Tales of Ethshar (legends of ethshar)

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Then how... all right, then who’s this Illuré person? How did she draw this? I don’t know anybody named Illuré that I can recall.”

  “You’ve never met her. She’s my aunt, back home in Srigmor. She drew this because she’s the best artist of the people who saw your face in the oracle.”

  “What oracle?”

  “Kirna’s family oracle.”

  “Who’s Kirna?”

  “She’s one of the village elders. Her family got this sorcerer’s oracle during the Great War, and it was passed down ever since, and when the dragon came...”

  “What dragon? One of... I mean, what dragon?”

  “The dragon that’s captured my village.”

  The girl stared at Wuller for a moment, and then sighed. “I think you’d better start at the beginning,” she said, “and explain the whole thing.”

  Wuller nodded, and took a deep breath, and began.

  He described the dragon, how it had arrived one day without warning. He told her how it had killed Adar the Smith and given the village an ultimatum. He explained about the meeting in Kirna’s hut, and how the oracle had shattered after showing them her face.

  “...and they sent me to find you,” he said. “And here I am, and I thought I’d have to find some way to hire a magician to find you, only I don’t have any money, and then by sheer luck, here you are!”

  “No money?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Does anyone in your village have any money?”

  “Not any more,” he said, a trifle worried by this line of questioning.

  He considered what he might do if she proved reluctant to come to the aid of the village. Small as he was for his age, he was still slightly bigger and stronger than she was; if worst came to worst, perhaps he could kidnap her and carry her home by force.

  He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Will you help?” he asked.

  She looked down at the portrait she still held.

  “Well,” she admitted, “your oracle wasn’t completely silly. I do know something about dragons. My family — well, my father’s a dragon-hunter. That’s been the family business for a long, long time now. That’s why I come to this particular inn when I’m here, the Dragon’s Egg, because of the connection with dragons. I was here in the city selling the blood from my father’s latest kill to the local wizards; they use it in their spells. And some of my uncles will get rid of dragons when they cause trouble. But ordinarily...” She frowned. “Ordinarily, we don’t work for free. This dragon of yours doesn’t sound like one I’ve heard of before, so there’s no question of family responsibility — I mean, this isn’t one that we taught to talk, or anything. At least, I don’t think it is.”

  Wuller suggested desperately, “We could pay in sheep, or wool.”

  She waved that away. “How would I get sheep from Srigmor to Aldagmor? Even if they made the trip alive, I’d do better just buying them at home. Same for wool. We don’t raise as much in Aldagmor as you do up north, but we have enough.”

  “If you don’t come, though,” Wuller said, “my village will die. Even if the dragon doesn’t eat us, we’ll starve when the sheep are gone.”

  She drew a deep sigh. “I know,” she said. She looked around the room, as if hoping that someone else would suggest a solution, but nobody else was listening.

  “Well,” she said, “I suppose I’ll have to go.”

  Wuller couldn’t repress his smile; he beamed at her.

  “But I don’t like it,” she added.

  12

  When she realized that he was not merely poor but totally penniless she bought him dinner, and allowed him to stay the night in her room at the inn. Wuller slept on the floor, and she slept on the bed, and he dared not suggest otherwise, either by word or deed.

  For one thing, he had noticed that she carried a good long dagger in her belt, under the long vest she wore. The hilt was worn, which implied that it had seen much use and was not there simply for show.

  In the morning she bought them both breakfast, gave the innkeeper a message to be sent to her father when next someone was bound to Aldagmor, bundled up her belongings, and stood waiting impatiently by the door while Wuller finished his meal and got his own pack squared away.

  That done, the two of them marched side by side down the sloping streets toward the city gates. It had rained heavily during the night, and the cobbles were still damp and slippery, so that they had to move carefully.

  This was the first time Wuller had seen Sardiron of the Waters by daylight, and he was too busy marveling at the strange buildings of dark stone, the fountains everywhere, the broad expanse of the river and the falls sparkling in the morning sun, to pay much attention to his beautiful companion.

  Once they were out the gate, though, he found his gaze coming back to her often. She was very beautiful indeed. He had never seen another girl or woman to equal her.

  He guessed her to be a year or two older than his own sixteen winters. Her face was too perfect to be much older than that, he thought, but she had a poise and self-assurance that he had rarely seen in anyone, of any age.

  Although her beauty had been obvious, she had seemed less impressive, somehow, the night before; perhaps the dim light had been responsible. After all, as the saying had it, candlelight hides many flaws. Could it not equally well conceal perfection?

  By the time they were out of earshot of the falls, and the towers of the council castle were shrinking behind them, he worked up the nerve to speak to her again for the first time since they had left the inn.

  “You’re from Aldagmor?” he asked.

  Immediately, he silently cursed himself for such a banality. Where else could someone named Seldis of Aldagmor be from?

  She nodded.

  “Do you come here often, then?”

  She looked at him, startled. “Here?” she asked, waving at the muddy highway and the surrounding farms. “I’ve never been here in my life!”

