Burn Me Deadly elm-2

by Alex Bledsoe

  Her eyes opened. I wanted to cry. Her lips were dry and cracked, and the corners of her lips were flayed where the gag had rubbed them raw. “Can we have a better plan next time?” she croaked.

  “Promise,” I said, and kissed her all over her face. I tasted tears, not sure if they were hers or mine.

  “I feel terrible,” she said when I let her speak again.

  I spotted my jacket on the ground where I’d thrown it earlier. I retrieved it and wrapped it around her. “We’ll get you to the moon priestesses; they’ll fix you up. Is anything broken?”

  She slowly, laboriously shook her head. “I don’t think I can walk, though.”

  “That’s okay; I’ll carry you.”

  She managed a small smile. “All the way back to town?”

  I felt like I could at that moment. “If I have to.”

  She reached one hand up to my face, moving slowly because of her injuries. “Not yet. I have to know, Eddie.”

  “Know what?”

  Something grew young and sad and hopeful in her eyes. “Were there really dragon eggs down there?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re not just telling me that because you think I’m about to die, are you?”

  “No. Because you’re not about to die. There were eggs down there. One hatched.”

  I’d never seen a look of such sad eloquence. “What?”

  “It hatched. There was a dragon down there. I had to kill it.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “A real dragon?” she said in a small voice.

  I nodded.

  “And it’s dead?”

  “I had to, sweetie,” and felt myself unaccountably wanting to cry, too. “It would’ve killed me, and maybe you, too.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Can I see it?”

  The second-to-last thing I wanted to do was climb back down in that hole and drag the dragon carcass out. The very last thing I wanted to do was cause Liz any more pain or distress. So I did climb down in the hole, tossed the surprisingly light headless dragon over my shoulder and was about to climb out again when a thin voice, barely audible, said, “Don’t leave me.”

  At least I think that’s what it said. Candora was moving, his arms-if you could still call them that-reaching imploringly for me. His face was completely gone, with only a gaping orifice through which his distorted voice emanated.

  I didn’t say anything. He couldn’t see me, or probably even hear me. At best he felt my movements through the ground; maybe he just hoped someone was still there.

  “Don’t leave me,” he repeated.

  Burns from dragon flames never heal.

  I remembered Laura Lesperitt, and Nicky. I remembered Liz hanging in the shack.

  I turned away and climbed out of the hole.

  The sun had now officially risen, blasting us with its golden light. The morning wind stirred, and crows announced their interest in the cooked meat down in the hole. Liz sat up now, clutching the jacket around her. She coughed and trembled, but when she saw what I carried a look of such heartbreak filled her face that I could say nothing. I gently stretched the headless carcass out before her; in death it appeared far more delicate and fragile, and in the sun its black scales shone with the same rainbow pattern as the eggs.

  I stood over it. Liz just stared with a look I could not identify.

  “There’s another egg in the cave,” I said quietly. “It’s still in one piece, and I think it’s about to hatch. I need to go smash it before it does.”

  She didn’t look up, but reached one hand out to gently touch the creature’s shiny skin.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked gently.

  She nodded without looking. “This is no time for the fire dreams are made of,” she said, and in those words I heard the little girl who’d once believed in the divinity of dragons. “No time for gods you can touch.”

  I went back down in the hole, retrieved Candora’s sword and used it to smash the last remaining dragon’s egg. The smell was awful, and the mostly formed creature that spewed forth writhed for a few agonizing moments before I mercifully cut it in half. Then I drove his own sword through Candora’s heart, an act of mercy that most of me argued against. But I was too weary to be a total bastard.

  I speared the severed dragon’s head on my knife and brought it up with me. I placed it beside the rest of the corpse. The eyes were still open, still black, and the teeth gleamed white. Liz sat just as I’d left her, one hand on the dragon.

  “She’s a female,” Liz said between gulping breaths. “You can tell by the coloring.”

  “Lumina,” I said.

