Here, Prince Owen’s father had done the same.
“Thank the wildflowers,” Groth said, panting hard to a stop. Celesia heard the others following him until they came to a stop a few feet behind. “If there is something ailing you Princess, don’t go at it alone. We only want to help you. Please don’t run off like that again.”
“What happened to the quaternary?” Hilander asked.
“Troll blood!” Taika shrieked. “Disgusting!”
Groth eyed the fairy and smiled. “Squeamish?”
“It’s down there, somewhere,” Celesia said with an expressionless tone. “Owen told me his father threw his piece into the mouth of the badlands.” She wiped her blade clean on the damp brown grass and sheathed it. The broken chain of the Dragon’s Heart dangled in her hand. “No need to worry. Flint scared the troll off.”
“What happened to your chain?” Tamsyn asked.
“I ... I don’t know ...” Celesia knew she wasn’t giving a clear answer. She released her hold on the chain and stood still, as the Dragon’s Heart landed on the ground. The realization of what she had said to her friends, to Flint, tore at her spirit. She began to feel dizzy, enough to make her fall to the earth on all fours. She breathed hard and fast with a cold sweat encompassing her.
“What’s wrong with her?” Taika exclaimed.
“Exhausted. Master Flint said this might happen.” Groth looked over his shoulder before he reached out to pick Celesia up, cradling her in his hefty blue arms.
“We’d better stay out of sight until Master Flint finds us. Look for a cave or an alcove down this slope.”
“Don’t forget the Dragon’s Heart?” Taika warned.
Celesia heard them, but she couldn’t reply.
The bright morning sky turned black.
˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙
The princess opened her eyes to the inside of a dim cavern, and Groth was sitting by her side. Hilander and Tamsyn stood behind her, although they seemed rather anxious. She understood why when she noticed a pair of intense yellow eyes staring at her. The creature was hard to see in the dark. She wasn’t sure if the creature was an overgrown snake or a huge groundhog.
“You may light the fire,” said the creature.
There was a noble intonation in his voice.
Groth struck two rocks together, until a sizable fire burned with enough light for them to see. The pair of looming eyes belonged to an eagle, a very large eagle. Its feathers were brown with a soft gray underside. The creature shifted its feathers to look more slender.
“You are safe now, Princess,” said the eagle. “The badlands are a dangerous place for any creature. I fear you and your friends have no reason to be here.”
Celesia raised her head. “Who are you?”
“My name is Gyrfàlon,” the eagle spoke clearly, “and you are resting in the very mouth of the badlands. Many humans who have wished to cross this valley have done so in vain. I would strongly advise you to turn back, for this is an unfriendly realm to those without wings.”
“Will you inform Master Flint of her condition, Lord Gyrfàlon?” Groth asked.
“As she is awake and to her normal self, I will leave you and send word to your master about the Princess’s condition,” Gyrfàlon answered. At no time did the eagle smile, making it difficult to discern if he was pleased or indifferent. “Rest this night and make haste when the morrow comes. Do not allow the Dragon’s Heart to overtake your will. That is my warning.”
The eagle faced a starry light from the opening and unfurled his wings to the night. He ascended into the sky, as Flint would have done, but with less speed.
Celesia looked about her, feeling much better. “Why did you call him a lord, Groth?”
“Gyrfàlon is the lord of the North Eagles,” the ogre explained as he extended a cup of water for her to drink. “He found us while we looked for a place to hide. Once he knew who you were, he gathered help to patrol the skies in case more trolls showed up. Have a drink.”
Celesia took a long swig. “What happened?”
“Much has happened in the last few hours, it would be better to explain it in the morning, with clear minds. No need to feed the fire for the rest of the night.”
“It’s already sundown?” Celesia couldn’t think about going back to sleep. She was much too alert. “How long was I asleep? What do you mean clear minds?”
“Have I said too much?” Groth asked Hilander.
“No, just the right amount. See you in the morning, Princess,” he neighed. “You know as much as we do, concerning what we must do. Sleep, and please, have one of us come with you if you decide to leave.”
She apologized to Groth and Hilander for ignoring their pleas when she should’ve listened. They accepted her penance and fell into an uneasy sleep. She remained upright. If she had been asleep all day, there was no way she could rest now. The glow of the fire was dim.
Something was gone from her. She reached for the Dragon’s Heart. It was missing. The stone was dangling on the opposite wall, as far from her as possible.
Chapter 22
Combing the Badlands
No matter how hard Celesia tried to close her eyes, she couldn’t fall asleep. Far too much had transpired in the last few days. When she recollected everything that had happened, nothing but deeply troubling, fragmented images appeared in her mind. Owen’s death, the ruined kingdom of Trisontia, and the mechanical monster that attacked Tamsyn. Terrible consequences followed them as they found and reunited more of the Dragon’s Heart.
Now she wasn’t trusted to wear it.
Is that why it’s hanging on the wall?
Since there was no way to drift into a pleasant dream, she decided to have a look around without leaving the cavern. Beyond the opening was the slope that she had peered over, when she stood on the plateau’s summit. They were closer to the valley basin now, about halfway down. The earth there was fragile, not solid and smooth like the cavern. A bright, waning moon sat between two ridges on either side of the valley. The air chilled her.
