“We are nearly to the fens,” Martin said, patting his horse’s sweaty shoulder. “You must be very careful, my lord, for the marsh is deceitful. What looks like sturdy ground may actually be water grasses growing over deep mires. There are water snakes to watch for and quicksand. I will seek out the ancient path through the fen, but much of it has sunk beneath the stagnant waters, and the way is hard to find. There is a place ahead where we can pass the night in safety and leave the horses. It would be foolish to risk them in the fen when we can travel faster by foot anyway.”
Edmond nodded. “Lead on.”
Martin pulled his horse’s head up from the stream and moved on, soon turning onto a broader path. They journeyed through the rest of the day, slapping at biting insects, moving slowly to watch for dangers. Often they had to cross through deep waters, swimming alongside their horses, and Edmond was thankful for Martin’s insistence that he learn to swim as a boy. There were no deep rivers or lakes in his mountainous kingdom, only one pool at the base of a waterfall in a narrow valley. Most of his training had taken place in that valley; there he had honed his skills with weapons and developed skill and confidence in the water.
As they waded through one pool of stagnant water, Martin suddenly sank to his waist and shouted, “Quicksand! Stay back.”
Edmond led his horse from the water onto solid ground, tied a rope around the pommel of his saddle, and threw the other end to Martin. By this time, the man had sunk until only his head was above water, but he’d managed to keep his arms free of the sand. He caught the rope and twisted it several times around his wrist, tying a knot, and was thus able to maintain his grip on the rope as Edmond turned the horse and, with great effort, pulled Martin free of the sand’s deadly suction.
Lying on the bank, nearly swallowed up in ferns and covered with grey mud, Martin struggled to catch his breath as Edmond crouched over him. At last he sat up and gripped Edmond’s arm. “I owe you my life.”
“And after being in this forsaken place a day, I owe you mine a dozen times over. You prepared me well, but it is a wonder anyone survives here.”
“There are many who do. You will be their guest tonight. We shouldn’t tarry. You do not want to spend a night here without shelter.”
A snake slithered out of the ferns, and Edmond’s sword flashed out. With the flat of his blade, he flung it into the water. “No, I most certainly do not.”
As twilight fell upon them, their path ran alongside a rocky ledge. Edmond was amazed to see an orange glow emanating from a large cavity in the rock. The cave was the height of two men, and they might easily have ridden into it . . . but were halted by a threatening voice overhead.
“Stand!”
With muscles tense and heart pounding, Edmond reined in his horse and looked up to where a man stood on an overhang with an arrow nocked, ready to draw his bow. There was a rustle in the branches of a tree to their left, and Edmond searched until he saw another man standing ready to loose an arrow. With amazement, he heard Martin laugh.
“Warren, you dog. Do you not know your own brother?”
The man on the overhang lowered his bow and leaned forward to get a closer look. “Never say it’s you, Martin.”
“By your life, I swear it is,” Martin said. Then he laughed again. “I’m disappointed. We rode into the middle of your camp with nary a man to stop us.”
The man drew his bow. “I could stop you now.”
“Or you could come join us by your fire,” Martin said, his voice unperturbed.
With a grin, his brother said, “Go on inside.”
Edmond began to relax as he dismounted and led his horse behind Martin’s into the mouth of the cave. The horses’ shoes rang against the rock and echoed through the chamber. A large fire burned in a pit on the floor, but the cave’s ceiling was too high for its light to reach.
Running footsteps approached from behind. Warren passed them, carrying a torch, and said, “I’ll help you find an empty stall for your horses.”
The stalls were formed by gates made of cut saplings that closed off the open ends of natural alcoves in the rock. It was impossible to see much, but the place smelled of animals and hay. The shuffling sounds of hooves and various bleats and grunts revealed the kinds of animals kept here.
“We keep them in here at night because that is when the dragon does most of its hunting. It’s not always safe in the daytime, but the creatures don’t do well kept inside all the time.”
“Dragons must have a fierce appetite,” Martin said, leading first his horse and then Edmond’s into a large alcove with a tall ceiling.
“It’s been a sore trial having the dragon around. He’s eaten most of the game, and if it weren’t for the fishing and the odd caravan that comes up the north road, we’d have all had to move on or starve. As it is, there are no more than a dozen of us left. Of course, the supply wagon for the castle comes by every fortnight, but we take that only when we have to. After all, we’re loyal subjects of the princess, bless her.”
“Glad to hear it,” Martin said in a dry tone.
“Oh, always. I’ll see about getting you some food. Come to the fire when your horses are settled.” Warren handed Edmond the torch and started off.
“Don’t you need a torch?” Edmond asked him.
“I’ve been walking these caves my whole life. I don’t need light to find my way.”
Martin chuckled as he unsaddled Edmond’s horse. “He hasn’t changed, the old rogue.”
With ill-hidden humor, Edmond asked, “Why didn’t I know you were related to thieves?”
