Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  She saw nobody she knew, which was good. None would need to tell lies for her, or die if found at the hands of the two strangers. The beating of her heart pounded in her chest, and she set a pace to match. The girl was a full day ahead, but would likely walk slow while searching for food and enjoying her first venture into the world. She was in no hurry and would make camp early. Robin intended to travel deep into the night and wake early. By midday tomorrow, she hoped to overtake Camilla.

  Hard packed clay held a thin coating of dry sand and dirt on the road. Robin noted where Camilla’s footprints came from a trail leading up Copper Mountain and pulled to a halt. As expected, they were spaced closely, as if she walked with all the time in the world. The imprint of the end of the staff showed she used it for support, as a crutch.

  Another track in the dirt drew her attention. A footprint that did not belong to Camilla paced her. Not leading, and not following. It appeared to walk beside Camilla. They were traveling together. What is that girl up to, now?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Camilla woke terrified, again. Her sharp intake of breath woke Brix. They exchanged looks in the dim light as if wondering who the other was, and why they were sleeping near each other. It was the first time they had made camp together.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding alarmed.

  “I dreamed of the red dragon and those soldiers, again. It scared me.”

  “I woke a dozen times, too. I can still hear that dragon screeching and the horses screaming when it attacked.”

  Camilla stood. She glanced around in the gloom. There was nothing to tell her where they came from or the right way to walk.

  As if understanding the problem without speaking, Brix pointed. “The road is that way.”

  With a nod of agreement, she rolled her blanket and gathered her few belongings. Brix followed suit, and as she started walking, he came crashing through the brush behind. Her pace was slow, and she used her staff to help clear the brambles and stickers away until an animal track crossed in front of her. She turned to her left, and followed it, moving twice as fast. Daylight came, and she pushed faster.

  Brix said, “We need to find more food. I’m about out.”

  “You ate all you brought with you?”

  “No, it spilled when we ran away from the dragon. I was in that much of a hurry. When it spilled, I just left it.”

  Camilla nodded. “I have food, and we’ll share it, but look for more, too. I could use some meat cooked over a fire.”

  “Or bread. I love bread.”

  “If you find bread out here in the forest I’m really going to be impressed,” she snorted.

  “I was just telling you what I like.”

  She bit her lip. They walked in silence until he spotted a cherry tree with some late season ripe fruit. They stuffed themselves, put more in their rolled blankets, and continued on. Brix took the lead and said over his shoulder, “Do you think it’s safe to use the road?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Well, I think we can decide when we reach it, but if we spot anyone we dive into the brush and hide.”

  Camilla shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. It didn’t sound like a good plan, but she didn’t have one that sounded better. She said, “Others on the road might do the same if they spot us from a distance. Then all of us will just lay still in the bushes and grow old.”

  Brix thumped his staff on the ground, swung the bottom end up and grabbed it with both hands, parallel to the ground. On his next step, he snapped the left end forward and withdrew it just as fast. Then he snapped the right. Each movement in time with a step. Another step and he let go with his left hand and let it strike the ground with another solid thump. He repeated the movements. The third time, Camilla duplicated each of his moves, although clumsily. The next time she almost did it in step with him.

  “Are you copying me?” he asked, using his staff only for walking, again.

  She laughed, “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “I’m not laughing. I’m still thinking about that dragon and the soldiers. And those boys back at Nettleton. There seems to be a lot of fighting.”

  “Want to practice running?”

  “I don’t think so. Wait until we reach the road.”

  “Can you set our pace with those movements of your staff again?”

  Brix shook his head. “I forgot you were back there. I was just practicing taking a few jabs at the dragon. I hate them.” Despite that, he set the end of the staff on the ground in front of this right foot and as he took the next step he kicked it with the toe of his boot. The bottom shot ahead. He let it fall to the ground and kicked it again.

  “Your toe will get sore.”

  “I’m amazed what you can do with just a stick.”

  “Staff.”

  “Okay, staff. In two days we’ve learned how to handle these things like weapons. It’s so simple for a weapon, but I’d hate to have someone use one on me.”

  “Robin, the washerwoman said a man using a staff, one who knows how to fight with one, can defeat a soldier with a sword.”

  Brix snorted. “You believe that?”

  Camilla used the swing of the staff on her next step to raise it higher. She swung it sideways and grabbed it with two hands near the middle. Then she lunged to the left. Her next step lunged to the right. Robin had slid her hands to one end and used the staff to hit a tree. With that swing, she would be twice as far from an opponent as with a sword. The wielder of the sword couldn’t get close enough to cut her. “You know what, Brix? I think I do believe her.”

  They walked out of the underbrush and onto the road.

  They looked in both directions first, then tentatively stepped onto the road and examined the tracks.

  “Arum will be waiting,” Brix said.

  “Not for me, but let’s go. Keep a sharp watch ahead.”

  “And behind. We don’t need someone sneaking up on us.” Brix matched her stride.

  “What are you doing?”

