The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  “Honestly, Groth! Must you frighten me?”

  “Couldn’t help myself,” Groth said as he rubbed his chest. “I needed a laugh, but I admit I shouldn’t use you for my amusement. Please accept my apologies.”

  Hilander raised his snout and moved to one of the trees to scratch his side. Groth handed the cloak back to Celesia. She placed it on again, and was surprised by the sudden warmth it provided. The cloak fit her well, just as snug as it had before. The chill on her skin vanished in an instant. The cold didn’t seem to bother the stallion or the ogre. Of course, the dragon was impervious to any type of weather. She looked up to search for Flint, wondering if he had left for the night. He was sitting on the edge of their camp, smiling at the shenanigans.

  There was an orchard of late fall apples near their encampment, and the ripe fruit made for a nice change in the random main course that Groth usually provided. Celesia helped him make a delicious apple cobbler for dessert, baking it with a bowl that Groth had carved out of a nearby rock. While such a task would amount to a full day’s work for any normal man, Groth was able to construct the cooking implement in a few minutes.

  They shared stories that night, although Hilander’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. He admitted how he missed his home on the plains. This was the closest he’d been to his herd in almost a year. Celesia suggested that they stop to let Hilander visit his family, but the stallion objected, although he was grateful for the proposal.

  “Word will have reached them by now that I have allowed a human to ride me,” he said. “Even though you are the fabled princess whom we have been waiting for, you are still a human. Although I maintain my pride as they do, I am forever estranged from my herd.”

  “Don’t lose hope,” Celesia said optimistically. “When they know why you’re helping us, they’ll take that into consideration, and make an exception in your case.”

  “I doubt that, but it is plausible,” Hilander said. “A feat of courage may invite me back. As far as I know, I am the only stallion willing to restore the magic.”

  “Bravo to Hilander,” Flint said from the shadows. “Each one of us has come to enjoy this fire together by choice, precisely as Ereman would’ve wanted it.”

  “I didn’t exactly have a choice ...” Celesia said, “but there’s no place I’d rather be than with the three of you. Strange as this is, you’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”

  Groth sniffed as he wiped a sincere tear from his eye. “That’s sweet of you. Certainly you have friends in your castle, or certain young men who’ve caught your eye?”

  “There’s no one in my castle like that, Groth.”

  “What of that boy who helped you flee the castle?” Flint asked, his voice cold as he lowered his head to the ground. “By his voice alone, I could tell he fancies you.”

  Celesia crossed her arms. Why were they pushing this on her? “It doesn’t mean I fancy him back.”

  “I suppose not,” Flint changed the subject. “Once we collect the Dragon’s Heart and solve the quaternary, each of us will be free to live our lives as we may.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Hilander interrupted, “but I could use a good sleep. Being in that cave for so long cramped my legs. Goodnight and sleep well, Princess.”

  Celesia drew closer to the fire. “I agree. Goodnight, Hilander, Groth ... Flint.”

  He turned his back. “Dream something nice.”

  The dragon’s behavior was perplexing. He was acting like a child whose feelings were hurt. She remembered what Sarandretta had said about him being human. His attitude changed whenever she spoke of Lyell and Tuke.

  Was he jealous of them?

  Why would Flint be jealous, unless ...

  If he was human, trapped beneath those scales, what did he think of her? In what way did he think of her?

  Her thoughts around this conjecture caused a warm pulse to flow through her veins. Flint was human. The sixth child of the Royal Magical Family. A prince.

  For six to come and death be one, the Seven shall name the one ... A name from the Princess may liberate us ...

  If those words held true, was she the only chance for Flint to become human? The problem facing her was finding his true name. She had one chance, no mistake, without knowing where to begin. Curling up in her cloak, she watched Flint until sleep touched her eyes.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  It was a beautiful spring day in Bëdoustram.

