Lady Dragon, Tela Du

by Kendra E. Ardnek

  “I would if you would listen,” said Laura, shaking her head. “But I’m afraid that you haven’t heeded my words for over three thousand years, and I don’t think you’ll begin now.”

  “I’m no longer a child, Doorkeeper.”

  “No one is beyond the need of good advice, Amber. Not even I.”

  “So you’ve come to tell me again that you disapprove of the choices I make? You yourself warn to never judge!”

  “Unless you are placed in a position of authority and asked to do it.” Laura folded her arms behind her back and stared at Amber unflinchingly. “I do not judge. Alphego has judged you already. I come to warn. Turn back now. Please. Rizkaland does not need you.”

  “I have been promised!”

  Laura shook her head. “Alphego sometimes gives us what we want, not because it is best, but because we will have it no other way. You will suffer the consequences of your decision, as will Rizkaland itself. Will you come to regret it? I cannot say.”

  “You cannot say?” asked Amber. “You, Laura, who knows all things future, cannot say?”

  “Amber! There are things that I know but cannot speak. You march smiling towards your death saying that you live.”

  “Do I die? I thought the fate of my battle was uncertain. Either of us could win our war, and I intend for it to be me.”

  “Intentions don’t change your fate. Decisions do.” Laura stared hard into Amber’s eyes. “And you have a decision in front of you right now. Do you carry on as you are? Do you hasten your death? Or shall you turn back and fulfill the task that Alphego asked of you?”

  “I cannot turn back now.”

  “You can, but you won’t.” Laura turned away with a shake of her head. “You’ve set your step, and nothing I can say can sway you until you meet with the Tela Du in battle.” Then she turned back to Amber with a hard expression. “Give me your cloth.”

  “My cloth?” Amber repeated, her hand instantly reaching to cover her heart, where she had tucked the shimmering bit of silver cloth that had extended her life far past what was natural.

  “Yes, your cloth.” Laura held out an expectant hand.

  For a moment, Amber was transported back six thousand years to her childhood when she would do anything the Doorkeeper bid, such was her blind devotion. Automatically, she pulled out the cloth and placed it in Laura’s hand.

  Laura balled her fist around it. “I never told you the history of this cloth – what it was meant to do.”

  Amber chose not to answer, though her curiosity burned. It wasn’t often that Laura meddled with any of the magical items that Amber had collected over the years.

  “Neither did Queen Jade, did she?” Laura continued. “No, she was ashamed. These cloths are the failure of Luna, though they tried to hide it with glory. Queen Amorite forged them with a drop of my blood, in hopes that it would give her and King Flint control over me and my powers, and in hopes that she could gain the power of the Eternal Queen of Solar.”

  “Is that why you have such an obsession with me?”

  “It’s a very small part of it, Amber.” Laura’s eyes softened a moment as she shook her head. “Queen Amorite failed. Instead of gaining control of me, she put herself and her husband under my power, and froze their bodies in time – they achieved the immortality, but not the sort she sought. Their deaths could only come at my permission, and the cloths and my control would pass on to the ones who brought about the deaths. An endless cycle that only I can break.”

  Then, with a sharp movement, Laura ripped the cloth in half. The sound tore painfully through Amber, and yet the material remained whole and unblemished.

  “I have just given the Tela Du permission to kill you. Guard yourself, Amber. You march towards your death.”

  Laura shoved the cloth back into Amber’s hand, spun around and strode away. Amber stood still, the Doorkeeper’s words washing over her. Slowly she replaced the cloth, noting how it tingled painfully.

  She turned back to see Laura speaking with Granite, but the Doorkeeper looked up and met Amber’s gaze.

  Laura’s eyes narrowed, and with a voice that Amber had only heard her use twice before, she whispered, “Go.” The castle trembled with the word’s power.

  Amber turned and fled.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Amber found the nearest farm, she had regained control over herself. By the time she found the people who worked the farm, she had perfected her plan.

  Amber had long since learned that the best plans were never rushed, and this time, she had fifty years to enact it. True, the sooner she had all of Rizkaland under her control, the better, but Amber’s plan meant less force and more persuasion, and persuasion was always better.

  As she walked, she also had time to notice the state of the field. True, it was autumn, but Rizkan wheat wasn’t supposed to turn brown quite yet. They’d been suffering some hard years, it was obvious. Well, Amber did concede to herself that she had been meddling with the winds that Joseph and Violet had instated to govern the seasons, but that was one of those small details that the people wouldn’t have to know.

  At last, she came to the men working this farm, a father and his two sons, she guessed, of human stock. They’d suit her purposes just fine.

  “Oh, good gentlemen!” she cried, filling her voice with pathos. “I’m so glad to have found you. Do these fields never end?”

  The father straightened and regarded Amber critically. “Well,” he replied, after several long moments, “I reckon I can say that there are days I wonder the same, though, with this drought, they aren’t nearly enough. Who may you be, miss? It isn’t often we see strangers around here, especially not ones dressed as fine as you.”

  “Nor as pretty,” one of the sons commented.

