I doubted that immediately. My father might be a hard man-- a harsh and a stern man some might say-- but he would never willingly seek to start a war, I was sure of it – would he?
“And so, the Lord Vincent has taken it upon himself to ask us, the Draconis Order, to do what we were meant to be doing here. To calm the relations between the Three Kingdoms, and to remind the princes and warlords just what we are trying to accomplish. You, Char Nefrette, against my wishes, are going to be sent to the Northern Kingdom as a part of a delegation of treaty with your father, where you will plead and bargain with your father for peace. Do you understand?”
I coughed in the sudden shock. I didn’t understand. My heart felt immediately torn between returning home, and leaving the dragons—Paxala-- behind. “But, but sire – my training here hasn’t even been completed…”
“You do not have to tell me that, Nefrette,” the Abbot said, squinting his eyes at me. “But I must say that I am a little relieved that you will not be interfering with the education of the other students here, at least for a few weeks.”
“But, Abbot…” I tried to say. I wondered what had caused this, why was Prince Vincent sending me away north so easily? Was it a part of negotiating this treaty with his brother, my father? What game were they playing, with my life as the bargaining chip?
And how could I leave Paxala and the other dragons behind? I thought in alarm.
“I do not quite see why you are so upset, Nefrette. You are returning home for a while. Or do you care for our company that much?” The Abbot sneered, every word dripping with sarcasm. “You will have an escort of course, of the monks that I can trust to instruct you during your absence-”
And who will report back to him, no doubt.
“-and I do not need to remind you, child, that whilst you are away the other students here, your friends might I add, will have to pick up your slack. If I discover that you are disobeying your tutors, or are bringing shame to our liege, lord Prince Vincent, then, well…” The Abbot didn’t continue, but instead turned to sigh sadly as he looked down at the Main Hall below us where my friends and colleagues ate right now. “This monastery works only when we all work together, don’t you think? Towards the same goal. If there is one rotten apple then the whole batch can get spoiled.”
The threat was clear. If I chose to disobey the Abbot or Prince Vincent by remaining here – not in the monastery but out on the mountain with Paxala maybe – somewhere I could continue my plan to sneak into the crater, then I would bring down punishment and revenge on the heads of my friends here – Neill, Sigrid, Dorf, Lila; and now perhaps even Maxal Ganna.
“Do you understand what I am telling you, child?” The Abbot shot me a look.
“Yes, your grace. I understand perfectly,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Good. You will be leaving tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? I thought in alarm. I had to see Paxala. I had to see Neill, I thought in alarm as the Abbot continued speaking.
“…There are some dried apples and water on the table, see that you eat before our lesson begins. Ah look, little Maxal and the others are coming.” The Abbot simpered as the shapes of the other would-be Mages left the doors of the Main Hall and made their way to the bottom of the tower. I could have growled at the Abbot if I had thought that it would do any good. He had clearly known that I wouldn’t have time to get dinner after his little lecture and the Mage meditations began again, but I managed a couple of bites from the meagre, sour provisions he’d provided. Truth was, I wasn’t really hungry anyway, my mind still in turmoil.
How could I leave Paxala? How was Lila going to cement her bond with the young Blue without my aid? What would happen to the other young dragons while I was away?
The other students filed in slowly, some surprised to see me there, taking their places where they had stood around the room before the battle. Maxal shot me a warning look, but didn’t say anything as we waited instruction.
“Clear your minds, students,” the Abbot began as always, but I found it impossible. Frightful fantasies and nightmares of monks throwing chains and lassos onto baby dragons filled my mind, along with dark shadows with torches surrounding Paxala’s hidden cave in the middle of the night. Could I refuse to go? What would happen then? Had my father really been starting these skirmishes at Faldin’s Bridge, one side being declared the North, and the other the Middle? Why would he do that now? It was no surprise to me that there would be tensions between my father and my uncle. There had been stories of skirmishes before, of caravans going missing, and trade embargoes levied in response. There had been the constant sending-back and forth of diplomats and counsellors. But a war? There was a lot of talk of a civil war brewing amongst the students. Their parents’ letters had been full of questions about the Sons of Torvald battle, and what it portended for the entire Three Kingdoms. Was that why my father would harass the borders and demand my return before the Middle Kingdom tore itself apart?
