by E. D. Baker
As they approached the first of the huts, they passed a man armed with a rusted bell and an old, battered sword. He was peering into the woods, but he looked away long enough to nod at the boys and give Millie and her friends a cursory glance before turning back to the trees.
“What’s he looking for?” Francis asked Seth, but the boy had seen someone else and was already waving and shouting.
“Pa!” called Seth. “Come see who we found!”
A group of men gathered in front of one of the huts turned around. One of the men spoke to the rest, then hobbled toward the children like an old man, using a knobbed stick to help him walk. “Who’ve you got there, son?” asked the man.
“We found them by the stream, Pa. We offered them a meal.”
Their father frowned. “Which stream are you talking about?” he asked. “You went into the forest again, didn’t you? How many times have I told you not to go—”
“These two are princesses, Pa! We heard the fella say it!”
“Princesses?” the father said in disbelief. “I’m sure he didn’t mean real princesses. You didn’t, did you?” he asked, turning to Francis.
“As a matter of fact …,” Francis began.
The look in his eyes must have been all the affirmation the boys’ father needed. Years seemed to melt away from his face and his voice became more animated as he said, “They’re real? Who would have believed it? Boys, go tell your mother to add the last of that goat meat to the pot. We got ourselves two real princesses for guests! We’re going to have us a party tonight!”
“If you don’t have enough food—,” said Millie.
“No, no, we’d be honored to have you stay, Your Highness,” the man said, his head nodding like a toy on a string. “It isn’t every day such fine young people as yourselves come to our village. My name’s Jacob,” he said as he escorted them into one of the huts. “And you’ve met my boys, Seth and John. That’s my wife, Bernia, there by the fireplace.” A matronly woman smiled and nodded, but it was Jacob who said, “So, what brings you to our part of the kingdom?”
“We’re on a quest to the Icy North,” said Francis.
“Well, then, a good hot meal is just what you need. You won’t be getting many of them up there. Now, you have a seat right here,” said Jacob, indicating the only bench in the poorly lit room, “and I’ll see about getting you something to eat.”
There was barely space on the bench for all three of them to sit, but Millie, Zoë, and Francis squeezed together as villagers piled into the room. Men and women, young and old had come to see the strangers. The young men greeted Francis politely enough, but then turned their attention to Millie and Zoë, smiling at them and trying to talk over the din as more and more people arrived. Millie noticed that she and Zoë were the only girls there more than five or six years old. There were adult women, of course, but no other girls close in age. She thought it was odd and was about to mention it to her friends when an old man with an ancient lute appeared in the doorway. Working his way through the crowd, he took a spot on the hearth and soon lively music joined the noisy conversation.
Millie was flattered by all the attention the young men were paying her and was sorry that it was impossible to hear what they were saying. They seemed nice, however, passing a mug of cider from hand to hand until it reached her, and doing the same with a bowl of stew when it was ready. After that, Millie’s mug was rarely empty. Although Zoë didn’t eat anything, even she couldn’t refuse the full mug they pressed on her.
As everyone around them ate, or at least drank, the evening wore on in a haze of good food and better music. It wasn’t until Millie had turned down a third helping of stew that Jacob raised his hand in the air and called for quiet. “Now that you’ve had a chance to sample our hospitality, we’re anxious to know what news you might have to share. What can you tell us about the Kingdom of Bull-rush?”
“We haven’t seen much of Bullrush,” said Francis. “Just the will-of-the-wisps and the river.”
“I’ve heard tell of those will-of-the-wisps,” said the old man with the lute. “They take you places no man wants to go and leave you there till your bones rot.”
“They can’t harm you if you don’t follow them,” said Millie. “Just stay out of the bog or take a serviceable torch with you if you have to go in.”
“You don’t say?” said Jacob. “And what about the kingdoms beyond?”
“Sea serpents are attacking Chancewold,” said Francis. “There’s never before been so many plaguing them at once.”
