The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  Flint sat upright and gave her a warning glare. “I wouldn’t hesitate to eat you, then.”

  “Then feast away!” Celesia challenged. “I will not be bullied by some dragon who needs a human’s help.”

  Groth looked at them. His lips twitched nervously.

  Flint heaved. “Your point is well made. I apologize, Celesia. I would never eat you, unless I wasn’t myself. That is what I fear, and why I need your help. I can explain further, once you deliver the dagger to us.”

  Celesia was about to turn her back on the dragon and sever the agreement she had just made with them when she heard the distant rumble of horses running. There were dozens of them. The growing sound approached from downstream, accompanied by the voices of men.

  “I thought I saw smoke up that way!”

  Celesia knew that voice. “Dálcort!”

  “Under my wings!” Flint barked.

  They obeyed. Flint extended his wings and wrapped them close to his body while opening his mouth. He inhaled the fire—spit and all—leaving no ash on the ground. The horsemen reached the hillock. Celesia couldn’t believe it. She could see through Flint’s massive wings, but the riders hadn’t noticed them.

  Some of the men covered the immediate area while others crossed the stream, calling out Celesia’s name in desperation. Dálcort’s horse was close. Too close.

  “I swear I saw a fire.” Dálcort looked at the purpled cliff. He then turned his head and sniffed at the air. “Where is that delicious smell coming from? You boy, have you found anything?”

  “Nothing,” Lyell said. “She’s not here, either.”

  Dálcort readied his steed. “Search on, then. We must find her tonight!”

  The party rode off to look elsewhere. Then, a minute later, Flint pulled his wings back. Celesia wondered how they were invisible, but for now, she thought it best to keep herself from asking another needless question. Just about anything was possible with Creatures of Magic.

  “Growt, Pwez rewove tis shtick frum mah mouwt?”

  “Oh, right!” Groth reached into Flint’s mouth and pulled the spit from his throat. The dragon smacked his mouth while the others stared at the acid-like, saliva-saturated horsemeat.

  “Bratwurst and gravy! There goes my supper!”

  Celesia tried her best to ignore the putrid smell of dragon phlegm dribbling from the ogre’s compromised meal. “If I should find this dagger and give it to you, will you use it to lift my curse?”

  “Of course we will!” Groth exclaimed. “If we can figure out how to work it, that is. Now, how do we get you back to your castle? It will be close to sunup before you return there.”

  “I’ll shatter that time,” Flint said, “if you’ll let me.”

  Celesia looked at his face. “How do you plan to do that?” The dragon lowered his neck and motioned for her to climb on. “You can’t be serious! You want me to ride on your back?”

  “It’s dark now. No one will see, if we fly low.”

  Hesitantly, Celesia climbed onto Flint’s shoulders and clung to his neck. Groth waved them farewell as the dragon jumped into the air. They reached the top of the cliff in seconds, and glided over the shady thicket. The swift exhilaration was new to Celesia, and she relished it. She had met a dragon—a real dragon, and he didn’t eat her. By all counts, she considered herself the luckiest girl in LaVóndia. Flint soared down the back of the mountain, swooped over the castle walls and landed cautiously near the stables. Flint was right. Their flight back to the castle lasted only a matter of seconds.

  “When you have the dagger, make your way to the clearing beyond the edge of the forest.” Flint lowered his head. “Grologroth and I will wait for you there.”

  “Thank you,” Celesia added, “for saving me.”

  The dragon smiled slyly. “See you in the forest.”

  He leapt in the air and vanished into the night.

  Chapter 5

  Fetching the Dagger

  Celesia snuck her way across the long shadows of the courtyard before she entered the castle through its small kitchen doors. She waited by the pantries, listening and looking for loitering chefs and scullery maids.

  Somebody was always managing the place, so it was a surprise to her that no one was around. The fire had reduced to ashes and dead coals. She then heard a horn blaring outside. Three rapid blows, the rare summoning for everyone in the castle to gather in the main hall.

  She assumed it was because of her.

  I’d better make good use of this ...

  Celesia climbed up a spiral stairwell, crept her way up the east wing, and made for the library. The torches burned steadily in the upper corridors. Unlike the rest of the castle host, she spotted the keeper of historical objects asleep in his armchair. A set of keys dangled on his belt as he shifted and snored. Celesia crept over the floor on her toes, being careful not to wake him. The dagger she sought had to be in the center of the library. Somewhere. And soon enough, she saw one encased in glass. She just had to see if the old weapon matched what the ogre had described, but the case was locked.

  She looked at the old man’s keys.

  I’m going to need those ...

  Celesia went to the man and untied the knot on his belt. When she finally unfastened the cord, the keys slipped and fell to the floor. An unsettling clamor flew down the corridor and echoed back to her ears. Celesia bolted and hid behind a shelf of scrolls as the old man opened his eyes. The horn blew once more, which caused him to glance up. He stretched his thick neck.

  “Summoning at this hour? What’s this about?”

  He stood from his chair and meandered away.

