, coming to rest near her foot. “I am pleased I reached you in time. I should be sorry not to see you anymore.”

  Not a monster, certainly, she thought. Then she laughed as she realized something.

  “What is it?” he asked, sounding a little affronted.

  “I just realized I never told you my name. It’s Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina Beck. Do you have a name? What should I call you?”

  He seemed to consider. “I do not think a human could pronounce the name my father gave me. You may simply call me Herr Lindworm, if you like.”

  “It seems…impersonal. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Ah, but isn’t the purpose of a name to distinguish you from others of your kind? And I am the only one you are likely to encounter, am I not? You may call me what I am.”

  Frau Beck wanted to argue, but she had to concede this was true. She supposed with time she might get used to it, but now that she’d thought of it the notion didn’t sit well. Perhaps she could make up a name sometime in the future and see what he thought of it.

  He insisted on following her to within an hour’s walk of Brig, though she explained that she was completely protected from more bears since she had had the time to gather herbs for the spell. Privately she appreciated the gesture, however, as she was still a little jumpier than she would like to admit.

  The entire way back, what part of her mind she could spare was in turmoil, enough that she almost forgot to make herself invisible again in time. By the time she let herself back into her flat, she had decided to look around the town and see if there might be a girl or a woman who was even remotely worth considering to do what he had asked. Much as she still detested the idea, she felt she owed it to him to at least check before she dismissed the entire notion out of hand.