  “I meant Sardiron,” he said.

  “Aldagmor’s part of Sardiron,” she replied. “Our baron’s vice-chairman of the Council, in fact.”

  “I meant the city, Sardiron of the Waters,” Wuller explained with a trace of desperation.

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s not here. We left the city hours ago.” This was a gross exaggeration, but Wuller did not correct her. “I come down to the city about twice a year — usually once in the spring and once in the fall. I’m the one they can best spare, since I’m female and not strong enough for most of the work around... at home, so I make the trip to sell blood and hide and scales and order any supplies we need.”

  “Lucky we were there at the same time, then,” Wuller said, smiling.

  “Lucky for you,” she said.

  Wuller’s smile vanished, and the conversation languished for a time.

  The clouds thickened, and by midday it was drizzling. They stopped at an inn for lunch, hoping it would clear while they ate. Seldis paid for them both.

  “This could be expensive,” she remarked.

  Wuller groped for something to say.

  “We’ll do our best to find a way to repay you,” he said at last.

  She waved it away. “Don’t worry about it; it was my decision to come.”

  Two hours later, when they were on the road again and the rain had worked itself up into a heavy spring downpour, she snapped at him, “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this!”

  He said nothing.

  13

  They stayed the first night at the Blue Swan, in the town of Keron-Vir, but this time Teneria the innkeeper’s daughter was much less cooperative. She took one look at Seldis, and despite the dripping hair and soaked clothing saw that this was a beauty she could not possibly match; she refused to talk to either of them after that.

  Seldis once again paid for meals and a small room, and once again she slept in the bed while Wuller slept on the floor.

  He lay awake for half an hour or so
, listening to the rain dripping from the eaves, before finally dozing off. He dared not even look at Seldis.

  The rain had stopped by the time they left the next morning, and by noon Seldis was once again willing to treat Wuller as a human being. After a few polite remarks, he asked, “So how will you get rid of the dragon?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll need to see what the situation is.”

  “But — ” he began.

  She held up a hand. “No, really,” she said, “I don’t know yet, and even if I did, I might not want to tell you. Trade secrets, you know — family secrets.”

  Wuller did not press the matter, but he worried about it. The oracle had said that Seldis could rid the village of the dragon, and Seldis herself seemed confident of her abilities, but still, he worried.

  He remembered Alasha’s words, about virgins sacrificing themselves, and shifted his pack uneasily. Would Seldis sacrifice herself to the dragon?

  The idea seemed silly at first thought — she hardly looked suicidal. On the other hand, she had agreed to make the journey in the first place, which certainly wasn’t a selfish decision. Just how altruistic was she?

  He stole a glance at her. She was striding along comfortably, watching a distant hawk circling on the wind — scarcely the image he would expect of someone who intended to fling herself into a dragon’s jaws for the good of others.

  He shook his head slightly. No, he told himself, that couldn’t be what she intended.

  A nagging thought still tugged at him, though — it might turn out to be what the oracle had intended.

  They stayed that night at the Burning Pine, in the village of Laskros, and as Wuller lay on the floor of their room, staring at the plank ceiling, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by taking Seldis to his village.

  Why should she risk going there?

  Why should he risk going back?

  Wouldn’t it be better for both of them if they forgot about the dragon and the village and went off somewhere — Aldagmor, perhaps — together? He would court her, as best he could with no money and no prospects and no family...

  No family. That was the sticking point. His family was waiting for him back home, relying on him. He couldn’t let them down without even trying. Here he had had the phenomenal good luck to find his quarry quickly, as if by magic, and now he was considering giving up?

  No, he had to go home, and to take Seldis with him, and then to help in whatever it took to dispose of the dragon.

  He looked at her, lying asleep on the bed, her skin pale as milk in the light of the two moons, and then he rolled over and forced himself to go to sleep.

  14

  “We won’t be staying in inns after this,” he told her the next morning. “We should leave the highway late today and go cross-country.”

  She turned to stare at him. “I thought you said it was another few days,” she said.

  “It is,” he replied.

  She glanced eastward, at the forests that now lined that side of the road.

  “If you headed east for two days, anywhere along this road, you’d wind up in the mountains,” she said. “Three days, and you’d be on bare stone, wouldn’t you?”

  “If you headed due east,” he agreed. “But I didn’t say that. We head north-northeast.”

  “For three or four days, you said?”

  He nodded.

  “Why not follow the road until we’re ready to turn east, then? We’ll be almost paralleling it!”

  “Because,” he said reluctantly, “I don’t know the way if we do that. I can only find my way home by following the trail of peeled branches I marked coming south.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  A few paces later she asked, “What were you planning to eat, if we’re leaving the road?”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted.

  Seldis stared at him with an unreadable expression. “What did you eat on the way down?” she inquired.

  “Squirrels, mostly,” he said.

  She sighed. “I think,” she said, “that we had best go back to the Burning Pine and buy some provisions. With more of my money, of course.”