In a way, that idea made me feel a little comforted, in an anxious way. My father had only ever looked at me as a pawn before now anyway – did this mean that he cared for me? My heart sank as I considered a much more likely scenario: That all this was happening because I’d refused to return home with Wurgan. Or had the Abbot somehow learned that I’d tried to help Lila befriend the young Blue, and now he was trying to stop us?
The meditation class was long, tedious, and taxing in a way that concentrating and standing for long periods leave a deep ache in the bones. The Abbot didn’t seem to have changed his tactics at all since we’d last trained—before the battle. He opened the shutters to leave our bodies cold, and made us stand or crouch for long periods in awkward positions because, as he said, ‘discomfort purifies the mind.’ When it came time to start rehearsing the mental images once again - the crown, the dragon’s tooth, the flame, the sword –my mind couldn’t conjure their images. Instead I thought of Paxala, and Neill, and the other dragons. At several junctures during this process, when my body was shaking with exhaustion and my mind was numb with brain fog, I felt a sort of buzzing headache and a pressure around my ears. It was almost similar to the feeling before a storm, of heaviness and approaching threat, and when I looked up I saw the Abbot regarding me carefully.
“You’re not trying hard enough!” the Abbot burst out after the last feeling of invisible pressure, before snarling at the skies outside. “Clearly, your time away from lessons has made your thinking sloppy and weak! You will return to practicing your images, every morning and every night, and we will meet here once every week to see how you have progressed. Now, get out all of you,” he said with a snap, pointing his finger at the door which swung open of its own accord.
We were only too eager to pile down the tower steps and make for our beds, and I could see from the faces of the other students that they were just as worried and as tired as I was by the Abbot’s erratic behavior.
“At least he’s not doing nightly classes anymore,” a voice whispered shyly beside me as we crossed the practice courtyard. It was Maxal Ganna, his brow was furrowed. I nodded. He had a point. Before the battle, the Abbot had made us take this meditation class every night after dinner, but now it would only be once a week—though of course, I wouldn’t even be here to practice.
Did that mean that the Abbot was weaker than he was before? Had Jodreth managed to injure his magical power somehow? Or, I thought in alarm – were the Abbot’s other schemes keeping him busy? Could the treaty negotiations be just one part of a larger plan the Abbot was making? We had to know what the Abbot was up to, but there was no way that I could do that if I was hundreds of leagues away to the north. Maybe that’s exactly the point.
With a heavy heart, I trudged up the girl’s dormitory tower to my bed. I didn’t practice any of his silly meditation images, either.
CHAPTER 9
THE CROWN
“Pax?” I whispered into the night. I couldn’t have slept even if I wanted to, and the Abbot’s ultimat
um this evening just made it all the more difficult. I had waited until it was deep dark before carefully sliding from my cot and getting dressed, sneaking out of the room to pad softly down the stairs, across the courtyard, and out through the Kitchen Garden gate and onto the mountain slopes beyond, hurrying over the rocks and boulders, heading for the deeply wooded ravines on the far side.
“I am here,” I heard her in my mind, as a dark shadow swept across the brilliant night sky. Paxala was being silent – even I hadn’t heard her swoop past me.
“You’re getting good at hiding,” I congratulated her. But would it be enough while I am gone? Why should she even have to hide? I thought in despair.
“Char is going?” A note of alarm sounded in the reptile’s thoughts, as there was a light thump as she landed in a clearing ahead of me, turning with a swishing tail.
“I don’t want to, but if I don’t – the Abbot will start hurting the students,” I said miserably, telling her just what the Abbot had demanded that I do the very next day.
“Then Paxala will come with Char,” the dragon announced, dipping her head above mine to nuzzle at the top of my head.
