The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  She looked over the edge and backed away. The ship was floating, climbing into the air. This was impossible. Flying ships couldn’t exist—unless some kind of magic was keeping the majestic vessel buoyant. The fog that surrounded the ship ascended with them like a cloud.

  Mavarco placed a cold hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off. “An incredible view, would you not agree, Princess? There is no reason to keep you bound. Remove them.” At his command, a pair of men slid the cords off her wrists. “I have no need to worry about you escaping now. By all means, jump overboard, but I promise it will be the last thing that you will ever do.”

  “Unless I take you with me,” Celesia said.

  Mavarco ordered the men to release her. “Naturally you would say that. Perhaps you remember the apparatus I mentioned to your father that night? You are standing on it. With this vessel, the land of LaVóndia will be compelled to surrender to me. If you think your dragon will stop this ship, I highly doubt he will come with his fire, not with you or your friends on board. ” Mavarco called for Dálcort so he could look at the fake stone thoroughly. “Speaking of the dragon, we will strike him down with our thunder-rods, or my transmutator—”

  A man swinging in the shrouds distracted him.

  “It seems we have a dawdler.” Mavarco encouraged Dálcort to look at the man. “We are not ascending fast enough. Do us a service and lighten our load, Dálcort.”

  The prince grinned as he retrieved his thunder-rod and raised it like a crossbow. A cold chill ran down Celesia’s neck as he aimed the rod at the unsuspecting buffoon. Another deafening crack sounded over the deck, followed by the man releasing his hold on the shroud. Celesia covered her mouth as the man vanished over the side. Dálcort laughed as he blew white smoke from the thunder-rod’s tip. Celesia stood frozen in dread. Mavarco and Dálcort were murderers.

  “A precarious weapon,” Mavarco said. “However, when it is used with adequate skill, it will render the defenses of this world useless, without much pain.”

  “You monster,” Celesia uttered.

  “No, Princess. I do believe your dragon is the real monster.” Mavarco no longer spoke with a tactful tone. “If he is your protector, where is he now? We have not detected him. Admit it. He has deserted you.”

  “No. He would never do that ...”

  “Pray he does not come near us then.” Mavarco then guided her to another peculiar device, covered with levers and wooden knobs. “This is the transmutator. You saw it tested this morning, if you remember those dragons in the badlands. This device will turn anything, living or dead, into an element of my desire. I have not determined how to choose what the thing should turn into just yet, but at least I know it works. We will use it against your dragon if he should fly too close.”

  Celesia remembered the tempest that she had ran away from in the badlands. No one could see the vessel for what it really was. “So this ship was the storm?”

  “Indeed. Trisontia never saw us, coming or going. Is this stone all she had with her?” Mavarco asked Dálcort.

  “We confiscated more. Would you care to see?”

  Mavarco agreed. They piled Celesia’s provisions in front of him and he combed through each item, one by one, pausing only with the dagger. Celesia watched as he commented on the inscription. He didn’t seem to care for it, saying the words were nothing but gibberish.

  He can’t read the writing?

  Dálcort also looked at the dagger. He didn’t seem to understand either. No one else had a problem with the quaternary until now. He examined her earthy-colored cloak and ordered his men to cast it into the furnace. Celesia knew Sarandretta’s gift wouldn’t burn. It would be safe in the iron hearth. But she held her breath as Mavarco seized the acorn pouch. He would find the Dragon’s Heart if he opened it. He unfastened the flap, but there was nothing in his hand when he removed it. He shook the bag and held it upside down.

  Nothing fell out. Not even a piece of lint.

  “Are you sure this is everything?” Mavarco asked.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Dálcort said. “Why ask?”

  “Because this is not the Dragon’s Heart.”

  Celesia felt like her heart would leap from her chest. How could he tell the stone was a counterfeit? Did he know all along? How did the Dragon’s Heart disappear without a trace? She had placed the stone in the pouch before Raulfe had grabbed her. Dálcort reached inside the bag to see for himself. Mavarco smiled as he handed Dálcort the fake stone that had belonged to Lyell.