“Ah,” said one of the young men, “that would be by the sea, then?”
“It’s beside the Yaloo River,” said Francis. “Chance-wold is in southern Upper Montevista.”
“I’ve been there,” said the old man. “I went with my pa when I was just a boy.”
“What else can you tell us?” asked Bernia.
Zoë cleared her throat. “The giants are building a boat so they can explore the Eastern Sea and what lies beyond.”
“Giants are curious folk, always poking their noses into the strangest things,” said the old man.
“And the people of Upper Montevista are more accepting of witches now than they used to be,” said Millie. “They have some helping their army.”
“Those Upper Montevistans always were smart people,” said Jacob. “I remember a few years back when …”
As individual conversations started around the room, parents with younger children began to gather their families and take them down the lane to their own huts. One couple with a little girl about five years old stopped in front of Millie and Zoë. “Thank you,” said the woman. “You don’t know how much it means to us to have you here. I’m just sorry that—”
“Now, Ebba,” said her husband, taking her by the arm, “we mustn’t bother the princesses with your chatter. It’s time we got Maite to bed.”
Ebba nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s all I wanted to say.”
“What do you think that was about?” Millie whispered as the woman’s husband hustled her out the door.
“I don’t know,” said Zoë. “Maybe she was sorry because they couldn’t stay longer.”
“I suppose,” Millie said, but the woman had made her uneasy.
Over a dozen people had gone home, leaving more room in the hut. The young men gathered closer now and sat on the floor in front of the bench. “I hear you like to fish,” said one.
“I don’t know if I do or not,” Millie replied. “Today was the first time I’ve ever tried it. I wasn’t sure how to do it, so I’m afraid I made a mess of things.” He was a good-looking young man and talking to him made Millie wonder what it would have been like if she hadn’t been born a princess and had lived in a village like this one.
“I’d be happy to show you how,” he said, his eyes smiling into hers.
“Gib!” said his friend, elbowing him in the side. “She’s a princess, remember!”
The young man blushed and looked away. “My apologies,” he said. “I shouldn’t be making offers I can’t keep.”
“We have to go,” Francis said, getting to his feet. “It’s already dark.”
Millie glanced out the door as she stood up beside him. The room had been so dark inside that she hadn’t noticed that the sun had set or that their hosts had lit candles. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she said. “We never should have stayed so long.”
“You don’t have to go!” said Jacob. “I was planning to offer you a place to spend the night. I know we can’t offer you anything like you’re accustomed to, but we can give you a warm place to sleep and breakfast in the morning.”
“We really must go,” said Millie. “We need to reach the Icy North as soon as possible.”
“Surely you can stay for one more drink!” said Jacob.
“I don’t think we—,” Francis began.
“Here you go!” said Bernia, refilling their mugs with her pitcher. “You have to have a drink in your hand so we can wish
you well.”
Jacob raised his mug, saying, “To a safe journey!” Still watching Millie and her friends, he drank deeply and smacked his lips when he’d finished.
Millie, Zoë, and Francis looked at one another. Francis shrugged, and all three friends drank from their mugs.
“To friendly faces and good food,” Francis said, prompting them all to drink again.
“I need to sit down,” Millie said after taking another sip. The room had started to sway and her head was feeling a little funny. “Just for a minute or two.” Sitting heavily on the bench, she bumped into Zoë, who had sprawled across half the seat. With her eyes closed for just a moment, Millie didn’t notice Francis slump to the floor, seemingly boneless.
Eleven
Millie decided that her mouth tasted the way her shoes might after a trip through the stable yard. Her eyelids were so heavy that she wasn’t sure she could open them, or even if she wanted to. Her mind was blurry, her thoughts fleeting and hard to hold on to as she tried to remember where she was and why she was there. Wherever it was, it wasn’t very comfortable. Her back hurt, her ribs and arms were sore, and her neck was so stiff that it hurt to move it even the tiniest bit.