“No, Pax, I wish that you could, but the Northlanders… they see dragons very differently than even the Draconis Order.” I tried to explain to Paxala how the wild mountain dragons were nothing like the Crimson Red here before me. They were smaller, vicious, and boiled like writhing snakes together out of their hidden places in the mountains, ripping the flesh from anything that moved. My father Prince Lander had ordered that they be shot on sight as even a small brood could destroy a flock of cattle in moments. “It wouldn’t be safe for you to travel North,” I said urgently. I had to get her to understand. “I need you here, I need you looking after Neill and the others. The hatchlings.”
“No. Where Char goes, I will go,” Paxala said once more. “You are mine, and I am yours. That is the end of it.” She jerked her head forward then, bumping me in the chest to push me none-too-gently. Being reprimanded by a dragon – even a friendly dragon – could sometimes hurt.
“Oh, Pax.” I sighed. What was I going to do? How could I encourage her to stay here, without me? Or, if she did follow the entourage, could she remain out of sight from my father and his troops in the north?
Zaxx. I thought darkly. That was the problem. With Zaxx still in that crater there ruling over every helpless dragon then no one would be safe. No dragonet, no hatchling, and certainly not Paxala here. I knew that even if I did manage to convince the Crimson Red to stay here at the Dragon Mountain without me, then there was still nothing that I would be able to do to stop Zaxx from attacking her. Zaxx had already killed Paxala’s parents, and when he discovered that Paxala was flying free then the old bull might even think that she was a threat to him.
How could I leave Pax here, unguarded?
“Char need never worry about Paxala!” the Crimson Red scoffed. “I will be with her wherever she goes, anyway.”
“But then what about the young Blue that Lila is befriending?” I asked in desperation. “Who will protect her from Zaxx? Or from the Abbot?”
Pax shook her snout, huffing sooty air into the sky. She had no answers to this conundrum, and through our mental connection I could sense her growing frustration. “Human problems!” she said severely, lashing her tail to take out a nearby sapling. “Char wants me to stay to look after the young dragons, but Char doesn’t want me to fight the bull? Humans make everything complicated, when it should be simple.” Paxala growled.
“But how could it be simple?” I breathed, feeling trapped.
“You stay. We live in my cave. We fight the bull.” Paxala growled pragmatically.
My heart fell. “I wish that I could, Pax,” I said morosely. “I truly wish that I could – but if I don’t go, then my father might start a war. A human war is a terrible thing. Many hundreds die. My brother could die. Our friends here could die.”
“Everyone dies eventually, Char,” the dragon said dismissively, and I realized how very different a dragon’s take on the world was from a human.
“All you can choose is how to hunt, when to sleep, and who to fight – today,” Pax said as I felt her turning to take a bound and then a leap into the night sky.
“Pax, wait…” I groaned, knowing I had upset her. Maybe it was for the best that she was annoyed with me, I thought with a heavy heart. At least then she might not follow me when I traveled north with the other monks.
But the thought of leaving her here with the other monks and the Abbot was too much. No. I had to find a way to fix this…. With no better plan in mind, I jumped to my feet and turned towards the dragon crater.
There was a rattle as scree slid from the side of the cliff and fell down in the dark. I could only be glad that it was night and that I couldn’t actually see how far it fell as I clung to the rock.
I was once again climbing down into the dragon crater, using the same path that I had taken before with Neill, Sigrid, and Dorf, but this time without ropes. It was strangely easier to do this on my own, and in the dark – as I was no longer scared for their lives; only my own.
My anger and fury at what the Abbot was asking me to do outweighed my fear. However, I had to at least save one egg from the clutches of Zaxx before I was sent north. Perhaps I could even take the egg to Paxala to keep warm, I thought, aware that the plan was a reckless one – I was going into the crater alone, without friends, without back-up, and on the same day that Zaxx had roared his threat at us. But I also knew that it might be the only chance that I might get.
