by Laura Harris
His eyes lingered on the King’s Circus. He had been just two at the time. Their mother had feared the worst, hearing of the upcoming final battle. Having never been a woman to stay at home and wait for news, she had packed up their family and travelled to join the King’s Circus to find her husband. It had always been an irritation that he had been so close to history being made and could not remember a thing of it.
The tapestries had been noticed by others too and Lord Huwcyn eagerly turned the conversation to his role in the war. As his father launched into the tale of how he had killed the dragon whose skull was now speared on his gates, Corran straightened his high collar and let the talk flow over him. He had heard the story many times and had no particular desire to hear its embellished retelling for the benefit of their guests. It would be repeated several times over the next two weeks.
“So what about these dragon sympathisers?” someone called from the end of the table. “I heard they’ve been around this area. Never thought they’d come so far south!”
“Such people are no better than the monsters themselves,” Lord Huwcyn growled at the same time as Corran perked up. Dragon sympathisers?
Arwel shook his head minutely and Corran felt a moment of disdain for the man who would admire his father’s riches but did not want to admit where they came from. Like so many others, he thought of the Dragon War as something to be regretted. Corran bet the gold miners didn’t feel the same.
“They’re simply misguided,” Glyn said. “They don’t know their history. They romanticise the creatures and remember those who used to ride them – after all, who wouldn’t want to fly?”
“I’ll keep my feet happily on the ground,” Lord Huwcyn rebuked.
Glyn looked suitably chastened, but several of the guests stared down at the table or around the room rather than at Lord Huwcyn. Corran wished he could yell at all of them to leave if they didn’t like it. They would not make any Dunslade ashamed of their role in history!
“We never had such barbarism in the south, we defended our land ourselves before the Wall was built!” his father continued. “Made us stronger than those mountain folk, no wonder they needed our help when the dragons turned! Battle of Orvale Mine, I had a dragon grab my arm and sweep me off my feet–”
Corran slumped back again as a new story started, but his mind had awakened. Who would bother sympathising with dragons now? When the Dragon War had taken place some humans had fought on their side. He had always assumed they had been forced into it by dragons who would burn their villages if they didn’t help. There couldn’t be that threat now. And even if there were dragon sympathisers, why were they here in Dunslade Town? What could they hope to achieve?
The minutes ticked by. Corran longed to ask Glyn about it, but knew better than to try when his father had so obviously changed the subject. The talk turned away from dragons and onto the upcoming tournament, with discussions of who might turn up. Corran knew he would be targeted as the youngest son of Lord Huwcyn; a supposedly easy win, but with the status of a dragonslayer’s son. He knew he should be as excited for this tournament as the others, but with the extra pressure of fighting with his left hand and knowing his family would be watching his every move, he couldn’t help dreading it. At least with so many people around it would be harder for Huw to taunt him.
Finally the dinner ended and Arwel bade them farewell at the doorway to the hall. Corran walked side by side with Glyn up the stairs to the family wing of the house. As they walked through the corridor of portraits, Corran stared ahead so he didn’t have to look at the paintings involving himself. Thankfully there weren’t too many, but he hated how he was the shortest – even shorter than his mother. They turned out of the portrait corridor and Corran asked the question that had been bugging him all night.
“Dragon sympathisers?”
Glyn laughed and shoved him with one hand. “Don’t get ideas in your head, Corran. Father’s up in arms about it but what are they gonna do? Try and make people feel bad about killing the dragons? Firesouls.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Ridiculous name for ridiculous people.”
“Where did they come from?”
He was certain that this was what Huw had been summoned about earlier and he refused to be left out just because he was the youngest. He was an adult now! He should have been invited!
“Mountains, probably. I don’t know, no one seems to know much about them. It’s just rumours.”
“Well what did father say about it?”
“He just told us to keep an eye out and make sure no one got any funny ideas about dragons, especially with all the northerners around. It’s absurd that people are still going on about this.”
Corran nodded in distracted disagreement. Would these dragon sympathisers – ‘Firesouls’ – dare come to Dunslade Town, home of a dragonslayer? Well if they did, he would be ready. Never mind surviving the tournament – if he could hunt down a Firesoul and find out what they wanted, no one could say he was not worthy of his sword. He would prove himself so not even Huw could doubt his worth. What better way than to bring down the Firesouls?
CHAPTER 3
The gold was trickier to get to next time, but at least the smell was sweeter. Priests weren’t known for letting their temples go to waste.
It had been far too easy to sneak inside – one look at her, and they had welcomed her in and directed her towards the huddling group of temple initiates. She had even got a good, hot meal out of it that now filled her stomach, and they’d insisted she take a bath. So far, no one had recognised her from her previous stays in the temple. She had only been there twice, but on both occasions they had thrown her out after she’d spoken to Voice out loud in front of them one too many times. There was talk of her somehow being tainted. Apparently talking to a voice in your head was incompatible with being a servant of either Lua or Soan.