  Catching her breath, Celesia snatched the keys from the floor. She fumbled through seven of them before finding the right one. The glass lid was heavy, but not enough to keep her from the dagger. Incredible detail had gone into the making of this weapon, its handle made of cherry wood, and infused strands of decorative silver. She pulled it from the scabbard. An untarnished silver blade, just as Flint and Groth had described.

  Now how do I get to the forest without being seen?

  The dragon’s invisibility would’ve proven useful for this, not that she wanted to keep her safety a mystery from her people. It was simply better for her to stay out of sight, to keep the creatures a secret. No one believed in her curse. They wouldn’t believe in a dragon saving her life, either. Sheathing the dagger, Celesia went back the way she came. Upon hearing new voices down the corridor, Celesia darted for the nook of an archway. She waited and watched as guards walked by.

  “Who would do such a terrible thing?” her father cried. “First the main hall, and now her chambers?” His voice grew more furious with every word he spoke. “When I find who did this—”

  “What do you suppose the thief was looking for?” asked Conand, the captain of the guard. “We checked everyone. They’re all accounted for. Nothing else seems out of order in most rooms.”

  Celesia held onto her breath as her sorrowful father passed.Was there a thief in my room? What did he take?

  “Have your men keep searching,” the king said more desperately. “Find my daughter and the thief. Make use of Dálcort’s men if you have to. We can’t allow this thief to escape!”

  “As you wish. We’ll find them soon enough.”

  The captain marshaled his men, and they ran ahead. Celesia pressed deep into the crevice, breathing slowly when they walked by. So much had transpired around her that it was difficult to keep up with everything.

  Her father cried. “I have failed you Clariön,” he said. “I couldn’t keep her safe ...”

  Celesia took a chance and looked down the corridor, enough for one eye to see. As her father sobbed down the corridor, Mavarco was striding by his side, holding a lantern. “I am sorry I did not encounter the intrusion sooner. I would have intercepted the culprit myself.”

  Their steps fell soft to Celesia’s ear, the more they walked away. “Thank you, Mavarco,” the king said. “You have been m
ost helpful.”

  “Worry not. She and the culprit will be found.”

  Checking both corridors, seeing that no one was there now, Celesia sprinted for her bedchamber. It was a comfort knowing that her father cared—a sharp contrast to his prevailing eagerness to marry her off.

  Don’t worry, Father. I won’t be long ...

  When Celesia entered her bedchamber, she couldn’t believe the haphazard state of it—her clothes tossed about the room, her vanity knocked over, and her rugs overturned. Even her mattress was slashed. By the look of things, the thief was very thorough, but nothing was missing. Taking the leather satchel from her bed, she wrapped it around her and slipped the dagger inside.

  “Who’s in here?”

  Celesia spun around. Tuke was at the door.

  “There you are! Everyone’s been—”

  She rushed and pressed a hand over his mouth. He nodded, showing that he understood. Celesia obtained her long brown cloak, grabbed Tuke’s wrist and pulled him out of the room. He tried to keep up as more voices traveled down the corridor. Celesia led Tuke to the library, where they ducked behind a wall of books. They waited and caught their breath while the guards poked their heads about and walked on. All the while, Tuke hadn’t resisted—nor taken his eyes off of her.

  “I’m so glad I found you,” he said. “They say you went missing, and now there’s a thief in the castle.”

  She could stare at his eyes for hours. “I know.”

  “That stone,” Tuke said, glancing at her neckline. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that before.”

  Celesia reached for it, and held it up for him to see. “It’s from my mother’s portrait. I found it last night.”

  “Yes, that’s where I saw it—except it’s gone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Somebody tore the necklace from the canvas.”

  Her mother’s portrait had been defaced? Celesia had no reason to doubt him. The fact that he went along with her instead of turning her in had solidified the little trust she had in him. She looked him in the face. Their eyes locked, her brown and his blue. The sound of his urgent breath calmed her, as did his musk and the sight of his tousled hair. Even with this terrible news, it took all of Celesia’s will to keep from drawing herself closer to him. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I’m not sure. The guards summoned us to the hall for an accounting. Everyone saw it.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to Celesia. Something more was at stake than the dagger. She tightened her grip on the gemstone and looked at Tuke again. Maybe the thief wanted the stone? And if so, why? What good was the tiny piece of jewelry to anyone, unless there was something more to it than a decoration? She looked at the stone, and she questioned it with focused intent.

  “I don’t think you’re safe here,” Tuke said.

  His words broke her concentration. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “I just do.”

  Tuke reached for her hand and wrapped her fingers around the stone, to hide it from view. He didn’t care for the jewel, but the shimmer in his eye suggested that he was far more interested in something else. Celesia’s heart jumped at the thought of what that could be.

  “You have a place to hide for a while?” he asked.

  Normally not, until she’d met a dragon. “The forest.”

  Nodding, he gripped her hand. “I’ll help you.”

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  After using the secret passage as a shortcut, Celesia and Tuke carefully made their way across the main hall. Celesia had worn trousers before, but never a pair of Tuke’s. Her legs had more than enough room, and the sleeves of his shirt stretched beyond the length of her arms. With the hood of her cloak up, she was able to hide her long hair. Then Celesia stole a glance of the portraits and nearly gasped. Tuke was right. There was a hole in her lovely mother’s neckline.