She reached for her cloak and covered her arms.
“They thought you lost your mind,” said the fairy’s tiny voice, unexpected and abrupt. “Nothing you were saying made any sense after you dropped the stone.”
Celesia nodded, curling her lip with a minute smile. “You can’t sleep either?”
“The Dragon’s Heart is in my charge, and since you can’t wear the stone for now, I have to keep an even closer watch, not that I haven’t all along.”
“How long have you feigned sleep, then?”
Taika landed on Celesia’s shoulder. “Since the night that ogre caught me ... the clumsy oaf. My charge is to keep that stone safe, so I sleep when I must.”
The fairy’s efforts humored Celesia. “What about the night you slept on my cloak, and the other nights since? I’m usually awake before you stir.”
“Well, I had to sleep sometime, how else could I lure you and the rest into a sense of security?” Taika made herself comfortable by sitting down, and she draped Celesia’s auburn hair over her tiny shoulders. “I’ve seen and heard much while you and your friends slept. There were nights when you couldn’t rest, like tonight, and the dragon spoke with you in confidence. How insightful those evenings were to listen to—for much of what was said explains what’s been taking place recently.”
Celesia furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“Can you handle a simple truth?” Taika’s reply was straightforward. “It may forever alter your perspective.”
“I’m not in the mood for riddles.” Celesia declined, having no interest in carrying on with the fairy’s twisted amusement. “Why is the Dragon’s Heart hanging on the wall? Why was the stone taken away from me?”
“So you don’t know? You were drowning. We had to distance the stone from you, or your soul would’ve been taken from you, or so they were speculating.”
Celesia placed a heavy hand over her heart. “I know I fainted, and my mood
has been terrible.”
“Death is far better than what would’ve happened to you. The Dragon’s Heart has discovered your weakness. It desires to consume your spirit, as it has many.”
“What are you saying?”
“These last few days, the others were in fear that the Dragon’s Heart was consuming your soul. That’s what they will tell you in the morning, but I know otherwise. The stone yearns for the true magic that’s seeping from your heart. It is the dragon; you love him!”
Celesia jumped to her feet so fast that Taika slipped from her shoulder and fluttered back into the air.
“You say I’m in love with Flint?” she asked. “That’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“And no less true,” Taika said. “Is it?”
“He’s a dragon, Taika. A dragon!”
“See, the stone has already influenced you,” the fairy countered. “Flint is a dragon to the eyes of the world, but he is human within. You know that. Each night as you sleep, he walks upright, practicing to be a man. No other dragon has given caution to the threat of Alkivar’s return, let alone walk like a man. I congratulate you for seeing beyond his scales. You’re not nearly as shallow as I’d thought, but to deny your feelings saddens me.”
“I would say the same if you weren’t obsessed with keeping the Dragon’s Heart under your every waking eye,” Celesia countered and crossed her arms. “Why should I believe you? You’ve been nothing but endless snipe and meaningless quarrel since you joined us.”
Taika frowned in front of her face. “You’re right in saying I’m obsessed with the Dragon’s Heart, for that is why I will never touch it myself. It will recognize me for what I am, and then consume the magic of my soul. You are protected from it, but this can only happen to someone ... special, someone with magical influence—but now you’re carrying the greatest magic of all.”
Celesia glared at the fairy. “And that is?”
“It’s obvious—you’re in love!” Taika landed on her shoulder again. “Since the Days of Shadow, fairies have been without love. When we see it, irrefutable, nothing attracts us more. I volunteered to protect the Dragon’s Heart, not because I desired only to keep it safe. Your bond with the dragon intrigued me. You have feelings for him, and guess what? He loves you in return.”
“Flint … loves me?” Celesia’s heart could have burst right then. What Taika said was exciting, and unnerving. “How could he love me? I’ve been so unkind to him, and the others. I’m more of a monster than he is.”
“Even the ogre knows. We conversed about you one afternoon, while you spoke with the dragon. There is no doubt that you have feelings for each other. I gathered enough knowledge from the ogre that he would have otherwise kept to himself—he really does say too much. Now I know the details of your enchantment and why you haven’t been kind to the dragon ... as of late.”
“Tell me,” Celesia said. “I must know.”
“He is a prince, enchanted, but a prince nonetheless. Your enchantment was to keep you from finding love in a prince, forcing you to have no memory the moment you fell in love. How frustrating it must be for you. By loving him, you may harm him as soon as he becomes human.” Taika jumped up and flew around her head. “This fear suppresses the love you feel in return. The Dragon’s Heart hungers for it, even unto madness.”
“If you’re right, then what am I to do? I don’t want to harm Flint. I only want to help him.”
The fairy shot up higher. “I will leave that to you. Your intention is noble, but I fear the snare you’re in. The Dragon’s Heart is a Stone of Want. Alkivar created a secret monster when he assigned that stone to himself. Even the smallest of unselfish desire will awaken it, and the stone will drain your soul of all compassion if you allow it—and I can’t stay to witness that. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Celesia looked at the fairy, but she was no longer hovering above her. “Where are you? Wait, Taika! I didn’t ask you to leave. Please, come back!”
