Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  “Approachable body language?” Eamon’s winning smile did nothing to dispel Jocelyn’s gathering gloom.

  “I’ll be voiceless as well as friendless,” she said, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “For the rest of my life, if I do have to marry Prince Ormond. You won’t even be there to speak for me.”

  “No I won’t, and I think that’s why Mother wanted you to go, to be honest,” said Eamon, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  “If only she knew how much I would like to speak for myself if I could,” said Jocelyn dryly. “But yes, there’s no way she was going to let you come.”

  “There’s another reason they wanted me to stay, actually,” said Eamon, and she caught the note of pride underneath his casual words.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Father has invited me to sit in on the council when I get back. He’s increasing my responsibilities. He wants me to help find a solution to this crisis.”

  “That’s wonderful, Eamon,” said Jocelyn, trying to hide the inexplicable sinking in her heart. It was an obvious fact, but somehow she had forgotten that while she was off having experiences that didn’t involve her twin, he would be doing the same. A gulf seemed to be stretching out between them, and she had never felt lonelier.

  “Don’t worry about Valoria, Joss,” said Eamon cheerfully, apparently not sharing her gloomy reflections. “If worst comes to worst, just endure it for the summer and then you’ll be home again, and everything will be back to normal.”

  Jocelyn decided not to comment on how much less appealing her normal was than his.

  “At least there’s Montego to look forward to,” she said instead, brightening a little at the thought of the mountain town, which was her next destination. “I’ve wanted to go there ever since hearing Mother and Father describe their visit when they were young.”

  “I know you have, and I’m glad you get to check out the famous mountain people,” said Eamon. “But I’ll admit I was surprised that Father agreed to it. From what I hear, they’re not exactly staunch supporters of the whole royalty concept, and I would have thought that marching a squadron of royal guards through Montego would create tension that we don’t need right now.”

  “But that’s the best part!” said Jocelyn quickly. “Didn’t you hear? Of course they wouldn’t like the royal guards throwing their weight around, and Father doesn’t want to offend them when he already has his hands full. So the guards will go around by the highway and meet me on the other side of Montego.”

  “What? You get to ditch your babysitters?” demanded Eamon, sounding both impressed and annoyed. “How did you argue that?”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard.”

  Eamon raised an eyebrow, and Jocelyn laughed in spite of herself.

  “What? I did it without cheating!”

  “Joss.”

  Eamon’s tone was unimpressed, and Jocelyn couldn’t help chuckling again.

  “Well, mostly without cheating.”

  Eamon opened his mouth again, but she cut in before he could speak.

  “Don’t tell me off, Eamon. It’s getting more potent and less predictable. Honestly, I’m not sure how to be completely confident I’m not using it, unless I don’t speak at all.” Eamon was frowning thoughtfully, so she hurried on.

  “But truly, Father wasn’t hard to convince. Apparently the same chief is still around from all those years ago, and Father trusts him. I just told Father that I desperately want to visit Montego. You know what he’s been like around me since it was decided that I was going.”

  “Like you’re a lamb off to be slaughtered,” nodded Eamon. “Of course he would want to say yes. But still, he had guards following you around even at Lucy’s house. It’s hard to believe he’s going to let you stay in Montego alone.”

  “Oh, well, you know what ‘alone’ means,” said Jocelyn dismissively. “One of the maids will come with me, and two of the guards in plain clothes.”

  Eamon laughed. “That sounds more like it. Well, you’ve apparently gone to a lot of effort to visit Montego. I hope the reclusive mountain folk are as interesting as you expect.”

  “It’s not just them,” said Jocelyn quickly. “There’s dragon magic in the mountains, you know that. That’s why the mountain people are so unusual. Because they live on the doorstep of the Dragon Realm.”

  “Yes,” said Eamon dryly, “everyone knows that, thanks to Father’s dramatic ascension to the throne. But I can’t see what good you think it will do you. No one’s so much as seen a dragon since Elddreki helped stop the coup right before the freedmen came back. People have been roaming the mountains trying to get into the Dragon Realm for twenty years, and I’ve yet to hear of anyone succeeding.”

  “But we’re not like most people, are we?” said Jocelyn, glancing around to make sure no one was within hearing as she gave her twin a significant look.

  Eamon frowned back at her. “What are you saying, Joss? Please tell me you’re not going to wander off into the mountains looking for dragons.”

  “Of course not,” scoffed Jocelyn. “But half the reason I wanted to go to Montego was to look for answers. I don’t know if you’d call our…situation…magic exactly, but it’s not natural.”

  Eamon shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I know it’s unusual, but it’s just part of who we are, Jocelyn.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” said Jocelyn with a snap in her voice. “You don’t have to spend your life with your mouth clamped shut to avoid ruining everything in your path.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to swallow her frustration the way she so often swallowed her words. “My point is, the mountains are where the dragons are, and I’ve never heard of magic that has any other source than dragons, have you? Think about it, Eamon! If anyone has answers, it’ll be the mountain people.”