Now, she had tucked herself inside a doorway. She had given the other initiates and the priest in charge of them the slip without even trying and now waited for the sun to set. She had been warned the gold would not be in place until it was dark, but it was far easier to enter earlier in the day than at night when everyone was challenged. Getting out could be interesting, but she’d think about that when she got there.
/Don’t worry, I saw a few ways out while you wolfed down that porridge./
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it too,” she whispered back.
She felt him shrug, avoiding any firm answer, and grinned – then pressed herself closer to the door when she heard a noise to her right. A priestess passed by without even glancing in her direction.
The smuggler dropping the gold off this time must be a priest to be hiding it here. The thought amused Giselle no end considering how holier–than–thou the priests were normally. She couldn’t say she’d missed any of the people when she’d been thrown out of here; just the food and shelter.
/It is a good place to live./
“But the people…”
/The people ruin it,/ he agreed.
“Are you okay about tonight?” she asked, slipping out from the doorway and continuing up the stairs. She hadn’t forgotten his words about the woman last week.
/Yes, I will be fine. We will get good money for this./
“I’ll try and be as quick as I can,” Giselle said, not quite believing his words. She paused at a window and looked out to see the sun had disappeared behind the blocky horizon of the city, sending ripples of orange across the sky. The time had come to stop loitering and find her destination. She turned on one foot and headed in the opposite direction. She passed a priest who called after her to ask if she was lost, but she jogged around the corner to disappear from his sight. The phrase ‘out of sight out of mind’ had been proven true to her so many times over the years.
She approached the main hall and halted at the sight of a long line of priests trailing in. Sunset – that meant time for prayers. She cursed simultaneously with Voice, ignoring the shocked glare sent her way
by a priestess, and slunk back into a corner. Evening prayers went on for two hours and she was in no mood to wait that long.
/The initiates, over there!/
She hurried over to rejoin the group. A few of them glanced askance at her and she received a definite frown from the priest, but no one said a word against her following them into the main hall. The priests milled about and she disappeared into the crowd without trouble. Maybe this was why the gold was hidden in a temple – it was so easy to move around without anyone challenging you, and no one would ever suspect smuggling.
She veered towards the wall. She couldn’t get too close to the front – there the most devoted stood in perfect lines with hands clasped behind their backs – but she didn’t need to. She paused next to a huge pot plant that stood about halfway down the left side of the room. Just the clay pot reached up to her elbow and the tree inside stretched to twice her height, strange purple flowers blooming all over it.
/Definitely a better smell than last time./
She wished she could reply, but here she had to be careful. Any extra attention could give her away. She pushed a hand into the soil and began to delve, trying to look like she just leaned on it for support. It would not be buried too deep so when she did not find it straight away she left that pot, brushing off a bit of the dirt, and moved to the next one. All around her conversations buzzed and she was astonished that so far no one had noticed what she was up to. Perhaps being impatient and not waiting until after prayers hadn’t been such a bad idea.
At the third pot, she found it. A heavy canvas bag identical to the one from last week had been planted right next to the stem of the plant. She tugged at it until it came through and pushed it straight into a pocket, then returned her hand to the pot to try and brush the earth back into place.
“Girl, what are you doing? That is a fifty year old Apila Tree from Cadoras!”
She spun to face the approaching priest and her stomach plummeted. His long nose and pale blue eyes were horribly familiar and she could see the recognition appear in his expression.
“You!”
She ran. Her arms reached out to push through the throng of priests and priestesses towards the door, but her hasty exit had caused a commotion and everyone tried to see what was happening.
“You need to stay with the group!” the priest in charge of the initiates called when he spotted her, but she shoved straight past him and the others who stared with wide eyes. Someone grabbed her arm and she pulled herself in the opposite direction before they could get a decent hold.
/The door’s to your left!/
Voice’s warning came just in time for her to veer to the left rather than continue running towards a wall. It was easier here; the priests were more scattered, and though they knew something was going on they were unaware of the chase – at least not until after she had sprinted past. She barrelled through the group of priests and priestesses lingering in the doorway, hearing Voice’s laughter as one of them squawked in indignation.
She slammed straight into someone and bounced off, toppling backwards. The city guard looked as surprised as her. Giselle jumped to the side and tried to dart past, but he’d caught on and leapt after her, one hand seizing the back of her dress as she reached the stone steps that led down from the temple. For a second the pair hovered together, leaning back and forth between the temple and the street below. Then, with a shout from all involved – Voice included – they toppled downwards.
Giselle curled herself up as small as she could, wincing at every bang and bruise from the unforgiving steps and the occasional extra knock from the guard falling down beside her. She rolled and he rolled and they hit something else but went through it to continue down, right to the cobbled street below. It made the landing even worse, and she groaned as they drew to a stop. Hearing similar noises from the guard she stumbled to her feet, swaying a little and squinting around. People were staring at her, no one quite sure how to react. She took an uncertain step, her head spinning, and pushed a hand into one pocket to check the gold was safe. But it wasn’t. The gold was gone.