  Celesia stood on the balcony of her room, staring into the morning sun. It was her birthday, and she saw her father and mother walking in the bailey below. She called to them. They waved in return with happy faces. She was about to turn back to her room when a dry leaf landed on her shoulder. Before she knew it, autumn had come. A storm cloud roamed over the mountainous peaks, black as soot, blotting out the sun’s radiance.

  Darkness had covered the land, followed by screams in the courtyard. Dozens of morbid creatures smote the backs of her people with barbed whips, including the court nobles. A cold hand pressed her shoulder. She turned and looked into the shrouded face of evil. A fire burned in his eyes, as he laughed with a cruel influence.

  “Behold my domain, my beautiful queen!”

  He laughed as lightning struck her heart.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  Celesia sat upright. A leaf fell from her shoulder.

  What a horrible nightmare!

  Who was that malicious man standing next to her? She shivered and laid down again, listening to the quiet still of night. A quarter-moon was suspended in the sky, casting a small light over their camp. The crickets didn’t sing and the owls refused to hoot. The silence disturbed her, and Flint was nowhere in sight again. Typical. She then heard a twig snap at the edge of their camp.

  A cloaked figure stepped toward them.

  The person wasn’t much taller than Celesia, but his shoulders were broad. He looked in her direction, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He continued with light steps for the fire until a snarling sound caused the figure to draw back a few feet. Groth began to snore. Celesia watched the figure remove a dagger from his belt.

  A flash of terror swept into her lungs as the stranger raised his arm, standing inches away from Groth’s neck.

  His blade flashed in the faint moonlight.

  “Wait!” Celesia jumped to her feet.

  The stranger stopped his murderous stroke to look, while she unsheathed her own dagger. The figure ran in her direction, so she stretched out her leg and tripped him. His weapon flew from his hand and wedged itself into the bark of a dead evergreen as he fell hard.

  Celesia knelt into the stranger’s chest, pressing her weight on him while holding the dagger’s edge against his throat. The man’s hood slipped off his head as he stared into her eyes. Both of them scampered from each other with a start. This hooded stranger was Mavarco’s apprentice.

  “Princess?” Tuke stared. “I found you!”

  “Tuke?! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.” He sat up and quickly embraced her. “What’re you doing out here? You know there’s an ogre over there? He’ll gut you alive for breakfast.”

  “He would do no such thing,” Celesia rebuked.

  Tuke pulled away, looking at her in confusion.

  “Move into the trees. We can talk there.”

  They stopped by a log, away from camp.

  He stared at her dagger as she sheathed it.

  “What’s going on? The kingdom has mourned you twice. First by plummeting to your death, and then a mad horse trampling you to pieces. Now you’re out here in the forest, defending ogres, carrying strange weapons? Where have you been the last three fortnights?”

  Celesia wasn’t sure how to pacify Tuke, but she had to do something before they caught Flint’s attention, or awakened the others. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How did you survive? I must know that.”

  “I was caught.”

  “Caught? By what, exactly? Giant eagles?”
>
  Celesia folded her arms, seeing if her authority would keep the apprentice at bay. Tuke complied, although he showed more bravery by defying her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and I can’t tell you anymore. I have business outside Bëdoustram. Tell my father I’m alive, so he may have peace of mind, but I plan to stay. Don’t try to follow me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Me? Hurt?” Tuke seemed at a loss for words. “You don’t think I’ve already suffered, not knowing if you’re alive or dead? It’s you I don’t want anything to happen to.” Tuke stopped for breath. “I had to know for myself if you were alive or not, so I snuck out. Prince Dálcort continues his search for you. No one has seen him in over a fortnight. One night, I overhead Mavarco say to your father that he saw you walk beside a dragon with his telescope—it lets you see into the distance by looking through a tube of glass. Tell me this isn’t true?”