There was no point in pleading.
The fairy was gone.
˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙
Many hours passed into the night with no change in how the valley bubbled and churned. Celesia tried to rest by the mouth of the cavern, at the expense of her troubled mind. She pressed her knees to her chest as she stared deep into the badlands. She couldn’t bear the thought of having the others discover Taika deserting them. First Flint. Now Taika. The Dragon’s Heart was corrupting her will. One thing was for certain—she had to stop it, and there was only one way to stop it.
I do love Flint, and he is a prince. What now?
And because of that love, the Dragon’s Heart was altering her mood, and straining the influence that was protecting her. Celesia snuck back into the cavern. The only way to stop this was to finish the task before her, and she couldn’t wait for the others. She had to search for the fragment alone. Without disturbing the others, she retrieved her cloak and dagger, and made her way for the blue gemstone on the wall. Groth’s acorn pouch was lying at his feet. Knowing that he stored a few provisions there, she wrapped it around her shoulder.
I thought it would be heavier ...
She looked into the stone as she neared the wall. Part of her reflection glared back, even though there wasn’t enough light in the cavern to make one. She lifted the chain with the tip of her scabbard, and caught the gem in her free hand. Once she had the chain around her neck, she made her way to the opening, looked down the slope and descended into the deep valley.
I hope I’m doing the right thing ...
˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙
If Prince Owen’s father had thrown the stone from the plateau, the last fragment couldn’t be far. With the Dragon’s Heart around her neck, she would find the last piece in no time. Above all else, she had to discover Flint’s true name. She wanted ever so much to release him from his scaly prison, even if it meant having to hurt him the moment he became human. No one had ever showed her such genuine affection, as the dragon had. She couldn’t deny her feelings any longer. He loved her. She knew this, and she loved him in return.
I’m going to make this right ...
After a few slips and a short tumble, she reached the basin and surveyed the landscape for a path to walk. On either side of her was a boiling pool that would’ve been hard to detect without moonlight. Celesia turned and walked nearly half a mile, watching and waiting for the stone to pull from her chest. There was no sign of the fragment, only the pungent smell of rotting eggs. She pressed into the valley as night progressed into the predawn hours of morning. Where was the fragment? She paused to look for the cavern on the slope, and saw nothing but pools and steam. She was so sure of finding the stone that she never thought to retrace her steps.
Now she was lost.
The weight of her foot crunched into the ground before her. She removed her foot from a warm slough, being thankful that it wasn’t a geyser. All she could do was press on in hopes of finding sturdy ground.
“Brilliant,” Celesia chastised herself. Sludge and mud covered her boots. “That fragment should be close by. Owen wouldn’t tell me a false story. Where is it?”
Every pool she gazed at appeared to be bottomless. It was possible that Owen’s father had cast the fragment into one of them, which meant the last fragment of the Dragon’s Heart was forever lost to all. She was about to think about what to do next when the distinct roar of laughter entered her ears. She followed the sound over the nearest ridge, until she found a large pool. She saw Flint there, sitting in boiling water. Her heart leapt as she moved closer. Something didn’t look right about the dragon. This creature was older. His scales were red and thick. It wasn’t Flint. It was another dragon. Two more surfaced, and they splashed hot waves at each other.
“You’re right about this one,” said the first dragon, speaking with a weathered voice. “To think we never tried this hot spring. It’s warmer than the others.”
“Those large enough to contain us are hard to find, Igneus,” said a
nother, although this voice was distinctly feminine. “You should thank Silicus for finding it.”
“Can we enjoy this while it lasts, Moltinarva?” Silicus ruffed. “Your chattering is grating my nerves.”
Moltinarva exposed sharp fangs. “Civilized creatures articulate through, what they call, conversation. Why not us? As a matter of fact, we should improve on it!”
“That is how we stand out from humans and other creatures,” Igneus chuckled. “We accomplish nothing by conversation. We would go hungry because we spent our precious time talking about weather. I would rather appease my appetite over the exchange of words.”
Moltinarva floated on her back. “It would be fun to talk with creatures that know the art of conversation.”
Silicus splashed scalding water at Moltinarva with his tail. “Only if we can eat them afterward. Not that I can swallow another bite after all that cattle we just ate.”
“That’s disappointing,” retorted the older dragon. He raised a scaly arm from the water and pointed at Celesia. “There happens to be a human right behind me.”
Celesia seized her dagger and started to run away, but a wall of fire blocked her escape. The dragons laughed with an unnatural mirth. For the first time since she met Flint, she wished he would swoop out of the sky and wisp her away. She couldn’t see him anywhere.
“Come, young human,” Igneus said without turning to see her. “Share this art of conversation that Moltinarva barks of, and we may consider sparing your life.”
She obeyed Igneus’s request, resenting every step as she came near. The younger dragons glared at her with infernos billowing in their eyes, while Igneus reclined with an air of indifference. He then wagged his finger through the water, until she stood before them.
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