  He swung his staff to strike the ground at the same time as hers. Then he increased the swing and waited for her to match him. In time, they jabbed the ends at imaginary fighters ahead of them, together. They sprinted again and again, between walking. Nobody shared the road until near midday.

  Brix hissed, as he dove to the side of the road. “I saw movement.”

  Camilla landed beside him. They crawled into the brush and stayed still. In time, a man riding a donkey rounded a bend and rode right at them. He looked half asleep, his eyes never moving under a floppy hat. Rings and bracelets sparkled. A pair of saddlebags sat behind him, and tied on top was what looked to be a canvas tent and rolled blankets.

  They let him continue before walking on the road again. Camilla asked, “Who was he?”

  “A gypsy. They’re constantly on the move.”

  “Going where?”

  Brix laughed softly. “Even they don’t know. It’s said they have itchy feet. Can’t stay in one place too long.”

  “He might have come from beyond the mountain pass. He might know things.”

  “He’d also sell information about us to anybody willing to pay. That’s the way of them.”

  Camilla looked at Brix as if seeing him for the first time. “Who would pay to know where you are?”

  “Nobody cares about me. Can you say the same about yourself?”

  “What? Me? Why would anyone pay to know about me?”

  “Those boys back at Nettleton offered me money to give them information about you.”

  Camilla shrugged. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

  “What did you do to those boys to get them so mad at you?” Brix asked.

  “That is a good question. I swear I did nothing. One day they saw me and started chasing me. I ran and got away, and that seemed to anger them. A few days later they chased me again. Then they started looking for me. They jumped from behind a storage shed the first time they caught me.”

 
“What’d they do?”

  “They shouted and threatened. One hit my shoulder, and another pushed me into the dirt. Then they ran off laughing and teasing me.”

  Brix said, “That sounds like what happened to two of my older brothers. At first, it was just little shoves and punches. When my brothers fought back, it changed into something else. The rich Academy boys turned mean and started chasing them, too. It was like my brothers were the fox, and they were hounds.”

  “What did your brothers do about it?”

  “One fought back a dozen times. He lost most of the fights, but when some of the boys left for the army, it stopped. My other brother went to the Goodman and complained. The Goodman took the side of the rich boys and chided my brother for fighting and warned him he would pay fines in the future.”

  Camilla swung her staff high and let fall, the end striking the ground hard enough to bounce a little. She repeated the move and said, “The Goodman didn’t believe your brother?”

  “I think he did. So did my father. There have been this sort of thing happening for years, in fact, I think my father was once chased by a pack of them when he was young.” Brix copied the way she raised her staff and let his fall at the same time.

  “The Goodman is there to settle disputes and make sure all people are treated fairly. At least, that’s what I thought,” Camilla said.

  “That is what we learn, but it’s only half true. If you and I have a dispute, I win. If one of the second sons at the Academy and I have a dispute, he wins. The Goodman settles disputes among equals fairly; from what I see. But other times it is all about gold.”

  Camilla stopped walking.

  Brix continued a few steps and turned to look at her.

  She said, “People with gold or birthright win all disputes?”

  Brix shrugged.

  “Always?”

  Brix nodded.

  They walked on in silence because he’d spoken out of turn, and she because of considering new information. When Camilla sprinted ahead, he chased after. When she walked again, he silently fell into step beside her.

  At a bend in the road, a solitary tree stood, barren of leaves and most of the bark long gone. The tree stood at the edge of the road, weathered gray and without smaller branches. Camilla slowed.

  “What is it,” Brix asked, hand on the knife at his waist.

  “That ugly tree is a boy from the soldier school.” She pointed at it. She kicked the bottom of her staff so it raised waist high and jabbed it into the trunk with so much force it jarred her. She pulled it back and grasped the middle of her staff in what felt like a defensive position. Then she swung one end and hit the side of the tree. Then the other side. Then the first again. She pounded the tree until the staff fell from her limp fingers. Then she fell to her knees and cried.

  Brix moved to her side. He lifted his staff and swung at the tree, his face set in a grimace. He was slower than Camilla but determined, and each blow resounded with a solid sound.

  “You don’t have to do that for me,” she said.

  “For me,” he panted, pausing before drawing a few deep breaths and beginning again.

  Camilla stepped up to the tree and struck it with several more well-defined blows. She concentrated on pulling the staff back quickly and keeping her feet positioned to provide the maximum power. She turned to Brix and said, “Ready to run again?”

  “You really want to do it all, don’t you?”

  Her new smile slipped. “The next time those boys come for me will be the last. For them or me, but I intend to hurt them so bad they never come at me again.”

  Brix kept up with her sprint, and she ran farther than before. They walked and ran again. Near midday Brix spotted a pear and an apple tree growing next to a tangle of wood and vines that had once been a cabin. When he turned to tell Camilla, her attention was focused ahead. “What?”

  “I saw movement up there.”

  “Men?”

  “I think it was the soldiers.”

