by LeRoy Clary
How, when, why, or a hundred other questions needed answers we didn’t have. Hell, we didn’t know the questions, so how could we have the answers?
Elizabeth turned to look at Tater, who was still sleeping soundly. “Is he still under a spell?”
“No, he’s just sleeping,” I said.
Elizabeth said, “Tell me what is most important for me to know in a sentence or two.”
I turned to my sister. She shook her head, refusing to speak, so I plunged ahead, “She said Kendra is the Dragon Queen.”
“That’s an old, old story. What else?” Elizabeth sounded more impatient than angry.
My voice rose, as did I. “No matter how old the story is, that creature who was here said Kendra is going to raise a full-sized dragon to life. That seems to be the central issue with her.”
Elizabeth shrugged, and with a sly smile asked, “Kendra, what do you intend to do with your very own dragon?”
Even Kendra had to smile. The Blue Woman hadn’t actually said she would wake one, but help it break free of its bonds. Why that distinction was so important, I didn’t know, unless Kendra had plans to join with the dragon in a nefarious venture and escape from somewhere. I couldn’t get a mental picture of her wearing black leather, a raised sword in her hand, as she took on vile creatures to save the world while riding on the back of a dragon. No, Kendra was more likely to bake them a cake and discuss the matter until they saw things her way.
I said to Elizabeth, “Maybe you should tell us the old story. I’ve never heard it.”
“The short version is that not all dragons were killed a thousand years ago. Some are hibernating under spells cast by powerful rogue mages who draw on the dragon’s life-power so the mages will live longer and cast more powerful spells. They siphon the life forces off the dragon and use it on themselves and selected friends, a few friendly kings, and fellow mages.”
“They can do that because dragons live a long time,” I said, beginning to understand, if not believe.
“You don’t grow to the size of a mature dragon in a few years. I’ve heard that it takes at least fifty, and even then, they were still considered young,” Elizabeth retorted as if that somehow settled the matter.
Kendra nodded as the implications made themselves known to her. She mused, “What is the most valuable thing in the world? Some might say gold or jewels, others the ability to walk or bear children. A few want greater power. But to some who already have most of those, I can see why living a few hundred years is more valuable than any of those other things.”
Elizabeth said, “The story says it takes mages to keep the dragons alive while under spells, and rogue mages use their abilities to keep those people who are favored by them healthy. They live long and healthy lives.”
I snorted in disbelief. “Tell me what children’s book you read for this story, and I’ll take a peek at it when there is nothing to do.”
“No book,” she said sharply.
“Bedtime story?” I countered.
Hands on her hips, she took an aggressive step in my direction. “No, smart-ass. I’ll tell you when and where it came from. At about six years old, while playing a hiding game with my nurse-maid, I hid behind the curtains in the throne room. I knew better than to play there, but it was a good hiding place, where nobody would look. A royal mage and my father, the king, entered. It scared me to expose myself and get into trouble, so I stood still and listened as the mage told the story. The questions my father asked went on and on, but it was told as fact.”
“You’re saying you believe it?” I almost stammered in disbelief.
She leaned in closer. “And my father believed it. He still does.”
Not to be put aside, I leaned closer to her too, until our noses almost touched. “Are you seriously telling me that you think my sister can somehow wake a dragon from its sleep? If there is such a thing? You’re saying she is a Dragon Queen, whatever that is? You believe that?”
Elizabeth snarled right back at me, “I believe in your magical abilities, and it is not much of a stretch for me to believe Kendra has her own sort of magic. Maybe hers is that she can disrupt the magic of mages? I have no idea, I’m talking as I’m thinking. What if she can break the spell that keeps one dragon comatose?”
Elizabeth was right. Kendra had occasionally disrupted my magic, especially when she didn’t approve of what I was up to. I’d always thought that but had no proof. She didn’t like what my magic could do. My spells sometimes went wrong, even though I’d cast the same spell many times before. But what if she had ruined them?
My small-magic was no more believable than her ability to disturb the spells of others. If all Elizabeth had said was true, and Kendra went to Mercia and messed up a mage’s spell, the dragon might wake. Then what? Would it bond in some manner with Kendra?
Why were wyverns attracted to her? Out loud, I said, “The answers lie in Mercia.”
As if to discourage our journey, the patter of the rain increased until it pounded the barn boards. Rivulets flowed, and water came inside in a hundred places. The wind increased. Elizabeth said, “And those answers will have to wait another day. While we have use of this barn, there is no reason to leave in this weather.”
“I’m right there with you on that,” Tater drawled.
None of us had known he was awake, or when he woke. He may have heard the entire conversation. If my powers were stronger, I might make him forget it all. My poor excuse for magic might be enough to encourage him to forget the last few sentences if that.
Springer was at his side. Tater carried the dog to the ladder, however from what I saw, the dog had healed and was ready to resume his watchdog duties. Elizabeth shrugged and said, “Does it matter what he heard—or thought he heard? He is one of us.”
Kendra said, “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Tater is going to support us in whatever we do, and he won’t talk about it.”