  “I don’t know, Joss.” Eamon sounded more uneasy than ever. “You need to be careful. Asking about dragons won’t win you any favor in Montego. Word is the mountain people are so sick of all the mania that they drive any questers off themselves these days, by force if necessary.”

  “Eamon,” said Jocelyn, compelling her brother to look at her. “Are you seriously telling me to be careful what I say? Do you really think I need that warning?”

  He laughed reluctantly. “I suppose not. Just…don’t get yourself into trouble, all right, Joss? I know I give you a hard time—it’s a brother’s primary responsibility after all—but it really would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “I never knew you could be so sentimental, Eamon,” chuckled Jocelyn. She gave him a quick hug. “But thank you. I’ll do my best to stay out of mischief, and with a bit of luck, the mountain people will refrain from expelling me violently from their town.”

  It was a good thing, Jocelyn reflected to herself a few days later, that she had set her expectations so low. Because while the mountain people showed no sign of wanting to forcefully eject her, her welcome to Montego was not exactly warm.

  They reached the mountain town not long before nightfall, and Jocelyn was weary. After traveling south alongside the mountain range, she and her small cohort had said goodbye to the rest of the group when the road turned east and began to wind up into the peaks. They had sent their horses on with the others to cross the border further south, and had continued on foot all day, climbing steadily and drawing their traveling cloaks closer as the air become cool in the higher altitude. Jocelyn was fit and managed the continuous slope without too much difficulty, but the maidservant who had come with them looked utterly miserable.

  Even the two guards looked uneasy as they approached the opening to the town, which as the travelers had been warned, wasn’t visible until they were almost upon it. But Jocelyn suspected that their discomfort was less to do with the physical exertion and more with the reputation that generations of superstition had given to the inhabitants of this mountainous region.

  To her own surprise, Jocelyn didn’t feel nervous at all. She
felt excited. As the landscape had changed from the green grasses of the plains below to the unvarying aspect of hour upon hour of gray rock, she had felt the telltale tingle in her spine for which she had been waiting.

  As a child she had listened, spellbound, to her father’s description of how his royal blood had inexplicably allowed him to feel the magic of the mountains, even before he knew his own ancestry. She had hoped that her share in that bloodline would give her the same ability, and she could feel the elation building inside her as she found that it had.

  The feeling was new and exhilarating, but in another way it was utterly familiar. She had felt it since her earliest memories, in a different form, but one that she somehow recognized as akin to the power that hummed through the very air of these mountains. She had felt it almost every time she opened her mouth to speak.

  Surely the similarity of the sensation was a good sign that she might be able to find here the answers she so desperately wanted.

  As soon as they passed between the stone gateposts marking the entrance to Montego, a silent escort appeared alongside them as they made their way into the central space. The mountain men were just as Jocelyn’s father had described them to her, dark-haired and dressed in varying shades of gray, the style of their clothes unlike any she had seen before.

  They looked wild and dangerous, but at the same time, their movements seemed controlled. It was as if they were all synchronized to a rhythm that might be unfamiliar to outsiders, but that would be perfectly predictable and consistent to everyone within the community.

  Jocelyn felt the maid draw nervously closer to her as they walked toward the large fire burning in the middle of the flat central area. One of Jocelyn’s guards greeted the man closest to him with the information that their group was expected. Jocelyn wondered if the local man could hear the unease behind the guard’s gruff words as clearly as she could. The mountain man spoke not a word in reply, his face as inexpressive as the stone around them.

  Glancing around the village, she could see a number of other people also watching them, their faces neither hostile nor friendly. Strangely, the silence comforted Jocelyn. It didn’t seem to indicate unhappiness, and at least here she could keep her thoughts to herself as much as she chose without standing out.

  Before the guards could get too nervous, one of the villagers slipped away and disappeared into one of the stone houses that were spread all over the level ground. Some of these buildings were built from cut stones, not unlike the stone houses that could be found in many Kyonan towns. But others, like the one the man had entered, were cut into the rock of the mountain itself.

  In a moment, the man reemerged, now following in the wake of a tall confident figure whom Jocelyn could tell at a glance must be the mountain chief, Darius. He was an elderly man, probably in his seventies, but his frame was still straight and strong, and his gray hair flowed thickly around his shoulders. An unpolished wooden circlet rested on his forehead, but it was the unmistakable air of authority that identified him to Jocelyn as the leader of the community.

  She was used to being around powerful people—the court was full of men of genuine influence, as well as those who were simply self-important. But this chief was nothing like any leader she had ever encountered. Not being a fool, she could see that he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. But still, for reasons she couldn’t articulate, she found she liked him instantly.

  Jocelyn stepped forward, navigating around the guards who had instinctively placed themselves in front of her. Holding back a rueful chuckle, she thought of Eamon’s flippant advice about approachable body language as she met the chief’s eye confidently. His eyes lingered on her as he spoke to them all.

  “Welcome, travelers, to Montego. You are expected.”

  “Thank you for graciously receiving us,” she said quietly, then barely refrained from jumping in surprise.