  Dálcort checked every angle of the stone. “This has to be what you are looking for. Celesia wore this exact gem. Are you sure this is not the Dragon’s Heart?”

  “I would have seen its power,” Mavarco said. “That stone is useless to me, and disappoints me. Would you return this rubbish to the earth, where it belongs?”

  “Yes,” Dálcort answered. “Of course.”

  He walked to the bow with Mavarco.

  Celesia watched them stroll to the edge of the ship, where there was no railing. Then, to her surprise and dismay, Mavarco threw his hand on Dálcort’s back, and thrust the prince overboard. His terrified cry sounded in the air for a few seconds until he faded completely from their ears. Most of the crew went back to their work.

  “Was that necessary?” Raulfe asked.

  “He was too careless,” Mavarco refuted Raulfe for questioning him, “and such incompetence will not be tolerated in this empire. If these are all that came aboard with her, it means she hid the Dragon’s Heart before you captured her. We will have to come back and search for it later. Since we have the Princess, there is no need to risk losing track of her during another landing.”

  Celesia shivered. “How can you be so callous?”

  Mavarco’s smile was frozen on his smug face. “You of all royal, eligible maidens should be overjoyed by the leave of Prince Dálcort. You never favored him. I saw that when he first entered the gate. Since he is no longer with us, fewer hands will be competing for yours.”

  “I’ll die before you have mine—Alkivar.”

  He dismissed her with a dangerous frown. “I find your theatrics tiresome.” He reduced his voice so only she could hear him. “Where is the Dragon’s Heart?”

  She stared back, doing her best to be brave.

  “Perhaps a moment in the brig will enlighten her,” Raulfe suggested.

  “A most proper recommendation, tracker,” Mavarco replied. His focus returned to Celesia. “Perhaps I will offer the Princess a choice. I shall give you one hour to come to your senses. Should you refuse to disclose the Dragon’s Heart at that time, I shall liberate the Dirigible of your ogre and stallion. We should reach Bëdoustram before dawn, without their weight slowing us down.”

  All Celesia had left was her defiance.

  “As you wish,” Mavarco said. “Throw her in with the others and bring me a fresh hourglass. I shall return with the expectation of an answer within the hour.”

  The men guided her to the gaping hole below, where Hilander stood with his legs tied up. Groth still dangled in a mesh net. Since the dagger was tethered to her, she wouldn’t be far from it, but she needed Groth’s acorn pouch to make sure the stone was still safe inside.

  “Before you throw me in, may I have my pouch?”

  Mavarco frowned as he rummaged through the pile of possessions, and held up the leather pouch with the acorn button. “What use have you with an empty bag?”

  “Have you any use for it?”

  Mavarco peered at her suspiciously. “None at all.”

  He threw it at her. Celesia caught it, and the force of it made her step back where there was no flooring. He laughed as she fell into the hatch. The grate closed, and it was locked. Mavarco stared at her as she winced.

  “You have no time left to be humbled, Princess. Be prepared to tell me of the Dragon’s Heart within the hour, or I shall, for once, be a man of my word ...”

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  “Thank the rivers!” Groth said. “Are
you alright?”

  “We thought we lost you!” Hilander whinnied.

  As soon as the crew left Celesia alone, she stood up and tried her best to release Hilander and Groth from their bonds. It would’ve been easier with the dagger, but to no avail. The knots were too large and too tight for her small hands to unravel. When she admitted there was nothing she could do, she slumped her back against the wall and listened to the creaking wooden floor.

  “He killed Dálcort,” she said, unsure of how she felt about this. “I’ve always questioned Mavarco’s motives, but I never suspected that he was the Alchemist. Flint was right about that, and now we know for sure.”

  “Does Alkivar have the stone?” Groth asked.

  “No, thank heavens.” Celesia’s relief in that was enough to ease some of her concern. “I climbed up the slope to look for you, and Lyell was there. He gave me a fake stone and told me to replace it. I don’t know how he knew of the Dragon’s Heart, but he did, and Dálcort bought into it. He left Lyell for dead because of me.”

