The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  “Doughty little thing.” Moltinarva licked her teeth. “Go on, tell us who you are and what you’re doing here. It’s foolish for humans to wander through our lands.”

  “I heard voices,” she said, “and I need help.”

  “You just might help our stomachs more ...”

  “Be polite, Silicus,” Igneus said. “Let the boy speak.”

  “I’m not a boy,” Celesia replied. “I’m a girl.”

  “Little girls wear dresses,” said Moltinarva.

  “My eyes have been deceived,” Igneus apologized, as well as a dragon could. “By your dazzling locks and the sparkle in your eye, I see now that you are not simply a girl. Why then have you traveled all this way into the badlands of the north, Princess of Bëdoustram?”

  Silicus and Moltinarva widened their eyes.

  They stared at Celesia with gaping jaws.

  “Who said I was a Princess?” Celesia asked without admitting the truth. There was no gambit at her disposal to escape from the three puckish dragons. “I happened to meet a troll yesterday who mistook me for a maiden. I can see why you’ve made the same mistake.”

  “A troll would eat you outright,” Silicus scoffed. “They aren’t the brightest of creatures, of course. The Alchemist saw that, and used them a hundred years ago. Tell me this, girl. How did you manage to escape from a troll without as much as a bruise to show for it?”

  “I challenged him, and won a game of riddles.”

  “I love riddles!” Moltinarva said. “Tell us one.”

  Celesia reiterated the riddle that the gargoyle had said to her in the ruins of LaVóndia. Silicus laughed as he smacked the water with his fist. Not only did he get the answer right, as quickly as the troll had, but, “That’s a classic of the old wizard, both diaigma and acrostic.”

  Celesia perked her head up. “What’s that?”

  Moltinarva laughed. “You don’t know?”

  “Please tell me. It may solve everything.”

  “I don’t think you came to our land to discuss the anatomy of riddles,” Igneus said with a ruthless growl. “Unlike the troll, there’s no mistaking. I know exactly what you are. Although we isolate ourselves from the humans, we know what goes on within their realm. You are the missing Princess of Bëdoustram, who was last seen traveling with a talking horse, ogre, and dragon.”

  Moltinarva shrieked. “Who of us would dwell with a tender morsel like her?”

  Igneus raised his eyes, implying that he didn’t wish to answer. “Remember my adopted brother, Moltinarva? You favored him, when you were hatchlings.”

  “Flint?” Silicus and Moltinarva replied together, but the lady dragon continued to speak. “Is he near? Why would he travel with her and not speak to me?”

  “He never liked you, sister,” Silicus mumbled. “He’s an unfavorable, if not disgraceful dragon. His behavior was always unsavory even as a hatchling, walking on his hind legs when he thinks no one is watching, always peeking over the ridges in hopes of seeing a human pass by. He would’ve lived a better life as a human, and I’m sure I would’ve liked him better as a snack.”

  “Come now, Silicus,” Igneus fumed. “He would be a civil dragon if not for that witch.”

  “Mage,” Celesia said defensively. “I mean, if you’re referring to Sarandretta.”

  Igneus growled. “You know the mage, then? She is still a witch in our eyes, having filled his impressionable mind with stories that inspired him to leave the herd and fly above the castle of Bëdoustram for a sign, for a human girl to be born. His interest in you, Princess Celesia, undid him. How can we ever thank you for relieving our herd from such a blight to our kind?”

  Moltinarva waded through the water, her green and violet scales reflecting the brink of dawn. “I wouldn’t mind a boiled snack before sunrise. Jump in, girl. The water’s perfect.”

  Celesia held up her hand as she backed away. “I will pass, thanks. But you’re right. I am Celesia. I really don’t know the custom of dragons, even though I’ve known Flint for some time. We’ve been searching for the lost fragments of the Dragon’s Heart together.”

  Moltinarva hissed. “Why would he care about that worthless pebble?”

  “The Alchemist has returned.” Celesia swallowed as she raised the stone from her chest. The others looked at it with renewed interest on their faces. “He may have overthrown my home, but he’s powerless without this stone. I beseech you, release me. There’s one fragment left, and we can’t restore the land’s magic without it.”