  Shame-faced, he agreed, and they retraced their steps.

  When they reached Laskros Wuller pointed out a bakery and a smokeshop, so they did not in fact return to the Burning Pine for food. They did, however, buy three more blankets there. Wuller was proud of himself for thinking of that, and thought it partly compensated for his earlier foolishness.

  There were no other delays, but the shopping expedition was enough to force them to sleep by the roadside that night, without having left the highway. Wuller refused to travel after the light began to fade, for fear of missing his trail, so the two of them settled down a dozen yards from the road, built a fire, and ate a leisurely dinner of sweet rolls and smoked mutton.

  They chatted quietly about trivial matters — friends and family, favorite tales, and the like, never mentioning dragons or anything else unpleasant. When they were tired, they curled up in their separate blankets and went to sleep.

  The next day they proceeded slowly, watching for marks, and at mid-morning or slightly thereafter Wuller spotted a pine branch with the bark curled back on the top — the mark he had used.

  Standing under that branch he could see the next, and from that one the next.

  Retracing his steps from tree to tree, they left the road and headed cross-country, back toward his home village.

  They slept two more nights in the forest, but late the following afternoon Wuller recognized the landscape beyond any question, and a moment later Seldis spotted smoke from the village fires drifting above the trees.

  They waited, and crept into the village under cover of darkness, making their way silently to Wuller’s own home.

  When Wuller swung the door inward he heard his father bellow, “Who the hell is it at this hour?”

  He peered around the door and said, “It’s me, Wuller. I’m back.”

  Wulran was speechless. He stared silently as Wuller stepped inside, and as Wuller then gave Seldis a helping hand up the stoop.

  The two travelers dropped their packs to the floor. Wuller pointed out a chair to Seldis, who settled into it gratefully and then put her tired feet up on another.

  “You can sleep in Aunt Illuré’s room, I guess,” Wuller told her. He turned back to his father for confirmation, and was astonished to see old Wulran weeping silently, tears dripping down his beard on either side.

  15

  Wuller and Seldis arose late and spent the morning resting, soaking their tired feet and generally recovering from their journey. Meanwhile, Wuller’s family scurried about the village, passing the word of his return and his success in finding the girl the oracle had shown them. A council meeting was called for that evening to discuss the next step.

  Shortly after lunch, while Illuré was showing Seldis around the village, Wulran gestured for Wuller to come sit by him.

  The lad obeyed, a trife warily.

  “Wuller,” the old man whispered, “you know what Alasha thinks, don’t you?”

  “About what?” Wuller asked.

  “About this girl you brought back — about how she’s to rid us of the dragon.”

  Wuller thought he knew what his father meant, but he hesitated before saying anything.

  “She’s to be a sacrifice,” Wulran said. “That’s what Alasha thinks. We may have to feed her to the dragon.”

  Wuller’s thoughts were turbulent; he struggled to direct them enough to get words out, and failed.

  “It’s necessary,” Wulran said. “Give up one life, and a foreigner at that, so that we all can live.”

  “We don’t know that,” Wuller protested. “We don’t know if it’s necessary or not!”

  Wulran shrugged. “True,” he said, “we don’t know for sure, but can you think of any other way that fragile little thing could rid us of the dragon?”

&n
bsp; Wuller didn’t answer at first, because in truth, he could not. At last he managed, weakly, “She knows tricks, family secrets.”

  “She may know the ritual of sacrifice, I suppose,” Wulran said.

  Wuller could stand no more; he rose and marched off.

  Wulran watched him go, and was satisfied when he saw that his son was not immediately heading off in search of the Aldagmorite girl, to warn her of her fate.

  Wuller wanted to think before he did anything rash. He looked up at the mountaintop, where the dragon was sunning itself, and then around at the village, where his kin were all busily going about their everyday business. The sheep were out on the upslope meadows, and the smith’s forge was quiet, the fires banked, but villagers were hauling water, or stacking firewood, or sitting on benches carding wool. To the west of the smithy, the downwind side, a hardwood rick was being burnt down for charcoal.

  He pulled the rather battered charcoal portrait out of his sleeve and looked at it.

  Seldis’ face looked back at him.

  He rolled the picture up and stuffed it back in his sleeve. Then he looked around.

  Illuré and Seldis had been down to the stream, and were returning with buckets of water. Wuller thought about running over to them and snatching Seldis away, heading back south with her, away from the village — but he didn’t move. He stood and watched as she and Illuré brought their pails to the cistern and dumped them in.

  Seldis was not stupid enough to have come all this way just to die, he told himself. She surely knew what she was doing. She would have some way to kill the dragon, some magical trade secret her father had taught her.

  At least, he hoped so.

  16

  As the villagers gathered in Wulran’s main room, that worthy pulled his son aside and whispered, “We’ll listen to what the girl has to say, but then we may need to get her out of here for awhile. You understand. If that happens, you take her out and make sure she can’t overhear anything. Later on we’ll let you know where to bring her.”