  “What about Dálcort?” Hilander asked. “I heard a man scream. Was it Alkivar who killed him?”

  Celesia told them everything that had happened to her since their capture. She also spoke of the troll and their riddling challenge, of Flint’s intervention and their argument, that restless night and Taika’s desertion and the dragons in the badlands, until the moment when she found the rest of the Dragon’s Heart. She picked up Groth’s pouch. Nothing had fallen out when Alkivar held it upside down, but something should have. She did place the stone inside there. She was sure of it. As she continued her long story, she reached into the bag and—with astonishment—held the Dragon’s Heart.

  Celesia’s chest filled with wonder. “But how?”

  “I have another secret, Princess,” Groth said smiling, notwithstanding the twisted position he was reclined in. “You know how I store my most important possessions in that particular pouch? My spices, notes, souvenirs and such? Do you feel anything else in there?”

  Celesia felt through it. “Nothing else.”

  “Give it here,” Groth said. “Leave the stone inside.” The ogre reached through one of the meshed holes in the net. As soon as Celesia handed him the pouch, he flipped it upside down. A small pile of objects rained to the floor, revealing many more items than a bag of its size could carry, including his creative writings, their notes from the ruins of LaVóndia, foods and many jars of spices, a small knife, the Call of Alantica, and a gray rock that sparked when it thudded on the floor.

  Celesia couldn’t believe her eyes. Of all the items that fell, the Dragon’s Heart wasn’t among them. “I knew there had to be magic, since Sarandretta gave it to you. How have you kept this to yourself for so long?”

  Groth chuckled. “I don’t always say too much.” His spirit seemed to be in good standing, in spite of the hard obstacle before them. “This is a personal shoulder bag. An object placed inside by somebody can only be retrieved by that same somebody. Have a go at it.”

  Celesia caught the pouch and she reached inside a second time. She found nothing except the Dragon’s Heart to hold onto. “This bag has saved us all. I finally understand why you were so protective of it.”

  “Well, who wants to lose their things?” Groth said.

  “What if someone placed a book inside, and died?”

  Groth swayed in his net. “It would be forever lost to the world. That is unless someone were to use the same hand from the poor fellow’s corpse to fish it out ...”

  “I am going to be sick,” Hilander muttered.

  “Sorry, Hilander,” she said. “Where’s Tamsyn?”

  “She ran off to warn our allies,” the stallion replied, with an added measure of satisfaction. “She was about to rejoin us when we spotted the humans. We warned her to leave and she ran eastward. I hope she is safe.”

  “Is that really the whole stone?” Groth asked.

  Celesia held it out of the bag for a few seconds, and tucked it away again. She couldn’t risk having someone see it from aloft. “It’s all together, or so I think.”

  The ogre wiggled his toes. “Without the dagger, we will not know for sure.”

  “Groth,” Celesia asked. “Odd question but, why is it that I see you wiggle your toes so much?”

  “I always do that, whenever I get excited.”

  “Never mind his toes, what about the quaternary and Flint’s true name?” Hilander asked. “You said this troll mentioned a diaigma, and the dragons called Ereman’s riddle an acrostic. Does this change anything?”

  “Hold on ...” Groth spoke as if he had lit a candle in his mind. “Acrostic ... sounds familiar—hold a toad’s hop, that’s what I was trying to remember at the ruins!”

  “What’s an acrostic?” Celesia asked. “The dragons wouldn’t tell me.”

  “An acrostic is a riddle that has the answer in its own letters. Find the right letters from a sequence of words, combined together, should provide you the answer.”

  Hilander neighed. “Do we have the right words?”

  Celesia pondered. “May I see your notes, Groth?”

  The ogre complied after she handed Groth each item. He dropped them in the pouch. The only objects he wanted on his person was the knife and seashell, stating he would use them to free Hilander and himself when the time was right. Celesia unrolled the remaining parchment and read the words. If an acrostic was a combination of letters from different words, Flint’s true name could be, and likely was, staring her in the face.