Elizabeth said, “I agree with you, but wonder why you feel that way?”
“Did you see how he tended the dog? He knows he can pay his brother for it. That can’t be much. But he gave his word that he would look out for it.”
Their observations were beyond my scope to recognize. What was easy to determine was that they were right. The rain slowed, and the air smelled of freshly baked bread. My stomach growled.
The young farmer called from below, “Anybody hungry?”
The three of us wrestled good-naturedly over who would be the first on the ladder. Kendra shoved me aside as she grabbed the railing—an instant behind Elizabeth. Kendra ducked under her arm and managed to get her body ahead, but from the floor of the loft, I got hold of Kendra’s ankle. She twisted to free herself, and that was all Elizabeth needed to get a foot on the top rung and slip ahead in laughter ringing like bells on a holiday.
The farmer had a pot of endless stew sitting on a workbench, and beside it, six small loaves of bread still steaming. His eyes bulged, his face was red. Refined ladies do not act like he’d witnessed, and they’d ganged up to make sure I was the last to be fed.
Elizabeth motioned for us to serve ourselves as she stood in front of him. “Good sir, have you any idea of who I am?”
He shook his head slightly but didn’t seem to care.
“Excellent. I am Princess Elizabeth of Crestfallen, and your king’s favorite daughter.”
His red face paled, and he took a step back, then another. That explained the horses from the royal stables and Alexis. He believed.
She continued, “I am going to ask a favor of you and will not take a negative response. I am your princess and can draw on the might of the entire kingdom to enforce my wishes with a few words. Do you believe me?”
He nodded, looking ready to run. We paused to watch and noticed Tater standing near the wall, a slight smile on his face. He also understood she was leading the farmer on, teasing him.
“Now that we have established my position and the power I control,” she waved her arm in
a flourish and produced a pair of silver coins in her palm, a poor imitation of magic. However, to a farmer who had never held a silver coin in his life, it was more than magic.
He didn’t reach to accept them. He stared and waited.
Elizabeth grinned. “We had intended to stay here one night, and now we must as to remain until tomorrow when hopefully the storm breaks. For your inconvenience and generosity, you are commanded to take these coins and spend them well.”
He said, “No, you’re welcome to stay. All of you. But that is too much to pay.”
She stiffened, and her tone turned serious. “Will you stand there and disobey your princess? Wait until the king dispatches the dungeon-master here to teach you some manners.”
Kendra stepped forward and stage-whispered to him, “You’d better do as she says. Take the coins and be happy.”
“You don’t have to pay me, Princess Elizabeth.”
She took a bowl and ladled it to the brim. Then tasted the stew with a wooden spoon before speaking. “Sir, can you imagine the night we would have endured if you were not so kind that you offered your barn to weary travelers? I may have caught my death of a cold, and because of your generosity, you may have saved a princess’s life. Do you not believe my life is worth two small silver coins? Will you insult me by refusing them?”
His hand snatched the coins.
Elizabeth said, “This is perhaps the best stew I’ve ever eaten.”
“Are you really her?” he asked, trying to bow as he spoke.
“Yes. And now I have another command for you to obey. While we rest here, I expect you to ignore who I am. Treat me as you have already.”
Kendra had taken the time while they talked to finish her stew and a loaf of bread. “Can you make more of this?”
“Now?” he asked, shocked at how much we’d already devoured.
“Not to eat now, but for later?” Kendra asked.
His eyes still rested on Elizabeth. “Princess, would you move into my home and allow me to sleep out here?”
“Didn’t I tell you to forget my royal position? Or are you trying to intentionally anger me?” She smiled to remove the sting from her words.
I’d heard the phrase that said kill them with kindness but had never understood it until then. She could have asked that young farmer to charge into a flaming building, and his feet would have been moving. Elizabeth had provided the highlight of his life. She could ask or order anything and be certain he would do it.
He said, “I have to go fill the pot and let it simmer.”
Elizabeth flashed a smile. “While it is cooking, why not join us out here? We have a rainy day to while away and would appreciate your company.”
The farmer slipped out the door with the empty pot and ran to his house through the rain. Tater said, “You’re good people, ever hear that?”
“I once heard someone say that about you, earlier,” I said to him.
“They were lying.”
“Were not,” I smiled back. Despite being cooped up in a barn during a storm, there was no place I’d rather have been or people I’d want to be with. That thought brought a measure of warmth, then caution. There was another tale I’d heard. When you’re sitting on the peak of a mountaintop, you can only go down from there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T he rain ended sometime during the second night, after a pleasant afternoon of laying around, eating, teasing, and laughing. The farmer told a string of funny stories, and while not a natural talker, shared them with us. He also shared his daily life, of what bothered him, and how his life could be better. We all asked questions. None but Tater had any idea of the life of a farmer in our kingdom, despite all of us eating the food they grew.
Elizabeth asked several penetrating questions, such as, what one thing could make your life better?