  She nodded. “Lumina.” Then she sobbed the way people do when they’ve lost something precious. And I guess she had.

  THIRTY

  I collected all the horses-mine plus Liz’s, Candora’s and Marion’s-and after retrieving my sword burned down the old miner’s hut. The crows, vultures and rats attracted to Candora’s handiwork squawked and ran madly from the smoke. The ground was too rocky to give Marion a proper burial, and I doubted what was left of him would survive the trip back to Neceda intact. A pyre is a good way for a warrior to go, anyway. Even one who cried like a baby as he was eviscerated; even one who killed Hank Pinster. Candora had definitely balanced the scales for that crime.

  Liz was in really rough shape and couldn’t ride on her own. I searched the hut before I torched it, but her clothes were gone. Rather than try to get back to town right away, I made for Bella Lou and Buddy’s place. It would give us shelter and Liz a place to rest, and maybe I could find some discarded clothes for her as well.

  As we approached, though, I saw smoke rising from the chimney. When we reached the clearing, Bella Lou and the two kids emerged to greet us. Bella Lou looked sad, and tired, but when she saw Liz’s condition she went right to work. The children cleared a bed, Liz drank some medicinal tea and she was hard asleep within minutes. Bella Lou then treated her injuries with some homemade remedies. At no point did Bella Lou ask me what had happened.

  Later, after I’d cleaned up a bit as well, Bella joined me on the porch. She packed and lit a long pipe, and together we watched the trees wave in the wind. The kids played quietly in the yard.

  “So you came back,” I said.

  “Yeah.” She handed me Frankie’s money bag. “It’s all there. We don’t do charity. We’d always planned to leave if the government came after us, but this wasn’t the government’s doing. It was Buddy’s.”

  I nodded. “He really did kill someone. A friend of mine, actually.”

  “I know. He came and told me about it first. Cried like one of the children. I made him go to town and confess.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. And I know you tried to help him. Thank you.”

  “I owed him one. But if you knew he was guilty, why were you outside his cell yelling about conspiracies?”

  Her expression didn’t change. “I wanted him to die knowing his beliefs went on. He was a weak, spineless little man, but I loved him. It was the last thing I could give him.”

  The little girl Toy brought me a cup of tea. She curtsied after I took it. I thanked her and kissed her hand just the way a prince would. She grinned and ran away before I could see her blush. To Bella Lou I said, “Yep. Beliefs are important.”

  Now she smiled, wry and very sad. “Only if they’re true.”

  “If it’s any consolation, there should be no more dragon people bothering you.” I nodded at the horses, indicating Candora’s and Marion’s. “And those two? You can have them.”

  She shook her head and blew a puff from the pipe. “Like I said, we don’t take charity. We’ll be fine.”

  “Charity, hell. The guys those two belonged to are dead. I don’t want the bad luck.”

  She thought for a moment. “I can understand that,” she said at last. “Thanks.”

  LIZ slept most of the day, and did not stir until sundown. I dozed on the porch, and when I woke every injury I’d accumulated made sure
I knew it was around. The red-scarf’s knife cut on my shoulder was particularly painful. Bella Lou cleaned and bandaged it for me, and while I slept she also mended and got the bloodstain out of my coat. Buddy had been an idiot not to treat her better.

  We all ate some vague stew that Bella Lou conjured up. I didn’t recognize the meat in it; I assumed it was best not to ask.

  Liz still needed genuine medical attention, especially for the cut on her thigh. She borrowed some of Bella Lou’s clothes and we headed back to Neceda. She was still in no condition to ride on her own, so I tied her horse behind mine and she rode huddled in front of me, as Laura Lesperitt had done. The ride through the darkening forest was blessedly smooth and uneventful, and she quickly fell asleep.

  That peacefulness vanished as we emerged onto the plain. In the distance, something big was once again burning in Neceda, spewing flames tall enough to be reflected in the Gusay. I couldn’t make out what it might be from this distance.

