Dragonfire

by Charles Jackson

  “What are we supposed to do now?”

  “Run, girl… run…!” He hissed in her ear, once again taking her hand and dragging her south along the edge of the treeline, skirting the fields and moving in a completely different direction to that of the fleeing horses.

  Perhaps another hundred metres or so along, he ducked behind a thick clump of low bushes and pulled her down with him, cautiously peering out from one side to watch as their pursuers also reached the edge of the trees, torches still in hand, and their own mounts began to mill about in the almost impenetrable darkness.

  There was a faint twinkle of blue among the trees then, followed instantly by a coiling snake of light that lashed upward into the sky, struck the clouds overhead and blazed in their midst for a few seconds, the glow expanding outward on all sides for many kilometres and illuminating the ground below.

  “Hag…” Nev breathed bitterly, thinking she knew exactly who was behind that little display.

  “Aye, another one indeed…” Godfrey agreed in a whisper. “I’ve often seen her come and go these last months, but this was only the second time she ever brought anyone back with her. If you’ve some majik o’ your own to spare for that filth, I’d not complain of y’ usin’ it right now…”

  “I am not a witch!” She hissed angrily, frustrated and feeling increasingly insulted over the insinuation.

  A cry of alert from their pursuers cut off any reply he might’ve given as one of them caught sight of the horses Godfrey had set free, now a good distance away across the fields but still visible in the fading afterglow of that bolt into the clouds. Without hesitation, every one of them – no less than five horsemen that Nev could see – set off a full speed, the rumble of their hooves faintly audible through rain that finally seemed to be easing a little.

  “You knew they’d follow the horses!” Nev exclaimed with mild surprise.

  “Got to thinkin’ about it a while back,” he replied, more than a little proud that his idea had actually worked. “Been training ‘em for a month now for just this occasion. Stole ‘em from the local lord’s stable fair ‘n square and all, and I reckon they’ll find their way back well enough: horses have a knack for that kind ‘o thing.” He gave a low chuckle as another thought occurred to him. “That swine won’t be too happy to see ‘em though… not with a handful o’ the Blackwatch hard on their tails. They’re just as like to string him up on the spot if they even think he’s hidden you somewhere.”

  “You mean they’ll kill him…?” Nev asked, horrified at the thought.

  “”Oh, not straight away… not if I know the Blackwatch. They’ll want to have some fun first…”

  “But… but, that’s horrible!” She declared, completely aghast. “How could you do that?”

  “Easy…” Godfrey replied with barely a shrug. “There’s more than a few kids disappeared ‘round this area the last few years and almost all of’ em were servants up at Lord Berwick’s manor house. Lot ‘o folks here know he’s involved in it, but no one can touch him ‘cause he’s tight with Harald’s cousin…” He gave a toothy grin in the weird, turquoise afterglow still haunting the clouds above. “Be doin’ everyone a favour if they stretched his neck…”

  “Harald...? Who’s Harald…?”

  “‘Who’s Harald?’… Black Harald....?” He repeated, as if hearing the most ridiculous question ever asked. “Do they teach you nothin’ in ‘witch school’ or wherever it is you lot go to?”

  “For the last… time…” Neve began through clenched teeth, but she was given no chance to complete the sentence.

  “Come on then,” he interrupted cheerfully, cutting her off. “No point hanging about. We’ve not far to go but we’ll catch a death if we don’t change out o’ these wet clothes and get in front of a warm fire. Try and keep up…”

  And with that he was off and running again, continuing his path along the edge of the treeline where shadows and the overall darkness of the background bush would best mask his progress from any onlooker. With an indignant grunt of frustration, Nev sprung to her feet and jogged off after him, thinking carefully about all the unpleasant things she was certain to say to him the moment (The very moment…!) they were somewhere safe and sheltered from the elements.