  “No chance. Alkivar will conquer LaVóndia with or without the Dragon’s Heart.” Igneus raised one of his claws and studied his immense talons. “It matters not to us what happens to LaVóndia. That’s not our country. Alkivar sought the magical influence of our land in the Days of Shadow, after he killed our masters and made us wild. He proved to be no match against us, so he’ll never threaten our desert. He knows his death awaits him, if he ever trespasses here again.”

  “Enough talk.” Silicus crouched low and smacked his lips. “Let’s have a nibble!”

  Celesia objected by holding her dagger and backing away. The two young dragons prowled out of the water like tigers, both of them eager to pounce. A strong wind suddenly gusted over the ridge without warning. Celesia thought Flint had come to her, but she saw a swirling dark cloud instead—shunning the coming dawn. The crack of thunder announced a heavy rain, and the fire around her sizzled. The three dragons looked up with uncertainty. Moltinarva was about to lay her claws on Celesia when lightning struck the ground near Igneus.

  “Queer storm, not that lightning will harm us.”

  At that moment, another bolt struck Igneus in the center of his chest. The dragon showed no distress, but his movement stiffened. Within seconds, the dragon came to a halt above the pool, frozen like a sculpture.

  The color in his scales faded from a reddish hue to a clear finish. His figure crackled like grinding wine flutes, or melting ice on a frozen lake. The other dragons stared in dismay as Igneus transformed into a statue of crystalline glass. A new bolt struck the ground close to Silicus, causing both dragons to speed into the sky.

  Celesia fastened her dagger and scampered down the ridge, looking for a cave or ravine where she could weather this strange storm. Since when did bolts of lightning turn creatures into glass? The storm moved in such a way that made her question the dark formation at its center. The lightning shattered rocks and caught sagebrush on fire with every fleeting step she took.

  She ran until she reached the basin, trying her best to make good judgment on what crusted path she should take. The lightning stalked her, cratering the ground, splashing hot water from tainted pools on either side of her. A chain reaction made several geysers burst with jets of sweltering water. Celesia stumbled as a geyser erupted, sending a shower of boiling water over her. She grabbed the hem of her cloak and covered herself.

  Muddy water ran off her cloak like shale. She then noticed the hem of her cloak was reddened by her own blood. The ground was so porous and sharp, the flesh of her palms couldn’t withstand it. The cuts weren’t too deep, but she would need to tend to them later. The badlands moved with subtle earthquakes, forcing her to regain her balance with every step—

  —Until the chain tugged at her neck.

  A giant spout of water shot into the air as sunlight peeked over the badlands. A tiny blue stone sparkled in the column of water, and darted for Celesia’s chest. The Dragon’s Heart reached for it, and then assembled with its missing counterpart. Once the two collided, they molded into a single, finished stone. Signs of precise craftsmanship appeared around the edges. The stone resembled a beautiful sapphire about the size of a small child’s fist. The ground stopped shaking. The storm subsided, and Celesia had become absentminded to its strange power. All she could think of was the stone.

  The Dragon’s Heart was whole.

  Chapter 23

  Boarding the Dirigible

  Celesia bore a radiant smile on her face while s
he raced across the barren land, and she couldn’t keep her hands off the Dragon’s Heart as she made her way back to the slope. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Groth and Hilander’s faces. They were in for a surprise.

  She retraced her steps and scaled up the slope with few mishaps—much easier to climb up than it was to scale down. Once she reached the cavern, she paused to catch her breath and hoisted herself into the opening.

  “I’m back!” she called into the hole.

  Her voice bounced back as an echo.

  “Wake up! I found the last fragment!”

  No one responded. When she entered the cavern and surveyed the pit where they had slept, she found no one inside. The ogre and the talking horses were gone, along with their possessions. Ashes from their fire smeared the floor. Everyone had left in a hurry. They had to be looking for her. She returned to the entrance of the cavern and scanned the basin below.

  “Groth? Hilander? I have the Dragon’s Heart!”

  Still no answer.