  It was full dark as we entered town, and the streets were empty since everyone had once again congregated to watch something burn up. The crowd gathered at the corner of Ditch Street. Being on horseback let us see over the other onlookers.

  Someone let out a cheer as a cloud of sparks billowed forth, and the noise woke Liz. She squinted against the light and asked sleepily, “What’s burning now?”

  “The Lizard’s Kiss,” I said.

  Like the stable before, it was already a lost cause. Since all the doors and windows had been reinforced and sealed, the fire had gone straight up through the relatively flimsy roof, and the walls acted as a chimney that sent flames shooting into the night sky. The fire also worked its way around the jambs and sills, gnawing into the night air. The front door was open, and a dozen red-scarved men and crimson-cloaked women stood in the street staring up at the flames. The rich boys looked most confused, while the few hill people Candora hadn’t recruited seemed resigned to their bad luck. Neceda’s normal population gave them plenty of room.

  On his knees at the bottom of the stairs was old Tempcott, pounding the dirt and wailing, “Why, Lumina? Why? ” Prince Frederick, unrecognized and aimless without guidance, stood beside him like a lost puppy.

  “Lumina…,” Liz repeated softly. “Do you think…?”

  The lone dragon hatchling had left the cave the previous night, but it could not have set a fire that only flared to life now… could it? “No. Just a coincidence.”

  A man marched through the crowd, dragging one of the red-cloaked girls after him. People laughed mockingly as they passed. As they got nearer I recognized flatboat captain Sharky Shavers, and beneath the cloak was his daughter, Minnow.

  “… not hanging around with them goddamned freaks!” Sharky said in mid-bellow as he passed without noticing us. His eyes were downcast in shame and aggravation.

  Minnow tried to simultaneously pull her wrist free and keep the cloak closed to protect her modesty. “I am not a child, Daddy! I need something to believe in!”

  “You’ll believe in my foot up your ass if you ever do anything like…” His voice faded into the crowd.

  After a moment Liz said with certainty, “We’re never having children.”

  “Agreed,” I said, and kissed the top of her head.

  There was another commotion up the street. Callie stood over someone crouched on the ground, hands covering his head. She beat at him anyway with what looked like a broom handle. “You lying sack of donkey shit!” she yelled. “This was your ‘big-time gig’? You dishonest lump of cat turd!”

  Tony the minstrel risked a look up at her. “Baby, please, I can explain-”

  “Explain how come you’re a ball of chicken piss?” she screamed, and smacked him again. His partner watched nearby, but was smart enough not to come between Callie and the object of her ire.

  “And,” Liz added, “we’re never breaking up, because I don’t have the energy to go through all that drama.”

  “Agreed,” I repeated.

  There was little else to see, and nothing to do, so I took Liz on to the moon goddess hospital. She’d befriended most of the staff during my convalescence, and they descended on her like a benevolent swarm of tittering hens. They quickly took her from me, cleaned and dressed her wounds, then placed her in a quiet room for rest. Mother Mallory took me firmly aside and told me to go home and clean up so Liz wouldn’t wake and see me looking so awful.

  “And please,” she added, “take a bath. Whatever you’ve been rolling in almost makes my eyes water.”

  I still carried the scent from the cave, so I had to agree with her. Another set of clothes for the fire; at least they wouldn’t burn with me in them, the way Candora’s had.

  I went home and cleaned up, then stopped at Angelina’s. It was late, but the crowd was still healthy thanks to the fire. Callie stood in the corner, watching Tony the minstrel mop up some spilled ale. She had her hands on her hips and, although she no longer carried the broomstick, I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t hesitate to smack him around bare-handed if he got out of line. Some wags at a nearby table snickered and made snide comments.

  I took an open stool. When Angelina came by, I said, “I see Callie’s got the upper hand in the relationship now.”

  “At least until pretty boy earns back the money he stole from her. Not too smart to run out on your girl and only go a couple of streets over.”