My father might not allow me to come back, if this were some part of a complicated peace deal between him and Uncle Vincent. My father must have been incandescent with anger when he realized that I was not returning north with brother Wurgan and his men, and this might have been his way of ensuring that I did come north – perhaps he’d threatened Prince Vincent that he would attack Faldin’s Bridge if he didn’t get his daughter back? That didn’t sound like my father, but times were chaotic now.
My foot scraped once more on the narrow ledge of rock underneath and I heard a cracking sound.
There! I reached the far ledge, holding myself against the rock for a moment as I caught my breath and hauled myself over the edge to roll, panting, to the safer shelves of rock. Below me there came the soft whuffling noises of sleeping dragons as the Earth dragons turned and rolled in their slumbers. As quietly as I could, I crept past the boulder field and down to the crater floor itself. It was warmer down here, constantly hot thanks to the warm springs and steams that seemed to rise throughout this mountain. Giant ferns that were twice my size dwarfed me as I jogged first this way, and then that.
There was a low-pitched groan as what I had thought was a fat, low boulder turned over in its sleep, revealing short, crocodile like arms and a wingless and broad body. I froze, my heart in my throat. It was another Earth dragon. They didn’t go into the caves below at night, as Zaxx and the other dragons regarded them as little better than animals. I still knew that their grunts and howls would bring the interest of dragons down on me though, as I tiptoed carefully around him, watching as his nostrils flared, dreaming of my scent.
“Char? What is Char doing?” Paxala’s voice resounded in my mind. Through our connection, I could sense her alarm as she wheeled and turned in her flight. She had flown far to the north on the cooler winds, and I guessed that she must have been trying to scout the way ahead for when she would either follow or carry me to my father’s keep.
“I am in the dragon crater,” I thought back at her, amazed at how easy and clear this connection between us was becoming. I felt through her mind the clear chill of wind on her body, the scent of fresh crisp snows in the north, and even the scurry of rabbits and voles on the ground beneath her passage, hurrying for cover. I wondered if we were bonding closer, the dragon and I, or whether it was my natural magic becoming stronger and allowing this deeper connection. What was it Feodor had said, something about being a dragon
friend?
“Char must leave the crater. Now!” Paxala breathed into my mind, shutting off our connection so abruptly that I recoiled from her command. I stumbled a little on the path, and ignored her. I had no time to think about what Paxala wanted me to do, or to wonder about Monk Feodor’s old legends and superstitions.
I had to save at least one more dragon while I had the chance.
My steps took me to the edges of the mothering caves, where I could see the low openings and even hear the wheezes of the White brood mothers inside. Knowing this hadn’t gone so well last time, my plan was now simple. No sneaking, no panicking. Just run in, seize an egg, place it into my soft hessian sack, and escape. The brood White might wake up, she might roar and chase me – but she would also be lethargic and slow given her size and the fact that it was the middle of the night, and cold. Dragons need heat, I reminded myself – all apart from the wild northern mountain dragons it seemed, which somehow survived in the snows up there. But I wasn’t in the north, and down here I had a chance to get out and at least halfway across the crater before Middle Kingdom dragons could follow.
I tried not to think about what would happen when they did. With any luck, the brood Whites might not wake up at all, as no dragon it seemed--aside from Paxala-- coped well at night. They are sun-blooded creatures, powered and filled with the warmth of the sun – or so I had read, which didn’t explain the fact that wild mountain dragons spent most of their time at cold altitude. Obviously, dragon texts didn’t cover everything there was to know and understand about the creatures.
This has to work, because if it doesn’t… I loosened the velvet bag from my shoulder and took a step forward. If it didn’t work then everything I had done over the past two years—disobeying the Abbot, hiding and rearing Paxala in secret, risking my life – all of it would be for naught. Zaxx the bull would still be in charge down here, and eventually the Abbot and Zaxx together would find Paxala. There had to be more free dragons in the world if we were going to counter the fell evil of the Draconis Order and the Dragon Mountain.
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