  Celesia feared this would happen, but she couldn’t stand there and wait for them. She continued up the slope for the plateau. When she reached the top, Celesia searched for a rock or root to step on—then someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her the rest of the way up. Startled by this human hand, she drew the dagger and raised it, ready to strike, but she stayed her hand and stumbled when she saw the handsome stablehand.

  “Lyell! What are you doing here?”

  He pressed an urgent finger on his lips.

  “How did you find me?” she whispered.

  He handed her a wrapped cloth. “Hide the stone!”

  “Wait—you know about the stone?”

  “Yes, and we’re not alone. I overheard what that stone is. I’ll be cursed if I let him take it from you. Put this phony one on, and hide the real stone. Hurry!”

  Celesia unraveled the cloth and found a blue stone with soft tones attached to a chain, similar to what she had. Not identical, but it was close enough. Lyell looked over his shoulder, and encouraged her to make the change. Could he be trusted? Was he the real Lyell, or an imposter? She did eat a magic bean that transformed her to look like him, after all—so who was to say that Alkivar wasn’t capable of such equal deceitfulness?

  “What proof do you have that you’re Lyell?”

  “Proof? The Dirigible is close, and you want proof?”

  Dirigi-what? She wasn’t familiar with that word, but establishing trust in him was more important to her right now. “If you are Lyell, you can answer me this: what gift did Dálcort have you deliver to my room?”

  “A smelly bear rug, of course,” he answered. “Listen, they took Master Mayhew for hiding me. If they find us here, they’ll do so much worse to us both.”

  “They took Mayhew, for hiding you?”

  He nodded. “When Prince Dálcort came back from Caperholm, he accused me of drugging him—but how? I’ve never gone farther south than the forest searching for you. Mayhew helped me escape, but the guards discovered what he did and threw him in prison. He’s gone, Princess. He passed away a few weeks ago.”

  Celesia had no words to speak with. If she hadn’t assumed Lyell’s identity, Mayhew would still be alive. It was her fault that he was gone. A sharp guilt stilled her breath for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Lyell ...”

  “It’s okay, Princess,” he answered softly. “I wouldn’t be here now to help you if it wasn’t for him. Hurry and put that jewel on, before they find us.”

  Celesia tried to bury her feelings as she lowered the chain around her neck, letting the fake stone rest under her shirt. She never had the chance to say goodbye to the horse master, so she silently thanked him for saving Lyell as she placed the real stone into the acorn pouch, hoping it would be safe there. “What’s a dirigible?”

  “Something we should avoid.” Lyell swallowed. “I’m so glad I found you. They’ve been looking all over for you, and I think they’ve captured your friends.”

  Celesia glared at him. “Captured?!”

  “Yes, and if they find me with you, they’ll—”

  CRACK!

  Celesia flinched to the sharp sound, and then looked for the source of it. A boom rolled in the air for several seconds. She was about to ask what that was when Lyell looked at her. He swayed and fell to the ground.

  “Lyell?” His face turned white. “What’s wrong?”

  Celesia knelt beside him, and was about to roll him onto his back when she found a hole in his coat. A ring of blood appeared at the center of his back, the strange wound close to his heart. Celesia felt his breath with her hand. He was alive. She didn’t know for how long.

  “Make no attempt to move!”

  With her back turned, she fastened the acorn button on Groth’s pouch, just as a hand grabbed her shoulder and hoisted her up. The man was Raulfe, her father’s favorite tracker. He knocked the dagger from her hand.

  “Ready like a viper with that knife?” Raulfe asked with a gruff voice. Several others marched in. A circle of men had formed a tight ring around them. “I see you’ve found the stablehand. What did he say?”

  “Unhand her,” called another, holding a staff.

  “Lord Dálcort,” Raulfe acknowledged. “That was a wicked shot you have performed. Remarkable aim. How much have you practiced with that thunder-rod?

  “Since yesterday,” Dálcort answered with a broad smile. “Shame, I only wounded him mortally. Not as clean as I would like, but no matter. We punished the traitor and found exactly what we were looking for.”

  “No!” Celesia cried. “How could you?!”

  “I would be careful from now on, Celesia,” Dálcort replied. “Your friends are not here to protect you.”

  “Let them go. It’s me you’re looking for.”