Instead of saying buyers could pay more for his vegetables, he took us all by surprise. “To sell at the market in town, a farmer has to get up early and spend time traveling there and back, and also the time selling. They lose a whole day of work or more. Our animals need care. Cows do not wait for milking. We can’t go sell if we need to plant, but if we wait, our crops don’t grow. I guess we need to learn to fly to market.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth had said. “Tell me something. What if every fifth day a wagon rolled past your farm and you could put your crops on it? The driver would deliver it to market, sell it, and take a share of the proceeds with you and the other farmers he hauls for?”
His head was bobbing long before she finished.
She leaned back in the straw and closed her eyes, then they sprang open. “Even better, what if he paid you a reduced price? And he could tell you what vegetables are selling for a profit, so you know what to plant. He could have five routes, one per day, and make a good living.”
“Wagons large enough and oxen to pull them are expensive.”
She smiled. “Maybe they might be provided by my father. Who knows what a king might do for his subjects?”
“You do,” I prompted.
She said, “All you know Damon, is that my father will listen to my suggestion and he understands that what is good for his peasants is also good for him.”
The day dawned clear and bright. We rode out early, after saying our goodbyes to the farmer. The ground was muddy, but we wanted to get going, and a little mud that only came up to our ankles wouldn’t stop us.
Springer ran ahead, veering from side to side with anything that caught his interest. His leg was healed, his coat covered in mud, and his good ear stood straight up. Tater rode ahead, and I took up the rear, along with the duty of leading the packhorse. I wore my sword, had one of the two surviving crossbows slung from my saddle, and the new knife I’d picked up at the store nestled in my pocket.
In mid-morning, the footing was more solid as the road dried in the sun, and we climbed the first long hill. At the crest, a pair of wyvern flew loops and turns, chasing tails and mock-fighting. We watched until they spun as one, facing us.
Kendra hissed, “Oh, no.”
She was correct. They had spotted her in some manner as if she glowed in the dark. While flying high, they raced to both descend and get closer to her. My mind knew fear, and it ordered me to run and take shelter. My body refused.
The pair ignored me and when one opened its tooth-filled maw to shriek, so did the other. The sounds pierced the air. They drew closer and passed over us so close it seemed one of them could have reached down and grabbed any of the four of us in its talons.
After they flew past, Tater said, “Scared the spit out of me.”
That broke the stunned silence, and we laughed, long and hard. When we urged our horses to continue, the daydream returned, the one where Kendra entered the gates of Mercia, and all the wyvern flocked as one to see her.
In each variation of that dream or daymare, the wyvern had never attacked her. Oddly, I accepted what was in the dreams as truth. They screeched enough to hurt my ears, flew right at her, but at no time did I believe my sister was in danger.
Is there anything more stupid than believing what happens in dreams is real? Who would do that? And yet, I’d stood beside my sister on the crest of that hill with utter confidence the wyverns would not harm any of us.
“There will be more of them,” I said.
Tater turned my way.
“Wyverns. There are more ahead, you know. My guess is that many of them will take a look at us.”
“They didn’t any of the other times,” Tater said, clearly puzzled. “They fly over Mercia but tend to mostly stay up in the peaks of the Lost Mountains where their nests are. They often took a sheep from a flock or calf from a herd, but the local royals always paid well for those.”
Elizabeth caught my eye and gave the slightest of nods. Tater needed to know more than he did. Not the entire truth, but he’d be out of luck if he wanted that from me. We only knew a portion of the story.
I said, “Tater, there is something I—we—nee
d to tell you. Wyverns are attracted to my sister. We don’t know why. They have shown no intention of hurting her or those with her.”
“It’s why you’re heading for Mercia, right?” he asked.
“There are other reasons, too. But, yes.”
He rode on a while, then said, “If those things were attracted to me, I’d do the same. Either head the other way or go see what it’s all about, but it’s not like her to run.”
Elizabeth added, “It’s not something we want to be spread around. We trust you will keep it to yourself.”
“No threats?” he asked.
“Friends do not threaten friends,” she said.
She’d done it again. With a few simple words, she’d ironbound his trust as firmly as if a cooper had placed bands around his chest. Tater wouldn’t talk.
There was no telling how much he had overheard in the hayloft, but that too was now behind sealed lips. He was not one of us, but close. The rolling hills gradually climbed from the valley floor to small mountains and the road continued upward. Twice more a wyvern flew to investigate Kendra. However, none returned. The last two were not the first pair, and my mind searched for how it could be so certain of it.
They looked the same. Short bodies with two legs dragging behind as they flew. Where their arm or front legs should be, were immense wings so thin, the sun shone behind like holding a paper up on a bright day. Veins were clearly defined. They were all the same smoky color of dark gray, almost black. Yet, for some reason, my that none of the four were the same.
Springer had seen all four and growled and barked at them, guarding us. He hadn’t quit until they were long past, and Tater might have to restrain the dog when more were in the air.
Kendra suddenly said, “We’ve met nobody on the road.”
Her observation was right. We should be close to Mercia by dark and enter in the morning. It was a large city with a seaport beyond. The road we followed had no grass growing in the twin ruts, indicating a lot of wheeled and foot traffic.