“Well, sir, it isn’t something a man should boast of, now is it? But I figured you’d overlook it for the sake of a safe night and helpful information. Warren is sure to have plenty of that.”
This proved to be true. As the three men sat around a fire, eating small fish fried in a pan over the flames, Warren talked of all the strange sights he’d seen in the forest during the dozen or so years since he’d last seen his brother. As he told stories, a few children played a game with assorted rocks nearby, and several women sat weaving baskets of reeds, listening to the talk. The other men of the camp were on guard duty.
“And what goes on in the rest of the kingdom?” Martin asked.
Warren scratched his beard and said, “Well, ’tis said that Galloran died.”
Sitting up straighter, his attention now sharp, Martin said, “So we heard. And we had audience with the new Lady Regent.”
“Lady Rhoswen, yes.” Warren nodded. “It is good, we hope, that she is now regent. All this time she has protected Arabella from her father and his stratagems and rebellions. So long as he retained his youth through magic, she has done so as well, and has protected the princess from his attacks. Her soldiers patrol the roads and the fens, and her dragon defeats anyone that slips through. Galloran wasn’t able to get close to the princess even though she lies in his own castle.”
“Nor can anyone else,” Edmond said, staring into the blackness overhead while his brain churned.
“I suppose not,” Warren said, his voice thoughtful.
Edmond clenched his hand on his sword. “She offered me marriage, claiming she could make me a king, but I could not understand why she had waited so long to act against the princess. Now I know. She could not act so long as her father lived.”
Looking around to see if the others followed his line of thinking, he saw that the men and women around him all wore tense expressions.
When Martin spoke, the dread of a loyal subject rang in his voice, “Surely she could not be capable of such wickedness.”
“I fear that if we do not reach Briar Fen Castle soon, we will learn the worst. Martin, we leave at daybreak.”
By noon the next day Edmond began to wonder if he would ever be dry again, or if his feet would rot in his boots. For most of the morning they had traveled across solid ground, but streams and bogs rose up constantly before them. They had left their horses behind with Warren, knowing the poor
beasts would be useless in the terrain ahead.
“How much further, do you think?” Edmond asked, anxious to find the castle.
“Not far now. With luck, we should be there in another hour. See that ridge ahead of us? You can just make it out beyond those willows.”
“Yes. I see it.”
“Briar Fen castle lies on the other side. Indeed, it is built against it, the rock forming its fourth wall.”
As soon as he finished speaking, they both froze as a sharp shriek rang through the air, sending a chill of fear down Edmond’s spine. “The dragon. Curse my father for sending it here!”
“I could not tell its direction, could you?”
“No. Keep a sharp eye out.”
They walked on, wary now, their eyes constantly scanning the sky. Edmond groaned when their path disappeared beneath mud and puddles of stagnant water, especially since slogging through it would slow them down and leave them exposed.
The trees, almost all willows, grew sparsely here, and the heavy smell of decay rose up from the marsh. They waded around the shallows of a lake with a small island in its center, upon which stood an abandoned stone tower. Only the bones of civilization remained to indicate that anyone had ever lived here, but vivid life flourished among the decay. Delicate white lilies with bright pink centers floated on the water, and strange birds on long legs waded through the pools. Bird calls filled the air, frogs croaked, and minnows teemed in the shallows. Life and death held hands in this strange green world.
“Here’s the path again, Your Highness.”
Martin waited until Edmond stood beside him. A cobbled road stretched ahead for ten yards before sinking again beneath still water.
Edmond heaved a sigh. “I will never curse the dry season at home again.”
As they proceeded, jumping from tussock to tussock through the maze of water and mounds of earth, or wading through when these grassy stepping stones were too far apart, Edmond realized that he no longer even felt the water seeping into his boots. The clay was deep here, however, making it difficult to advance, as they had to pull their boots out of the muck at each step with a sucking, squelching sound. “It’s a good thing we aren’t trying for stealth,” Edmond said after a particularly difficult step in which he nearly lost his boot entirely.
“The music of the fens,” Martin said cheerfully.
As they emerged from another grove of willows, the ridge rose before them. But a river flowed between, with their path to the castle resuming on its far shore. “This is the Sage River,” Martin said. “It runs deep and has strong currents.”
“How do we cross?” Edmond asked.
“Come on, lad. You can swim.”
“Yes, but that river looks treacherous.”
A new and rapid ripple drew their attention, caused by a small black head rising up from the water. “Snake,” said Martin.
“Better and better,” Edmond said. As he glanced around, something caught his eye a short way down the river where it took a bend to the right. “Is that a rope?”
“Aye. No doubt Warren put it there,” Martin said, and led the way along the muddy bank toward the bend. They saw that a giant tree had fallen across the river here, and above it a length of thick rope stretched between two trees on opposite sides of the river at the height of a man’s reach. The narrow end of the tree rested on the opposite bank, which was lower than the one they stood on. Even with the rope, crossing would be difficult.