  She had not spoken all day—there had been no need to, and her companions hadn’t questioned the restraint, well-used to her habitual silence. These were the first words she had spoken since entering the mountains, and the feeling of that familiar yet novel power swirled more intensely around her than ever. It was as if her words disappeared into the invisible web that seemed to fill the air here, adding her own signature to the interwoven mass of power that swallowed them up.

  The chief looked at her closely for a moment, but it was difficult to tell whether he had noticed anything. The mountain people, like the royal line, were supposed to be attuned to the magic of the dragons, but perhaps he was so inured to it from living in the mountains that he wouldn’t notice her small contribution.

  But Jocelyn, who knew that she had both mountain and royal blood in her, had never experienced anything like it before, and the feeling was overpowering.

  “I am Darius, the chief of this region,” he said, “and you are welcome here.” He gave her an appraising look. “I met your father and mother many years ago. They and their friend left our town searching for something—and succeeded, I understand, where no others have before or after them. It was an achievement indeed.”

  “If they were present, sir,” said Jocelyn evenly, “I think they would say they cannot claim achievement when those they sought chose to be found.” Remembering Eamon’s warning, she avoided actually using the word dragon, but it was clear that Darius understood her meaning perfectly, and he seemed pleased with the answer.

  “And I would reply that they had spoken well.” He smiled as he met her eye. “And taught their daughter well, in a matter that is much misunderstood.” He nodded, the gesture encompassing all four of the travelers. “Lodgings have been prepared for you—please make yourselves comfortable. Our custom is to eat communally, and we would be pleased for you to join us for the evening meal.” He gestured toward the large fire, and Jocelyn could see that people were already beginning to prepare food.

  The maidservant still looked nervous as she followed Jocelyn to their appointed dwelling, and even the burly guards continued to cast cautious looks around them as they entered a building nearby. Jocelyn suspected that she would be the only one to fulfill Darius’s request that they make themselves comfortable in the mountain town.

  When they joined the rest of the community around the central fire, twilight had fully descended, and the gray-clad figures of the villagers seemed to flit like shadows through the increasing gloom. There was an eeriness to the scene, intensified by the continual hum of power that Jocelyn could feel pulsing through the air. But it was also peaceful. She wished they were staying more than two nights.

  The meal was eaten in near silence, despite the number of people clustered around the fire. The maid clearly wanted to hover near the safety of the guards, but Jocelyn surreptitiously placed herself on a large flat rock a reasonable distance away. Her escorts behaved too formally toward her for comfort, and she wanted to observe the curious mountain people in peace. They seemed wonderfully uninterested in their royal visitor, and Jocelyn found herself relishing the fact that neither her status nor her silence was attracting any attention in this unusual community.

  Most of those who were chatting quietly were young people like herself, the elders apparently content to focus on their food. Just as Jocelyn was finishing her meal, a girl of about her own age approached her, her face open and friendly.

  “I don’t wish to disturb you,” the girl said. “I just wanted to say that you are very welcome. We don’t get many visitors in Montego.” She wrinkled her nose, a squat little feature. “Except for questers, and they don’t count.”

  “Thank you,” said Jocelyn quietly, returning the smile.

  The girl hesitated for a moment, glancing back at a group of other youths who were watching her eagerly. “I know it’s not our way to make a fuss, even over important people, but we,” she gestured toward her young friends, “think it’s great that you wanted to come through Montego instead of going around by the highway. We heard that it was at your own request. We hope you’ll like it here.�
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  “Thank you,” said Jocelyn again, surprised but gratified. She would normally leave it there, but the graceful stillness of the mountain town had her feeling relaxed, and she pushed on recklessly. “I like it here already. It feels like I’ve stepped through a portal into a timeless world. Like nothing has changed here for generations, and nothing will change for generations more.”

  The girl, who had looked enthusiastic at the start of Jocelyn’s uncharacteristic outburst, was undergoing a rapid change in expression. Her friendly smile faltered, replaced by an all-too-familiar look of confusion.

  “It is like that, isn’t it?” she said slowly, her tone suddenly uneasy as she looked around the village. “Maybe we’re too stuck in the past. Maybe it’s time things changed around here.”

  “No! I didn’t mean—” Jocelyn bit her tongue, holding back the words clamoring for release, to clarify, to undo the damage. She knew from long experience that more words would just make it worse.

  The girl didn’t meet her eye, still looking confused. “Well, welcome, anyway,” she said, wandering back to her friends, whose eager faces now looked concerned.

  Jocelyn turned away, hoping desperately that none of them had seen the tears springing to her eyes. She blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep them at bay. Why had she opened her mouth? She knew better. What damage might she do to this wonderful place? They should never have let her come. She should go to the chief right now, and tell him that she would leave first thing in the morning, before she could wreak havoc in the peaceful community.

  She looked around wistfully, her eyes still stinging with the tears she was trying not to shed. She had thought, foolishly, that this place was a haven, where she could be silent and still, and no one would think less of her. But she should have realized that, on the contrary, she was more dangerous here than anywhere. She should have known it the moment she felt the strange power of her words mingling with the unquantifiable essence of the mountains, that indescribable energy that some people called magic.