  “Everything you’ve said is true,” Celesia answered, reminding herself to keep her voice down. She recalled Sarandretta’s warning, not to trust anyone but herself and her company. But if Tuke already knew, why keep it a secret? The mage didn’t know Tuke, as she did. “I’ve walked with a dragon, an ogre and a talking stallion for a month and a half, and I intend to travel with them as I have been. It is the dragon who saved my life. Twice.”

  “Please, Celesia. You must come back to the castle with me.” Tuke reached for her hand. “I care too much about you to leave you in such dangerous company.”

  Celesia pulled her hand back, surprised by Tuke’s aggressive insistence. “I can’t. There’s worse company in Bëdoustram right now. Don’t dismay, Tuke. There’s no need to worry. Believe me when I say I’m safer with these creatures. I must do something important before I return, and they’re helping me accomplish that.”

  “But what are you trying to accomplish?”

  “I’m lifting a curse that was put on me.”

  Tuke stared at her with an incredulous eye. “Have these creatures convinced you to go on some incredible journey? What if this dragon has you under a spell? This isn’t some fairytale, Celesia.” He raised a hand to his chin. “That explains it. Your handmaiden Vivian told me how fond you are of such stories. How can you be sure this will have a happy ending? They’re creatures of magic. They’re the reason for all the guarded caravans throughout the land. Your father recently confessed to the kingdom that creatures like ogres and dragons exist. Since then, men have been uniting with Bëdoustram for the first time in a century, from all over the world!”

  Celesia swallowed. His argument was compelling, but these men were news to her. “What do you mean?”

  “Strange men were gathering in Bëdoustram before I left. They have horses, arms and wagons for thousands. It’s as if your father is preparing the kingdom for war.”

  Celesia stepped back. Why would her father do this? Had her disappearance driven him toward recklessness? “That doesn’t make sense. If every realm is gathering to the castle, who would my father go to war against? Is Dálcort’s country coming to invade LaVóndia?”

  “No,” Tuke replied. “His country is concerned about his disappearance, so they’re coming to search for him. Strange things are going on within the castle. I wish you would come back, Celesia. Your return may prevent a terrible thing—more than that.” He stepped closer. “I don’t know how much longer I can be away from you.”

  No sweeter words had ever entered her ears. She considered them for a moment. Celesia’s heart wanted to agree with him, but her thoughts turned back to her camp. The trees swayed without the aid of wind. No creature could make that happen, besides a dragon.

  She grabbed Tuke’s hand, and led him to a bush.

  “You must leave! Hurry, before he sees you.”

  “Not without you. Come with me, please!”

  “I can’t. You have to trust me on this.”

  “Hold on,” he said, pointing at her necklace. “What’s happened to that jewel? It looks bigger now.”

  “There’s no time to explain,” she said. “Forget what you’ve seen, but tell my father everything.” She pushed him onward. “Tell him these creatures won’t hurt me. Tell him I finally know about my mother’s influence. If you tell him this, he will understand. Go now. Run!”

  Tuke gazed hesitantly into her eyes. Her urgency couldn’t stop him from leaning close, and kissing her lips. “Keep out of harm’s way. I will find you again.”

  The apprentice secured his belongings and quickly ran northwest, without looking back. Celesia was frozen in a trance. They had shared an accidental kiss once, but there was nothing accidental about this one. She felt the lingering presence of his lips on her own. She continued to stand for a minute, checking to see if Tuke was out of sight. A hovering presence then shifted above her.

  “Another friend of yours?” Flint purred.

  “Don’t you dare go chasing after him—he wanted to be sure I was safe.”

  “A friend from Bëdoustram, I assume?” he replied, as though he were captivated by the authority in her voice. “Forgive me for interrupting your reunion. Since you were no longer in our camp, I had to make sure you were safe, too. The only person I would harm in your presence is the Alchemist. I sensed no evil or magic in that boy, although I didn’t feel much else in him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I sense an indifference in his soul, like his intention of finding you wasn’t his own. Someone guided him here with magic. There is talk of arms gathering in your home? I wouldn’t be surprised if Alkivar has taken your kingdom, using your father to carry out his deeds.”