  “ ‘Smart’ doesn’t seem to apply much to minstrels,” I agreed. “I didn’t see you at the fire.”

  She waved her hand. “I’ve seen plenty of things burn down in my life. Besides, I wanted to make sure none of those weird red-rag people came running in here. They need to just go back to the hills where they came from.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “ I’m harsh, in case you hadn’t noticed. Are you hungry?”

  “Are you harsh?”

  “Hang on, then; I’ll whip something up.” She went into the kitchen, and I watched Callie continue to monitor her ex-boyfriend’s progress. He was soot streaked from the fire, as well as red eyed and pale from lack of giggleweed, but maybe sobering up was what he needed. He stopped mopping and looked to her for approval. She pointed to something he’d missed, and he wearily resumed his work. A bearded tanner poured some ale on the floor right in front of Tony’s mop, but he said nothing. The tanner and his friends laughed.

  Callie flounced over to me, almost shivering with delight at the new balance of power. “And how are you tonight, Mr. LaCrosse?” she said as she kissed me on the cheek.

  “Not as good as you, apparently.”

  “Well, Tony and I have reached an understanding. He’s working off the debt he owes me; then we’re going to send for Joan Diter and he’ll go to work for her.”

  “Why?”

  Callie leaned close and whispered, “Because he burned down the Lizard’s Kiss. Passed out and knocked over his giggleweed pipe.”

  “No,” I said with mock surprise.

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. He’s lucky nobody died. And now he’s going to pay for it. For me, and for every other girl he’s ever screwed, then screwed over.”

  Callie returned to supervising Tony, and Angelina brought me a plate of food. “So how’s Liz?”

  I gave her the short version, without mentioning the dragons. It still made her eyebrows crawl toward her hairline. “Holy shit, is she okay?” she asked when I was done.

  “She will be. She’s resting, which is really what she needs. She’ll have some scars, but we all have those. And she’ll be sore for a while. But she really came through in the end. Don’t find many people, men or women, who can keep their cool like that.”

  “No, you don’t,” Angelina agreed. “So what about that other thing that was bothering you before?”

  I shrugged as I wolfed down some gravy-soaked bread. “Seems kind of insubstantial now. I mean, we’ll talk about it, but it matters a lot less than I thought it did.”

  She mussed my hair the way she’d don
e to Hank Pinster’s oldest boy. “You big softie. I bet you bleed pudding, don’t you?”

  I finished my dinner, then went upstairs to check my office. Nothing looked different from the last time I’d been there two days ago, when I found old man Lesperitt waiting; certainly no new clients were hiding under my desk. I’d have to see about that fairly soon. Dragon slaying sure didn’t pay very well.

  I grabbed some of Liz’s belongings from our place and returned to the hospital. They still wanted to keep her quiet and isolated, but they let me stretch out in an empty room and gave me something to make me sleep. Which I did, straight through to morning, deep and blessedly dreamless.

  They brought me in to see her then. She slept peacefully on clean white linen. She’d been washed, her wrists bandaged and the cut across her thigh tended. With her hair held back by a headband I saw the bruises on her forehead and jaw, the swollen bridge of her nose and her lips cracked and dried from dehydration. If Candora hadn’t already been killed in a manner more horrible than anything I could’ve inflicted, I’d have made the process a long and slow one, worthy of the man who cut Marion up alive.

  Still, Liz looked more beautiful than ever to me. I sat in the bedside chair and touched the back of her hand lightly above the bandage. She made a little whimper of contentment but did not awaken.

  There was a soft tap at the door. I turned, expecting to see one of the young apprentices or Mother Mallory, but instead a slight figure in an expensive hooded cloak stood there. In the brightly lit hospital this looked especially out of place, and my hand went automatically for the knife in my boot.

  The figure pushed the hood back. Princess Veronica said softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  I sat back and glared at her. “You are.”