  The rain had all but ceased by the time they finally left the cover of the trees and turned eastward again, striking out across the open fields well south of where they’d last seen their pursuers. With the storm beginning to ease, it was now possible to hear the crashing of the surf close by, that realisation only creating more confusion in Nev’s as it meant that the ocean was still pretty much exactly where it should’ve been, leaving her even less able to explain what had happened to the rest of the world she’d known.

  A farmhouse appeared out of the darkness as she followed on a few paces behind Godfrey, and beyond that stood a tall barn of thick, rough-cut timbers covered by thick panels of thatched straw to keep out the rain. There was no activity outside that she could see, nor any lights on in the house, but as they drew closer she could at least see a faint glow around the edges of the barn’s closed main doors. The flickering of that light and the lazy tail of smoke curling from a plain opening in the centre of the roof suggested a fire might well be burning within.

  “Lester…!” Godfrey called softly with a grin, rapping once on the door with his knuckles as he placed his ear upon the wood. “Are y’ awake, y’ festerin’ little maggot?”

  “Awake enough to do for the likes o’ you…” came a soft, surprisingly high-pitched voice from the darkness to their left, and as they whirled to face the sound, a young boy of no more than eleven or twelve stepped out of the darkness, holding a crossbow that was clearly far too large for his physique. “Heard you comin’ a mile off…”

  “Cheeky sod…!” Godfrey chuckled, patting the lad on the shoulder as they came together. “I told you not to leave that fire unattended: you set this barn alight again and McTavish will sell us over to the Blackwatch himself!”

  “This the witch then, is it…?” Lester asked bluntly, giving Nev a serious, ‘up-and-down’ with his eyes and displaying an unpleasantly interested expression she’d never have expected from a pre-teen. “A pretty one, too…” he added, not helping matters at all “…after a good bath, maybe…”

  “I am right here, y’ know…!” Nev growled darkly, taking a threatening step toward the boy and lifting her bokken slightly in one hand without even thinking about it.

  “Easy there, deadeye…” Godfrey warned with another chuckle, reaching out and forcing down the crossbow Lester had raised in response to Nev’s advance. “Our contract’s not for a dead harpy, or one with too many holes in her.”

  “Look, if the whole night’s just going to be spent insulting me,” Nev exclaimed, giving up on continually denying the whole ‘witch’ thing as a lost cause, “can we at least do it inside where we’re safe from pneumonia?”

  “Who’s this ‘New Moanier’ then?” Lester squeaked aggressively, the crossbow up and ready again as he whirled about, prepared for attack from any quarter. “They dangerous…?”

  “I think she means a fever, genius…” Godfrey explained, laughing out loud as he pushed the boy heavily toward the doors in a manner few were likely to get away with. “And witch or no…” he added, tilting his head in her direction and at least finally giving a little ground on the subject, “…she’s right: we’ll catch our death out here and no mistake.” He’d not recognised the word Nev had used, but the way she’s said it and the inflection in her tone made it clear she was more likely to be concerned about illness than an attacker with a strange name.

  The interior of the barn, musty and smelly and vaguely filthy as it was, was nevertheless pure heaven compared to the freezing darkness outside. Her body had been too busy expending energy and generating excess heat while they’d been running to really feel the cold, however the human cooling systems that worked so well when overheating had now become a liability and the perspiration that ha
d soaked into her pits and down the centre of her back and chest had quickly begun to chill as they’d stood outside, the cool breezes of the night wafting about them.

  Enclosed in a double-stacked ring of blackened stones and broken bricks, the fire inside was simply wonderful. Standing up close enough to feel uncomfortable in its radiated heat, she was at least able to dry her soaked legs and back a little, steam rising faintly from the material. Her clothing, although amazingly intact considering what she’d experienced, was nevertheless soaked through, and her duffel bag wasn’t much better despite being nominally water-resistant. She placed it by her feet, set back a little to ensure nothing inside got too hot, and took a moment to look over the two strangers who’d undoubtedly saved her from an unpleasant fate… for the time being, at least.