  Celesia spun at the dragon with her fists held tight. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said yet. Tuke is an apprentice to Mavarco, the Bëdoustram scholar and scientist. I have no reason to doubt Tuke.”

  Flint raised one of his eyebrows. “This Mavarco is a scientist?” Celesia couldn’t tell why he thought this was interesting. “Do you know why Alkivar called himself the Alchemist? Ancient men once sought the powers of magic by natural and artificial means, mostly to turn ordinary metals into gold or silver. Their practices are unknown, since the ancient kings raided their dungeons and destroyed their machines, creatures of no flesh that move and do as their masters wish. If this Mavarco has won your father by inventions, who is to say he’s not Alkivar? He may have influenced your friend, too.”

  “You can’t know that! Mavarco may be a creep, but he’s no murderer like Alkivar.” She had to say what was on her mind, or she’d find no relief. “Nothing gives you the right to judge them, or me. And you were so cold tonight. So what if Tuke likes me? I have it in mind to march back to Bëdoustram and see what’s going on.”

  Flint closed his eyes and bowed his head. “There’s nothing holding you back, Celesia. I sense the feelings of your heart, and you have reason to trust in them. I would never allow harm to come to you, nor would I force you to continue. The dagger tethered itself to you, not us. You stand by two paths. Both are important, but bear in mind that one of them will solve them both. I’ll leave you to make an impartial decision. If we don’t see you in the morning, be careful—and fare you well.”

  Flint turned and walked back to camp.

  His words cut Celesia like a freshly sharpened knife. Just as the dragon had said, a crossroad was set before her. Celesia thought of her time with the creatures of magic, acknowledging the fact that she’d never known more excitement in her life without them. She also kept in mind Flint’s promise to stay by her side, never to be alone. She thought of his smile, on the face of a human young man, and the sound of his heart. Somehow, this felt more attractive than the kiss Tuke had left her.

  “So long as Tuke tells my father what’s going on—that’s all that matters. I hope they will understand.”

  She made her choice and ran back to camp.

  Tiny snowflakes started to fall around her.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  Rolling hills with tall grasses touched Celesia’s knees a
s the party journeyed through the forgotten plains. A mountain range seemed to stretch forever on the north horizon. Shriveled leaves rested above a thin blanket of snow, over smaller hills at the base of the mount.

  The terrain was broken with small black cliffs that jutted no more than a few feet above ground. There was little vegetation for them to see, thanks to the cold advent of winter. To the west and south was an endless stretch of grassland, with the exception of a village with numerous hibernating beehives along its borders.

  That must be Cloverville, where my mother grew up.

  Groth kicked a mound of slush in front of him. “What a calm storm we had. Too bad it’s not summer. The fireflies could guide us to the palace if it were.”

  “I would stay alert if I were you,” Hilander warned. “Anyone can spot us miles away with this snow.”

  “You’re right,” Flint agreed, his mood unobtrusively better this morning. “I should fly ahead and wait, if that’s agreeable with you all. If another traveler comes, will you share your masking cloak with Groth? A single stallion will be less suspicious to the untrained eye.”

  “I can brave the cold,” Celesia smiled in reply.

  The dragon bowed before launching into the sky. A low-lying mist enveloped him within a few seconds.

  “Not a trace of my herd to be seen,” Hilander said. “No dwarves for that matter, either.”

  “Come off it, Hilander. Your herd is white, is it not?” Groth chuckled. “We may have seen them already, only they blended in with the snow. I’m sure we will run into them eventually. I really hope we reach the ruins soon. I never thought a winter out here could be so bitter.”

  Celesia removed her cloak. “Would you like this?”

  Groth raised his hand. “I can manage for now.”

  “You may not have to for much longer.”

  The stallion focused his attention ahead.