  Amber gave the boy an imperious glance. “I am married.” She’d already noticed the way they’d been staring at her while trying to look like they weren’t. She turned her attention back to the father. “I have traveled rather far from home, I fear,” she admitted. “The plant life where I come from doesn’t have nearly as many colors, and the rim of this world curls away from me strangely.”

  It took the man several seconds to process Amber’s speech. At length, he asked, “Did the Doorkeeper bring you to us?”

  This question took Amber by surprise, and for a moment, she was rendered speechless as her conversation with Laura echoed through her head. She quickly recovered herself, however, and shook her head. “No, I cannot say that she did.”

  And it was true, Amber admitted bitterly to herself. For all the travels she made and grand stories she produced, Laura had never taken Amber anywhere. Amber had been forced to make her own escape both times her world fell.

  “Well, perhaps she did, and you just didn’t see her. I hear that she can be mighty sneaky at times.” The man shook his head. “But from the looks of your dress and jewels, I’m willing to say you are someone mighty important where you come from. A princess, maybe?”

  “Queen.” Amber drew herself to her full stature.

  “I see.” The man nodded. “Well, after our last few hard winters and scorching summers, we scarcely have enough to call a fitting meal for us common folk, much less royalty, but you’re welcome to come stay at least the night with us before we send you to Loray to meet our own kings and queens. You said you were married, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, “I am.”

  “So, your husband?”

  “Accompanied me, but he lacks my ambition.”

  “I see,” said the man. “Well, come along then, my dear – I mean, your highness. I don’t think I quite caught your name.”

  “I don’t think I gave it to you,” she replied.

  The man didn’t press the issue as he instructed his sons to keep on with the harvest. He himself escorted Amber to his house where his wife and daughter were busying themselves about the kitchen, scraping together a meager meal.

  “Ah, good mother,” the man announced, stopping at the doo
rway, “Mels, girl, we’ve company tonight.”

  “Company, father?” asked the young girl, frowning. “But…”

  “Alphego commands us to never turn away the stranger, and blessings will come to us if we share what we have,” said the mother, giving her daughter a reproving glance.

  “Aye, and this young girl is strange indeed,” said the father. “She comes from another world entirely, and is a queen besides.”

  “A queen?” the girl breathed, glancing behind her father to ogle at Amber.

  “Indeed, I am,” said Amber, stepping forward. “But I understand the toll that hard times can take on peasants, especially when it’s combined with taxes. I expect very little, perhaps a bit of nourishment and a place to lay my head for the night.”

  “She’s quite a simple soul, for all of her pretty jewels,” said the father, shaking his head. “Those uppity-ups at Loray would do well to learn from her.” He nodded to his wife. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. I need to get back to the boys if we’re to have a thing to eat this winter.”

  Amber stepped into the kitchen as he retreated. She stood for several minutes watching the mother and daughter, as if indecisive. Secretly, she regarded with pleasure the glances the pair sneaked at her every few minutes. All peasantry found royalty fascinating.

  “May I help?” Amber asked at length.

  Both mother and daughter turned to Amber with startled surprise.

  “But your highness!” the mother breathed. “You’re a queen!”

  “Should that prevent me from doing honest work?” Amber shook her head. “Where I come from, rulers are expected to get their own meals the same as peasants, and to share when they are able. I just ask that you clear the table.”

  “Now?” asked the girl.

  “Now is as good a time as any,” Amber answered.

  The mother nodded for the daughter to do as Amber bid, and within moments, the long table was bare – for there had been little on it to begin with.

  Amber smiled. “Thank you – Mels, wasn’t it?”

  The girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Short for Melody.”

  “Ah, Melody. That is a lovely name for certain. It has a certain music to it as it rolls off of the tongue.”

  Amber drew a long bit of dark blue cloth out of her pocket and unfolded it until it was large enough to cover the table. Winking at the girl, she clapped her hands and muttered a word under her breath. The silver embroidery swirled around a moment, and then all sorts of exquisite meats, pastries, soups, and salads appeared. When Amber felt there was quite enough, she clapped her hands again.

  She waved her hand over the spread. “This is how royalty eat where I come from.”

  “Oh! Oh my!” the girl breathed.

  “Well I never,” muttered the mother. She turned to her daughter. “Quick, girl, run and tell your father and brothers that their supper is ready.”

  The girl tore her eyes away and took off out the door. The woman herself seemed unable to look away from the feast.

  “It won’t disappear if that’s what you’re afraid of,” commented Amber, sitting down at the table. “Indeed, what we don’t eat tonight, you can keep for yourselves, and it will last far longer than ordinary food.”

  “Are – are you sure, your highness?” asked the woman.

  “Oh, I’m quite sure,” said Amber, smiling. “I’ve no need of the food, as I have the tablecloth.” Indeed, she had two more such tablecloths back home, as well as an actual table with the same magic.

  “Is – is it natural food?” asked the daughter.

  “I’ve eaten such food my whole life, and have never suffered.” To demonstrate, Amber plucked up a small cream tart and bit into it.

  The rest of the family quickly arrived, and Amber had to give more assurance of the food’s safety and how it was, indeed, theirs to keep, so long as they returned the tablecloth to her. “I do not like to see people suffering from hunger,” she said, with a shake of her head. “And if I have plenty to share, then share I shall!”