It was a few minutes before she remembered the party the night before and the nice villagers she’d met. They’d offered her and her friends beds for the night. She couldn’t recall if she’d accepted their offer, but she must have fallen asleep at some point.
“Psst, Millie!” It was Zoë’s voice, sounding rough and scratchy. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Millie shook her head, wincing at the pain in her neck. She was too muzzy-headed to focus on anything for long and had to fight to open her eyes; when she finally got them open, nothing made any sense. While she’d expected to see a wall if she was in a villager’s hut or leaves if she was lying under a tree, all she could see were rocks, dirt, and a pair of filthy feet in scuffed shoes. She were wondering who the shoes might belong to when she realized that they were hers.
“Millie!” Zoë said again, her voice louder. “Wake up! We have to talk.”
Millie groaned and raised her head, which she hadn’t realized was hanging limp until that very moment. It was so bright out that her eyes began to water. She blinked to clear her vision, but her lids felt grainy and rough, making her eyes water all the more. It wasn’t until she tried to rub her eyelids that she realized her wrists were tied and she couldn’t move them. A rope had been wrapped around her waist and another around her ankles, securing her to something cold and hard behind her.
“I’m over here,” said Zoë. Millie turned her head in her friend’s direction. Zoë was tied just like she was and secured to a stone pillar. “I think the villagers did it. They must have put something in that cider. I didn’t eat anything and the cider was the only thing I drank.”
“But why would they do that?” asked Millie. “They seemed so nice.”
“I don’t know,” said Zoë, “but it can’t be for anything good. Do you think you can free yourself? Maybe your magic …”
Millie shook her head and winced. The movement had made her dizzy and made her head ache. “I can try, but I doubt it will work. My head feels funny. I don’t think I can concentrate enough to do my magic yet.”
“Why don’t you try while I go see if I can find Francis? I shouldn’t be gone long.”
“But how are you going to … Oh, yeah,” Millie said, having forgotten for a moment that Zoë could turn into a bat. Things were getting fuzzier, almost as if she … A moment later, Millie’s head sagged again.
Millie came around the next time to the sound of crunching gravel and the swoosh, swoosh of rubbing scales. Her head was a little clearer this time, her mind not quite so muzzy. Zoë was gone—Millie remembered that she had been there—and no one else could have made the noise, unless … What Millie had thought was a rock suddenly swung around and looked in her direction. It was a head, covered in dull red scales and attached to a long, snakelike body that stretched nearly twenty-five feet behind it. Millie thought it might be a snake until she saw that it had two legs and wings so tiny that it couldn’t possibly fly.
Seeing that Millie was awake, the beast studied her in silence, almost as if expecting her to do something. Nearly a minute went by while they watched each other before the creature said, “Why aren’t you screaming? The others always screamed, most of them quite loudly.”
“Why would I scream?” asked Millie.
The creature snorted. “Perhaps you don’t know enough to be afraid. Don’t you know what I am? I’m a dragon and I’m here to eat you. Someone tied you up so you could be my dinner. I’m going to bite you and my venom will make you writhe in pain before it kills you. Are you going to scream now?”
Millie shook her head. She wasn’t afraid. After all, she was much more powerful than this creature—when she was a dragon. She was wary, however, because she wasn’t a dragon now. As a human, she was as vulnerable to this creature’s bite as anyone else. If she could hold it off for just a few minutes, she might be able to make herself get angry.
“You’re not really a dragon, so I don’t know why you call yourself one. I know a good number of dragons. They all have real wings and can fly. I’ve heard about creatures like you. You’re a knucker.”
“My, aren’t we the expert?” said the knucker. “It doesn’t matter what you call me, I can still kill you with one bite.”
“I thought knuckers ate rabbits and deer.”