  Godfrey was tall, broad-shouldered, and probably would’ve been quite handsome had his face ever seen a decent shave… or a recent wash for that matter. His tragic attempt at facial hear wasn’t a complete failure – it was about as uneven and patchy as the attempted beards of most men in their late teens or early twenties – and it certainly wouldn’t be held against him. His hair – longish and gathered in a thick pony tail at the nape of this neck – was strawberry blond and a little fairer than she’d have liked, but (as she quickly reminded herself) that was hardly her business anyway, having barely met him.

  Lester, on the other hand, was short, thin as a rake and almost ferret-like, with an unruly mop of beet-red hair and unfortunate patches of similarly-coloured acne scattered across his face in haphazard patterns. He looked completely awkward, but as she watched him more closely she soon noted that he actually moved with a fluid, rather cat-like gait that looked completely out of odds with an appearance that seemed to be all arms and legs.

  A sudden shudder of cold rippled through her body then, and as Lester moved about the darker corners of the barn, scrabbling around behind stacked piles of hay and extremely ancient-looking tools and farming equipment, she was happy to turn back to the fire and spend a few silent moments taking in that glorious warmth just as Godfrey was already doing. Eventually, the boy returned with a three-legged milking stool in one hand and a battered wooden crate in the other.

  “There’s a seat for ya, Haggis…” he offered cheerily, knowing exactly what he was saying and drawing a narrow-eyed glare from Nev in return as he dropped the stool at her feet “…and I reckon a few splinters won’t hurt your bum, Westacre…” he added, tossing the crate over to Godfrey from the other side of the fire and again receiving a glare for his efforts as the heavy box bumped and clattered on the hard ground.

  “You can be a real arse sometimes, Lester…” he pointed out, only half-joking as the boy gave a mock salute in reply and plonked his butt down on the floor, his back against one of the pillars reaching up into the centre of the wooden ceiling.

  “Only ‘sometimes’…?” Lester replied with a smirk. “I must be growin’ up.” He nodded to himself, as if actually impressed. “Make me dad proud, I will…”

  “Finally worked out who he was then, have ya?” Godfrey asked innocently, suppressing a smirk of his own.

  “Down to two or three likely fellas now… made me a short list…” He grinned broadly. “Come to think of it, you could be me dad ‘n all!”

  “You wish…! You’d be a damned sight more handsome for a start, if I was…” Godfrey shot back, chuckling over his own joke.

  “I’ve gone mad…” Nev observed softly, staring at the pair in disbelief as she sagged tiredly onto the stool, automatically turning her legs to one side so as to maintain her modesty. “Completely insane…! This is like some great, practical joke… surely there are hidden cameras… there must be…! Who are you people…?”

  “Us…? Well… I’m Godfrey Westacre, ranger-scout of the Southern Ostermen, and this loudmouthed little git over here…”he added, pointing a vague finger “…is Lester Boniface, my apprentice and squire…”

  Godfrey’s answers were direct and completely honest and explained nothing whatsoever.

  “Why…” she paused for a moment, struggling with the enormity of it all as her adrenalin began to subside and her mind began to allow her body to relax. “Why have you brought me here?”

  “Independent contract… undisclosed client…”

  “Well, that clears up absolutely everything…” she muttered darkly, mostly to herself. “This is crazy! I must be imagining things. Maybe – maybe we are at Percy’s place and we’ve actually decided to smoke the ‘special herbs’ her parents think we don’t know about.” She nodded faintly, as if seriously considering it as an option. “Yes, that actually sounds nice compared to this. A few hours of mellowing out and eating munchies, then off for a nice nap and all better in the morning. That sounds just lovely.”

  “I think we’ve got a nutter here, Westy,” Lester observed, making an over-exaggerated show of tapping a finger against the side of his head as he dubiously watched Nev muttering to herself.

  “She’s a strange one all right,” Godfrey conceded with a grin, shaking his head also, “but it has been a long day, and who knows what goes on in the head of a witch…”

  It was at that point that a shiver of cold rippled through him, the wet clothes chilling Godfrey’s back, buttocks and calves even as the fire warmed his chest and thighs. Now that the thought of cold was at the forefront of his thinking, he noticed for the first time that Nev was also shaking faintly, and it was entirely possible that she hadn’t realised it yet either.