  “We are most grateful to you,” said the father, shaking his head. “After these last few years, with scorching summers that produce less food than we need, followed by winters that last longer than they ought, we’d begun to give up hope.”

  “One should never give up hope,” said Amber, with a shake of her head. “I’m glad I came when I did.”

  “As are we,” agreed the father. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You could teach those uppity-ups at Loray a thing or two when you go there.”

  Amber shook her head. “I do not think I shall travel to Loray, not yet at least.”

  “Whyever not?” asked one of the sons. “Whenever anyone comes here from another world, it means that great times are upon us, and we must send you to the Bookholder so that he can consult the Book about you.”

  “No, I don’t believe I should go to your Bookholder just yet. If he needs to know about me, no doubt he shall read about me in that Book you mentioned. However, just now I feel called to go about you lesser folk and do what good I can, inspire hope among you.” Amber glanced wistfully around the room. “I have long desired simplicity, and this world seems to offer it to me.”

  There was a short silence. The people seemed uncomfortable with Amber’s declaration, so she decided to shift the subject.

  “It is a terrible thing to be so plagued by both winter and summer,” she said. “If only one is terrible, the other can make up for it, but both together? I heard a rumor that your seasons were directed by your kings and queens.”

  “They were set in place by King Joseph and Queen Violet,” said the mother. “But it’s been over two thousand years since their time.”

  “Then I fear the magic may be decaying, turning the winds against you,” said Amber, shaking her head. “Quite frankly, I have never seen the use for winter myself – far too cold and nothing grows. I certainly can’t understand why they included it.”

  “They did, though, and we have to live with it.” The father shook his head. “Though you have to admit, snow can be pretty.”

  “Perhaps…” said Amber, then let the word hang a moment, to build the people’s anticipation. “Well, queens, where I come from, possess a certain amount of magic, such as this tablecloth. It is possible that I could meddle a bit, perhaps make things better?”

  Silence again, but the man spoke quickly enough, “Well, as much as I don’t like the sound of meddling, I can say that if you can tone down our summers a touch, and shorten the winter, we’d be grateful indeed.”

  “I shall see what I can do,” promised Amber, solemnly. “Perhaps I should even banish winter entirely. It may be pretty, but pretty does not always mean best.”

  She spent the night with the family, and then provided them with breakfast the next morning. They tried to convince her to stay longer, and it was sorely tempting, but she shook her head as she folded the tablecloth to slide back into her pocket.

  “I cannot spread hope and cheer to Rizkaland if I stay here,” she explained. “No, I’m afraid my journey carries me onward to greater, grander business, but such is the life of a queen. Perhaps I shall return again, perhaps soon, even.”

  “We’d be honored to have you again,” said the mother. And then, before Amber could protest, she found herself caught into a tight hug. She almost protested – how many years had it been since any but Granite had taken such liberties with her? – but if it made the woman trust her, well, so be it. She could suffer a few hugs if it played out for the best in the grand scheme of things.

  “I would be honored to stay here,” she answered, as soon as the woman released her.

  As Amber turned to go, the young daughter suddenly shot forward and grabbed at her sleeve. Amber turned back.

  “What is it, my dear Melody?” she asked.

  The girl drew back, shaking her head. “Oh, forgive me if I’m rude, but you never did tell us your name, your highness.”

  Amber stood still a mome
nt, considering the wisdom of her next words. At last, she nodded. “I suppose you have a right to know who it was you hosted. My name,” she paused for dramatics, “is Amber.”

  She watched them draw back, their faces taking on the expression of wondering horror. She shook her head. “Yes, indeed, I am the selfsame Amber that you hear about in the legends. I hesitated to tell you last night, for I feared how you would react, and now I see that I am right.”

  “You’re – you’re the Dragon?” the young girl breathed.

  “That is what you Rizkans call me, yes,” said Amber, sighing. “I suppose I earned the title, for I do possess the power to turn myself into one, and I will admit that I, perhaps, haven’t always used my powers for the best. I was filled with bitterness for how I was treated at the hands of the Ten when they stole the Isle of Klarand from me, and I sought to retaliate when I was given the chance. But I bear nothing but good will towards Rizkaland itself – I told you naught but the truth last night. I will do everything in my power to bring peace and hope back to Rizkaland.”

  “So…” said the girl.

  “I understand that it will take time for me to dissolve the foul stories surrounding me – but, you know, history has always been painted by the winner, and in Rizkaland, I have had the misfortune of being the loser so many times.”

  The man eyed her up and down and harrumphed. “I’ve a feeling that I ought to turn you in to the people at Loray, but after you helped us last night, and the pretty speeches you gave, I think we might ought to give you another chance. Carry on, Amber, and may Alphego guide you.”

  “Thank you, sir. You haven’t an idea how much that means to me.” Amber smiled brightly, then turned to the girl. “I brought my castle with me this time, it’s about two miles ea from here. You won’t be able to find it right now, for magic hides it from all sight but my own whenever I leave it. However, if you come there in, say, about two weeks’ time, I shall have probably returned, and I should find some job for you, miss.”