“Or stray children. I ate a few, then got a real taste for them. When the villagers kept them at home, I destroyed a few of their hovels and told them they had to give me a girl a week or I’d destroy their village and kill them all. The silly things begged and groveled until I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m a kindhearted beast under this scaly exterior, so I made a deal with them. I told them I’d eat their children until they gave me a princess or two. I’ve heard that princesses are sweet and very tender. But I’m sure that will never happen. There hasn’t been a princess around here in years.”
The knucker began to scratch at the ground with his talons and it took Millie a moment to realize that he was toying with old bones, all with deep grooves that could only be the marks of knucker teeth. Millie tried to get mad by thinking about the villagers and how they had betrayed her and her friends. But she couldn’t get too angry with them. The bones scattered around the pillars showed just how many loved ones the villagers had already lost.
“I tried eating the younger ones, but now I eat only the girls of a certain age,” said the knucker. “Too young and they don’t have enough meat on their bones. Too old and they’re tough and stringy. You look to be just about right,” he said, eyeing Millie with appreciation. “Are you ready to scream yet? I’d enjoy eating you more if you screamed. You’d get your juices flowing then. I really like that in my food.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” said Millie. “I would be if you were a dragon. Of course, if you were a dragon, you could fly away from here and find your own princesses.”
“Pha! Flying is overrated.”
“You’re just saying that because you can’t do it. Why, I’ve seen dragons at the Dragon Olympics who could do the most beautiful loops and spins. And the flames! Why, Flame Snorter can breathe a flame nearly a hundred feet long.”
“Aha!” shouted the knucker. “I thought there was something about you! Your smell alone would give you away. You wear their stench like a bad perfume. If you’ve gone to the Olympics, you must be friends with the big dragons. They’re soft-brained fools to befriend humans like you. They couldn’t be any dumber if they tried!”
“How can you say such things?” said Millie, not noticing her skin beginning to prickle and the pressure growing behind her eyes. “They are the smartest, most bighearted creatures in all the kingdoms. Compared to them, you’re nothing but a newt!”
“A newt!” shrilled the knucker. “How dare you? I get sick to my stomach just thinking about those high-and-mighty d
ragons giving themselves airs when everybody knows that they crawl out of their shell one leg at a time, just like everybody else. And I’ve heard talk about your friend Flame Snorter. She eats gunga beans and hot flami-peppers to stoke up her fire. If that isn’t cheating, I’d like to know what is!”
“Flame Snorter is not a cheater,” Millie growled as the pressure filled her head and made her spine feel like it was burning. “All the dragons at the Olympics eat gunga beans and hot flami-peppers. If you had ever gone, you would know that.”
Millie’s skull was already changing shape as the knucker cried, “Are you calling me a liar? I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to wait for you to scream. One bite and you’ll scream, anyway. What are you doing? No, you can’t … That’s not possible!”
The ropes broke with a loud snap as Millie’s muscles grew. She stretched her neck, arching it over the knucker. Knowing that her wings were impressive, she opened them behind her and fanned the air. “You were wrong,” she breathed, letting a trickle of smoke escape from between her teeth. “I’m not a Dragon Friend. I’m one of those soft-brained fools. And guess what? I eat gunga beans and hot flami-peppers, too. That must mean I’m a cheater. Want to see how far I can breathe my flame?”
“I never s-said … I-I mean, I didn’t know … H-how could you …?” stuttered the knucker.
Millie narrowed her eyes and bent down so that her nose was almost touching his. “I would run if I were you,” she whispered in a menacing voice. “And never come back here again. If I ever hear that you or any of your kind are hurting these people, I will hunt you down. I might even get my friends to help me. Maybe we can make a contest out of it. You’d better go now. I’m giving you to the count of three and not one second longer.”
The knucker ran so fast that by the time Millie had counted to three all she could see of him was the dust he’d stirred up. Inhaling deeply, Millie shot her flame down the path he’d taken. The stream of fire turned the bones on the ground to ash, crisped the grass, and licked the ground fifty feet away. Millie thought she heard a pained yelp, but she decided that it was probably just wishful thinking.