  “We’ve some spare duds you can use, if you want to change,” he offered with a nod toward a pair of piled rucksacks against a far wall. They’ll be a bit baggy, maybe, but I think they’ll do well enough until your proper clothes dry over the fire.

  “It can’t be… it just can’t… I – what…?” Nev stammered, caught mid-ramble and missing what he’d said. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said: we’ve got some spare clothes for y’ if you want to get changed,” Godfrey repeated, again indicating the backpacks across the room. “You can dry your gear by the fire while you sleep.”

  “I – uh – I’m not sure…” she began nervously, not at all comfortable with the idea of taking her clothes off within close proximity of two complete strangers, particularly male ones.

  “They’re fine clothes you’ve got,” he reasoned kindly, tilting his head to one side across the flickering flames and thinking he understood her reluctance well enough. “Not any kind ‘o fashion I’ve ever seen, it’s true, but it’s still clear enough they must’ve cost you some gold. Be a shame to spoil ‘em by leavin’ ‘em all soaked like that… not to mention you maybe catchin’ that ‘New Moanier’ into the bargain. If y’r worried about your honour with us around, there’s a stack o’ storm shutters standing up the back o’ the barn there y’ can change behind. You’ve me word we’ll not peek…”

  “Speak for yerself…!” Lester muttered with a sly grin.

  “Right, Toadface…! Upstairs and take watch! Off you go!” Godfrey snapped in exasperation as Nev, who’d clearly been intended to hear the remark, reacted exactly as expected and fixed Lester with another glare, gasping softly at the outright rudeness of the horrid little boy.

  “It were a joke!” Lester declared, acting as if it were he who were suddenly the victim. “Just a harmless joke…!”

  “Then you can spend the rest of the night workin’ on some new material, jester,” Godfrey replied drily, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve had all evening down here with the fire anyway: get your butt up into the loft now and keep an eye out. We’re probably safe, but I’d rather be sure about it.”

  “Y’ could ask nicely, at least,” Lester shot back grumpily, trying a guilt-trip now and failing miserably as he rose to his feet and stomped across to where he’d left his beloved crossbow propped against a wall.

  “Aye, please get upstairs and keep an eye out… before I boot your backside into next week!” Godfrey added with a smirk, the boy blowing a soft rasp
berry at him in return as he clambered up a short ladder and through a narrow hatchway leading to an upper level above the main, double doors. With the opening’s trap door closed, little light from the fire reached the loft, and Lester – wrapping himself in a thick blanket – was able to peer out across the roof of the farmhouse through a small, open window set into the wooden beams. From there he had a perfect view of the fields to the north, and a good angle on anyone who might think to sneak up on the barn’s only entrance.

  Rising from his crate, Godfrey stepped quickly across to the rucksacks he’d indicated earlier and fished around inside, pulling out a few random pieces of clothing that were all coloured in flat, earthy tans or greens. Turning, he approached Nev slowly and offered them to over as she rose nervously to her feet.

  “They’re Lester’s… but you’ve come at a good time,” he added quickly as she reached out for them. “I make him wash his gear at the turn of each season, and today’s the first day o’ spring.”

  She stared at him in horror, actually recoiling a little before she noticed the twinkle in his eye and that characteristic smirk again, and this time the sheer cheek of the man finally drew a soft snort of derision from her that she couldn’t completely stifle.

  “They are clean…” he assured, only honesty in his expression this time as he again offered the folded clothes. “I give me word.”

  “You are… the strangest person I have ever met!” She said softly, shaking her head as she reached out again to accept them, and then suddenly found herself unable to meet his gaze. She instead turned her head for a moment, actually worried she might be blushing for some reason.

  “Well, so far it’s been about even for both of us, then” Godfrey admitted with a more open smile now, “but we’re only young… there’s always a chance things’ll get much stranger.”