  Brix glanced around, then back to where she first watched. “We can try to slip into the trees and go around them or wait here and hope they pass us by. There are apples and pears in those trees at the side of the road.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Edward knew the Slave Master and Weapons Master would soon figure out they were chasing the wind because of the misleading directions the villagers provided. Served them right for ordering the villagers around and acting superior. He dressed and went to the railing that looked over the common room. A few men ate or sipped ale. One lifted his mug in friendly salute. Edward responded with a curt nod.

  Finding the innkeeper, he asked for quill and paper.

  Skipping breakfast, he went down the stairs, returned a few more nods from people half-remembered from the drunken night before, and walked to the stable. “My horse.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man reached into his pocket and held out a copper coin.

  “What’s that?” Edward demanded.

  “Sir, if you’re leaving so soon I cannot accept a full copper.”

  “Keep it. I’ll be back, and you can owe me.”

  The coin disappeared. The stableman trotted inside the barn and returned with Edward’s horse, saddled and looking brushed and well cared for. He held the stirrup for Edward to mount. Riding towards his camped procession outside of town, Edward discovered an odd sensation. The villagers treated him well. They seemed to like him for himself. None tried to take advantage—and none laughed at him behind his back.

  His experience had always been with servants who laughed when they believed he looked the other way or royalty who did worse when they laughed as he looked at them. He was treated with the respect due to his birth, and theirs. The King’s sons didn’t like him, while the sons of lesser nobles treated him with deference.

  He had more than one task to accomplish this morning. The caravan leader and guide spotted him and mounted his horse. Edward pulled to a halt and waited outside the camp.

  As he neared, the guide called, “Sir, it is good to have you safely back. All is packed and ready for your triumphant entrance into Nettleton.”

  Edward silently waited.

  When the guide pulled even with him, Edward spoke softly to add emphasis. “My mission in Nettleton will take more time. It is my mission, directed by the sheriff and approved by the King. I have no more need of you nor the rest of those,” he waved an arm in the direction of the campsite.

  “Sir, we cannot leave you here. Tomas and the sheriff will have my head.”

  “No, they will not. You are to carry these letters from me.” Edward handed him several sheets of folded paper, each with a name clearly printed on the outside. “The one to Tomas says I will take all responsibility for sending you back early. It also says that the sheriff and I will have another private meeting to discuss this fiasco of a trip and the costs involved. The one to the Earl asks him to delay paying for this trip until I return. The third is for the sheriff’s eyes alone. It says that I am in competition with the Slave Master and Weapons Master to locate the boy we are searching for.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Edward drew himself up and inhaled deeply before speaking. “Then understand this. If I should arrive back at the palace and find that any but the sheriff has read his letter, I will have you hanged by the gate until your corpse rots and falls apart. If I find either of the other two was not delivered intact, without other eyes peering at them, I will have you drawn and quartered, and I will personally issue the order for the horses that will tear you apart.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have told you the gist of each letter to save you the bother of trying to find someone to read them so you can sell the information. Only you and I know what we have discussed this morn. Only you have the letters. They are your key to safety, and I’m sure there will be a small stack of silver for your troubles. However, if my instructions are not followed, I will use that same silver to post rewards for you
r head all over the seven kingdoms.”

  The guide looked ill. He held the letters by his fingertips as if they were generating heat. “Sir, I take orders from Tomas.”

  Edward smiled, using much the same smile as the sheriff at the first-day meetings when assigning a distasteful task to an underling. “You have my instructions. Hung, drawn and quartered, or rewarded, it makes little difference to me. You will not be my only messenger delivering the same messages, and that fact should give you pause.”

  Edward broke eye contact and turned his horse. When the horse faced the village, he put his heels to it and allowed the horse to set its pace. The horse wanted to run. So be it. His hair flew out behind, and he broke into a laugh.

  The stableman greeted him, reaching for the bridle and talking softly to the horse.

  “Good man, I am traveling further, today. Will you be so kind as to quickly gather whatever I need for a trip of several days?”

  “Sir, I’ll have it ready in two shakes.”

  Feeling good, Edward said, “Make that three or four shakes, instead. I’m going to eat a hearty breakfast before leaving. Who should I see about clothing and whatever else I may need?”

  “I’d ask the innkeeper. He can make up a store of food good for traveling, and I’ll be sure he has some clothes travelers left at the inn that’ll fit. Maybe a groundsheet and a blanket, too.”

  Once inside the inn, he asked for the innkeeper and a mug of milk. It would be a while before he drank more ale. The innkeeper listened to his needs and hurried off to gather everything. The young girl brought him heavy dark bread and preserves, along with a slab of butter. She also brought sliced beef and two types of local cheese, both of which tasted better than any at the palace.

  He smiled at the lie he’d told the guide about other messengers. But it was no lie that if the guide did not do his bidding exactly as Edward wanted, he would find himself in deep trouble. He tore off another chunk of bread and slathered butter thickly, edge to edge.

  “A good morning to you.” A villager he couldn’t remember a name for, called.