Without hesitation Edmond climbed the twisted roots that rose above his head, reached to grasp the rope, and took a step forward. After a few careful steps he got comfortable with the angle of his feet on the slanting tree and kept himself balanced by grasping the rope above his head. “It seems secure,” he called to Martin, “though it is a good thing neither of us is short.”
Martin scrambled up behind him, and they moved carefully across the river, their confidence rising until the trunk sloped down at an angle that seemed much steeper than it had looked from the bank.
“We may take a dunking after all if we don’t manage this well,” Edmond said, pausing to collect himself.
“Yes, but we have worse trouble.”
Edmond looked back at Martin then followed his gaze downriver. The dragon hung there, silhouetted against the sky, its body arching up to charge forward as it caught sight of them. Its battle-torn wings spanned the whole width of the river, and its sleek body was taller than any warhorse, with a huge tail doubling its length. The ridge of spines crowning its head and the claws on each of its feet chilled Edmond’s blood. As it came closer, the sunlight glinted off a heavy gold chain encircling its neck
With the predator tearing toward them, there was no time to wonder about the chain. Edmond let go of the rope and slid down the tree, crouching low to keep his balance. His weight kept him on course nearly to the bottom, where he fell off and plunged into the river.
Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he felt by the rush of water and bubbles next to him that Martin had fallen in beside him. Deciding it was safer to stay underwater, he swam as far as he could and surfaced only when his lungs screamed for air. Through the water streaming over his eyes, he could just see the enormous black dragon mounting the sky, preparing to plunge down in another attack. He dove again as deep as he could go, kicking furiously. Because dragons preferred the rocky desert lands on the borders of his own kingdom, he hoped the dragon couldn’t swim, but a splash in the water spurred him to keep kicking downwards.
Death awaited him on the surface, yet he had no choice but to come up for breath. The current dragged at his aching legs, but he kicked hard. His boots and sword were a hindrance, but he was glad not to have lost them.
When he finally broke the surface, his head banged into something and he reached up, groping for a handhold. He managed to grab a limb and pull himself up. Shaking his head to clear the dripping hair from his eyes, he saw that he had surfaced beneath a tangle of limbs and broken trees.
While pulling himself further into their shelter, he looked around for Martin and saw him upstream, clinging to a root on the bank. The dragon was swooping down toward him.
“Martin. Here!” Edmond cried out.
Martin turned sharply and saw him. He dove, but not deep enough. The dragon hit the water, claws extended, and caught him by one leg. It pulled Martin out of the river, streaming water behind as it flapped its wings hard, trying to gain altitude.
As Edmond’s heart lurched, Martin took a knife from his arm sheath and pulled his body forward with incredible strength to stab at the dragon’s leg, piercing between scales. With a scream of pain the dragon released him, and Martin fell into the water, landing on his back. He drew breath and dove again quickly.
Martin was underwater long enough to worry Edmond, but at last Martin’s head quietly broke the surface beside him under the branches. Neither spoke as they searched for the dragon. It shrieked and emerged from over the ridge that towered over the riverbank, then dove and skimmed the water, searching for them. It passed directly overhead and swooped into the sky again.
“It’s seen us,” Edmond said.
“Some of these branches extend beneath the water,” Martin said. “Use them to pull yourself down and stay submerged.”
With their lungs full of air, they held themselves under as the branches shook around them, churning the water into a whirl of bubbles and debris. Edmond feared their shelter would soon break apart.
When they were forced to come up to breathe, flames burned above them. Only the dampness of the wood saved them from emerging into an inferno.
Martin coughed in the smoky air, his chest heaving. “Where’s the dragon?”
Ducking underwater again, Edmond pulled himself through the tangle and emerged on the other side, ready to dive back under. But though he looked in all directions, he saw no sign of the dragon.
“It’s gone. Let’s move before it comes back.”
Martin joined him, and they maneuvered around the pile of debris until
they could climb up the bank. Martin led the way along the base of the ridge, and soon they heard shouts and screams ahead. Running, they burst through a stand of trees and saw, across a narrow open field, the thorn-covered walls of the castle.
On the far side of the field, Prince Nicol and his men engaged in deadly battle against the dragon, their backs to the thorns, which burned with dark orange flames belching columns of smoke.
As Edmond and Martin took in the scene before them, the dragon swooped down and grabbed a man off his horse, crushing him in its terrible teeth. Having claimed its prize, the dragon flew away directly over their heads, so close that they dropped to the ground to avoid the spikes on its whipping tail and, looking up, they could see the sheen of the purple scales on its underbelly.
They stayed down until the dragon disappeared over the tree line, then stood up and faced five swords brandished by men with hard faces and steady hands.
Bleeding, wet, and exhausted, Edmond and Martin weighed this new threat.
“On the bright side, Your Highness,” Martin said, “we’ve found the castle.”
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