  She reviewed everything they had collected, including the names of the Royal Magical Family, the passage that read a name from the Princess may liberate us, and the other, for six to come and death be won, the Seven shall name the one. Were the passages connected? She was the princess, and an element from each of the seven members of the Royal Magical Family compiled Flint’s true name. There didn’t seem to be enough information. The quaternary! If they had any hope of resolving the ancient riddle, perhaps they would find the answer in its final verse.

  Celesia turned Groth’s notes upside down, diagonal, sideways. She then rearranged every single word in her mind. His name had to be among the scribbled letters.

  “Your time is up, Princess,” called the drawling voice of Mavarco. “I must account for what you have brought on board. Bring your little shoulder bag with you.”

  Celesia looked at Groth and Hilander for a sign of what she should do. She rolled up the parchments and slipped them into her boot as the grate opened. The ogre tucked the knife under his arm and sealed his lips. Celesia grabbed the pouch as two pairs of brawny hands yanked her out of the storage hold and on the deck.

  She was ushered to one of the doors next to the stairs that ascended to the stern. Mavarco was waiting for her to situate herself inside the room before asking his men to leave. They locked the door behind them.

  Mavarco’s private quarters was striking to look at, adorned with plated gold and many crystalline windows. Mid-morning sunlight shined on a table, littered with tools, metal wheels with dull teeth around them, and threaded strings of copper and tin. There was another table in the center, topped with fine cuisines. Celesia’s mouth watered for a moment, until she remembered where she was—and with whom she was with.

  “I may have acted too hastily with you,” Mavarco said as he placed the tips of his fingers together. Even the way he walked chilled her. “I have arranged an early lunch for us. You may have a seat, if you like.”

  “And what about you?” Something didn’t feel right. There was only one place set at the table. She wasn’t about to lift her suspicion. “You’re not eating?”

  “I could not think of it,” Mavarco answered, swaying in a casual stroll to his own table. He pulled out a piece of paper and quill, and a metal box. “I must have my mind relieved of any missing details before I join you. However, if you lack an appetite, you may walk into that closet behind you and retrieve one of your dresses. I cannot imagine having you arrive in Bëdoust
ram with how you are, as you are now. Those hands will not do. I need to see them first.” He opened a small flap on the box next to her. “Place your hands inside,” he said.

  She shoved them in, wondering what the box was for, and why she was complying. Mavarco smiled as he pressed a button on top of the box. An intense light blared around her wrists, until she felt a slight tinge on her palms. Celesia yelped as she retrieved her hands and backed away. She then noticed that the small cuts on her hands were gone. She didn’t have a scratch.

  “I am not as vile as you claim me to be, Princess,” Mavarco said with a tremor in his throat. “Please dress in something more suitable for our discussion.”

  Celesia figured he was trying to trick her into doing something she wouldn’t otherwise agree to, but what harm was there in browsing her own clothing? It was safer than sticking her hands in a strange box, even if it had healed her small wounds. This was an opportunity to distance herself from Mavarco and develop a plan of escape, once they reached Bëdoustram. She closed the closet door behind her, surprised by how bright it was inside. Her favorite dresses hung on the racks, taken straight from her bedchamber. Her blue courtyard gown reminded her of Flint’s congenial eyes. She wished to see them now. He had to know how she truly felt.

  A peculiar noise startled her as she slipped the dress on. Mavarco was doing something at his table, involving a noise that she’d never heard before. Without making a sound, she crept to the keyhole and peered through it.

  Mavarco was at his desk, tinkering with the pouch. He placed his hand inside, retrieving nothing. Mavarco paused and placed a small golden box on the table. She had seen it once before, the box Tuke had dropped in front of her, next to the library. Did the apprentice even know what Mavarco was up to, or who he was? If she was able to see him again, she would be sure to ask.

  The man opened the lid and removed a wooden dowel. She wondered what it was for, but she didn’t need to for long. Mavarco licked his lips and placed the rod of wood into his mouth—and swallowed it whole.