  “Not just you. Where is the Dragon’s Heart?”

  Celesia tightened her fists. She wanted to strike him in the eye. “You’ll learn nothing from me. Why do you want the Dragon’s Heart? Am I not your prize?”

  “You still are, my bride to be.” Dálcort withdrew his sword and lowered the tip on Lyell’s neck. “Give me the stone, or I will dispatch your indecorous friend.”

  She recognized the serious look in the prince’s eyes. He wasn’t bluffing. She decided, if it would spare Lyell, she would hand over the fake stone. Most of the men raised their swords as she reached under her shirt. She then removed the gem from around her neck and threw it at his feet. He moved the point of his sword to the chain and raised the stone up from the ground. His eyes inspected the stone, and coiled a smile. The men raised their voices, shouting with jubilant resolve.

  “Our search is over! Bring the girl and her things to the Dirigible. Take her cloak as well. You can hardly see her with that hood on. Our master will be pleased.”

  Dálcort nodded at Celesia, and beckoned his men to bind her. She resisted as they removed her cloak.

  “What about Lyell? You’re leaving him?”

  “He’ll weigh us down,” Raulfe replied.

  Devastated by her capture, Celesia had no choice but to have them lead her into a southern fog. Lyell had sacrificed himself in order to keep the Dragon’s Heart from touching the wrong hands, like Mayhew had done to save Lyell from an untimely demise. Now they were both dead—because of her. Doubt filled her heart.

  The men took her belongings, her flask, and Groth’s pouch. After a few more steps, the fog cleared enough for sunlight to expose an enormous vessel resting on the ground. A ship, like those in Caperholm. Above the deck, in absence of masts and sails, was a great leathery balloon. Many ropes and a few wide shrouds tied the mass down. Streams of moisture poured into the thick fog from the vessel. No. The ship was creating the fog.

  Celesia had never seen anything like it—a ship miles away from the nearest ocean. A ramp lowered as they neared the starboard bow. Its crew moved busily about as they boarded the ship, and she realized why when she heard Hilander’s frantic screams. More cords bound the stallion than she could count. He r
esisted the men who tried to keep him from jumping over the railings.

  The ogre was hanging in a net, dangling from half-mast. Below him was a hatch with an iron grate. Hearty cheers sounded from the crew before another loud crack filled the air from astern. Sir Conand held one of the objects that Raulfe had called a thunder-rod. A thin white smoke wisped from the end of the iron staff.

  Standing by him in lavish robes was Mavarco.

  “Now that I have your attention,” he said, pressing his fingertips together in a calculatingly manner. “Have you found the stowaway, Lord Dálcort?”

  The prince nodded and smiled. “That and more. We have found her.” He pointed triumphantly at Celesia.

  The man smiled, thinly and discrete. “I assume you have found the stone in her possession?”

  Dálcort reached into his vest, and he removed the artificial Dragon’s Heart. He held it in the air for all the men to see before tossing it to Mavarco. The gloomy figure caught the stone with one hand, without moving the rest of his body. His eyes looked over the stone for a second until he revealed the smallest grin imaginable.

  He placed the chain around his neck as he descended the stairs. Those on deck parted from Mavarco’s path as he walked forward, his dark eyes staring at Celesia.

  “We are most fortunate to find you, Your Highness.” Mavarco presented a bow. “The kingdom has worried for you and feared your loss, but I am sure that they will appreciate your safe return, to the relief of your father.”

  “What have you done to him?” Celesia growled.

  Mavarco leaned closer. “Nothing dreadful, I assure you. You will see him soon, if you cooperate.”

  “We’ll be rescued. You didn’t catch us all.”

  “Nor will I need to, and I doubt your dragon will attack us while we are in the air. Sir Conand!” Mavarco called to the stern. “It’s high time we set off. These neophytes won’t think of escaping after that.”

  Several whistles sounded on deck, followed by men casting small boulders off the side of the ship. Celesia wondered what they were doing until the vessel groaned and shifted. She caught her balance as the men dragged Hilander down into the hatch. They proceeded to lower Groth in after him. Mavarco then ordered Celesia to the starboard bow, once the creatures were out of sight.