Far more alert than she had been a few moments ago, she spun around and tried to locate it. That gold was more than her life was worth – if she lost it, she was dead. There was no question about that. She could feel Voice hunting with her eyes as well, but the guard staggered up and priests had appeared at the top of the temple steps.
There – halfway up the steps, a merchant boy was bending to pick up a bag of something. She rushed at him and he didn’t see her coming until she had already barrelled into him, punching with one hand and grasping for the gold in the other. He released it straight away, moaning in pain, and she dived back down the steps. Her body still ached from the beating it had received but now the adrenaline pumped through her. Her watcher would be near to check she wasn’t messing up the job and there was no doubt at this point that she had messed up. Having been spotted rooting through the dirt of those plant pots, the smugglers would never be able to use them as a hiding place again.
She left the scene so fast she could only hear the shouts for a few seconds before they faded away. She sprinted through the streets, this time not worrying about keeping to the alleyways. Her heart pounded like a drum and a layer of sweat stuck to her skin.
/Giselle… they’re not following,/ Voice said, allowing her to stumble to a gasping halt. She half–collapsed against the nearest wall, pressing her head on the bricks and trying not to vomit. It took some time for her breathing to slow and she forced her legs to take her into a side street where no one was watching. The adrenaline had faded to be replaced with a horrible shakiness.
/Breathe slowly,/ Voice suggested helplessly. She could feel that he wanted to aid in some way, but her body did not get enough sustenance to go through a chase like that and not come out battered and exhausted the other end. But the night was not over yet.
She reached inside her pocket to retrieve the bag and for the first time looked inside to check the gold. It was there, just the same as the last one. She secured it again and pushed herself off the wall as soon as her breathing was steady enough, starting back in the direction of the inn.
She thanked the stars that her sprint had at least taken her in the right direction, leaving her with not too far to walk. The sun’s light had long faded but with it still being early evening, lamps shone outside certain alehouses and eateries to allow their patrons to extend their days. When she reached the inn she found the back entrance was just as deserted as before. With aching arms she climbed the wall and pretended her body wasn’t groaning at the extended exertion. She knocked clumsily at the shutters. The moment they opened she pushed herself over the edge to roll inside.
The woman stared down at her where she sat on the floor. Giselle reached into her pocket and offered the bag to her. She took it, but didn’t open it. Instead she turned around and walked towards the table, poured a mug of water, then returned and passed it to Giselle. For a second she stared, not sure what to make of it, but the next moment she had grabbed it and slurped it down. It wasn’t often she got free things offered to her and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d drank water that wasn’t straight from a muddy stream. The woman continued to watch as she drank and she felt Voice attempt to make himself as small as possible inside her. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but she didn’t comment. Let him do what he needed to do.
“What happened?”
Giselle glanced up at the woman, surprised she was still there and that the bag in her hand remained unopened.
“Just had a bit of trouble getting that,” she replied, nodding at the bag. “Don’t worry, though. It’s all there. Not damaged.” She hoped that was true, but gold was sturdy stuff – she was sure it would be fine.
The woman still looked uncertain and Giselle wondered just how bad she looked. At least now she did lift the bag and peer inside. She took it over to the scales on her table, but didn’t seem as preoccupied by it as she had last week – instead
she kept glancing over her shoulder to look at Giselle. She wondered if perhaps she should get to her feet so she didn’t look too pathetic, but it was nice sitting down. She’d have to be climbing out of here far too soon.
/Better to rest while you can./
“Yep,” Giselle agreed, not thinking.
The woman whipped around to stare at them. Voice flinched away to cower inside, and Giselle maintained as innocent an expression as possible.
“Something wrong with it?”
The woman frowned and turned back to the table – but this time when she glanced around her gaze was even more intent. Voice shrivelled up and Giselle wished she could offer him some comfort. She’d never felt him react like this to anything before, and it made her nervous as well. She pulled herself to her feet, still leaning on the wall to support herself.
“If that’s all fine I should be going,” she said, turning to the window without waiting for a response.
“Wait! Don’t go yet. I want to talk to you.”
The worry grew, and she turned back with a sigh.
“You should talk to Jox. I’m just the deliverer.”
“Not about the gold.”
Giselle’s nerves hiked up tenfold and she spun around to start out of the window. “Sorry lady!”
“You have a dragon in you!”
She froze, one leg half–lifted on the way to leaving the room. Voice was just as still.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s probably a shock. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that–”
“Why would it be a shock? And how do you know that?” Giselle demanded, turning so her back wasn’t to this woman who suddenly posed more of a risk than she had ever imagined. Her nervousness had not prepared her for this. No one knew about Voice. People heard her speak to herself, but she was always so careful to never mention anything to do with dragons when they were around.