  The sight of it brought her to tears.

  Who would do such a thing?

  In the courtyard, they waited for volunteers and servants to move on before Tuke led her to the stables. In spite of all the chaos, luck was on their side. No one had recognized her. Her dark cloak helped her blend in with the shadows. No one tended to the animals, either.

  They’re too busy searching for the thief ...

  Tuke wasted no time gathering two saddles. While she had the choice of several young steeds, the white stallion appealed to her the most. Dálcort had captured the creature for her. In a way, its misery was partially her fault. The way it stared at her softened the panic that had ruled her for the last hour. Like her, perhaps there was a chance for the stallion to regain its spirit.

  The least I can do is set him free ...

  The stallion shied as Celesia neared. “I’m sorry,” she said, slowly reaching for the stallion’s neck. “I didn’t ask for this Prince Dálcort to capture you. If you will let me ride you into the forest, I promise to set you free.”

  “Do you normally talk to horses?” Tuke asked.

  Celesia was too busy raising the stall’s beam to answer him. The horse seemed to nod its head as it walked out. Celesia paused while her narrowing eyes studied the curious expression that was growing on its long face. Had the horse just acknowledged her? “You don’t act like a normal horse, do you?” she asked.

  The stallion blinked before it shook its head.

  “You sure you want to ride that one?” Tuke asked.

  She stroked its nose. “We have an understanding.”

  Smiling, Tuke saddled his horse and made ready to prepare hers. Celesia couldn’t deny that she had feelings for Tuke, but since she was the Princess of Bëdoustram, he would never reveal what he felt about her. Not knowing when she would see him again, Celesia closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

  His skin was softer than she expected, smooth—and moist? She flashed her eyes open. He’d turned when she wasn’t looking, and their lips had locked. They pulled away quickly. Celesia raised a hand to her mouth, where the sensation of his lips stayed. Neither of them spoke.

  Only the nickering of horses broke the deepening silence between them.

  “Tuke, that was—”

  “—an accident?”

  She didn’t want it to be, but she nodded anyway. Tuke brushed his hand by her ear, his fingers gently combing through her brown hair. He was standing so close, and his blue eyes were devoid of caution. Celesia caught her breath as he lunged forward and kissed her again—a little longer. They stepped away from each other when a pair of groundskeepers passed by.

  “I don’t believe in accidents,” he said.

  The stallion nudged Celesia before she could absorb what Tuke had said and done. If she didn’t know better, the horse was impatient. She understood why. They had delayed its freedom. She knew what that felt like, but it was Tuke’s arms—around her—that she wanted to feel.

  If this was love, Celesia couldn’t leave now.

  “We better go,” he said. “We’ll figure this out later.”

  Nodding, Celesia revealed to him a careful smile.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  They led their horses into the night. Celesia couldn’t wait to ride across the drawbridge with Tuke, but she wasn’t sure what to do after they reached the forest. Introducing him to an ogre and a dragon would surely complicate things. They had closed the gate as well, a measure the guards put in place to keep the thief from escaping, no doubt. Celesia reached for her cowl and covered her head before mounting the white stallion. Tuke did the same. Celesia patted the stallion’s neck, coaxing him to walk. Slowly they advanced through the pasture, and past a few stablehands who were now searching about the badminton court. They didn’t stop to question them, or even glance up. Their plan was working, far better than Celesia could’ve hoped for.

  “Any luck?” a guard called from the gatehouse.

  To Celesia’s surprise, the gate was opening.

  A pair of Dálcort’s men were returning from the searc
h. “Not a trace of the Princess anywhere. We found the remains of a horse, though. Not sure if it was hers, but something picked its bones dry.”

  Celesia encouraged her stallion to sneak by as she kept her head down. Tuke stayed close.

  The riders acknowledged them, and came to a stop. “Where’re you going at this hour, Tuke?”

  “We’re joining the search for Princess Celesia,” he replied. “The more eyes out, the better. Let us pass.”

  One of the rider’s stared at them, his brow creased. “Not with the Princess’s new horse!”

  Celesia held her breath. Everyone in earshot was staring at them. She would never escape now.

  “Thief!” cried a stablehand. “The stallion is taken!”

  Tuke slapped Celesia’s horse, sending them both running across the bridge and through the village.

  Dálcort’s men turned around and gave chase, just as the castle bells rang.

  “Stop right there!” one of them yelled.

  “Stay your ground!” cried the other.

  Celesia held fast as she rode through the village square, down the hill and into the edge of the forest.

  Her hope quickly ceased when their pursuers had caught up with them. The wind caused her hood to fly off, her brown hair blending in with the night. Her cloak unraveled and flapped behind her.

  “I’ll distract them,” Tuke said. “Go on ahead.”

  She flashed a startled look at him. “Tuke—!”

  “I’ll find you!” he urged her on. “Go now!”

  He pulled back before Celesia could stop him. He blocked the road, compelling one of the horsemen to stop. Tuke reached out to grab the other, but the man veered around and stayed close to Celesia. She turned around, daring herself not to look back. The sound of Tuke’s voice had mangled with punches. The other horseman came close to her side, staring with dark eyes.