“And did Arnold know that the object of his affection was a monster?”
“Like Lydia, you mean?” Thomas said, and Lleland’s eyes narrowed. “But Aaron’s mother wasn’t a dragon, she was human. She grew up in the village.”
“Human?”
Thomas nodded. “Like Keira. Only human women can bear a dragon child.”
“I see. Aaron’s dragon father abducted a human woman, and the villager wanted to rescue her.”
Thomas settled a narrow gaze on Lleland. “Eleanor loved her husband, just as Keira loves Aaron, and she married Zachary of her own free will. Like the other villagers, Master Hobbes didn’t realize that Zachary – whom he only saw in human form – was a dragon, but since the beginning of time, the villagers have known that there’s a connection between the Drakes of Storbrook Castle and the dragons. One day Zachary landed closer to the village than he should have, and Master Hobbes saw him with Eleanor on his back. Hobbes flew at the dragon with a branch, but Eleanor stepped into his path and was felled with a mortal blow. When Zachary saw Eleanor was dead, he was overcome with despair. He lost the will to fight, and the villagers killed him. Aaron saw it all.”
“But the villagers knew the dragon was dangerous. They were saving their village from a monster. He probably would have killed his human mate eventually.”
Thomas laughed dryly. “Zachary loved Eleanor. Look at Aaron and Keira. Do you think he would ever harm her? They’ve been married for forty years, and he loves her more now than ever. Besides, they’ve been bound together in a way two humans can never be.”
“So she’s tasted his blood. I know what that feels like – she has no choice but to stay with him.”
“When a dragon takes a mate, the bond goes both ways. He’s bound to her as much as she is to him. It was the same with Eleanor and Zachary.”
Lleland dropped down at the end of the bed. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally said.
“You came here with your mind made up about dragons, Master Seaton. But as a scholar you should know better than to close your mind off to other possibilities. I just wanted to give you something more to mull over before you leave in the morning.” Thomas pushed himself wearily to his feet, his hand on the arm of the chair. “Aaron has ordered a horse be saddled for you in the morning. You can leave it with Richard when you reach the village.”
“I have no wish to impose myself any further on Master Drake,” Lleland said stiffly.
Thomas shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s a long way down the mountain.”
“Thank you. I’ll walk,” Lleland said.
He waited as Thomas left the room, then dropped the bar over the door once more. He glanced at the bed. His body ached with weariness, but he knew his mind would allow him no rest. He sank into the chair where Thomas had sat a moment before, and stared into the fire. The woman he loved was also a monster. The words she had spoken earlier that day taunted him: could he ever love a dragon? He rose to his feet with a growl and started pacing the room. Did the woman he loved even exist? Lydia was the kind of creature he most despised in the world, and she’d kept that information hidden. His jaw clenched as anger surged through him. She had taken him for a fool. Led him on, let him fall in love with her, all the while hiding her black heart! She’d asked him if he could ever love a dragon. No! Lleland growled the word through clenched teeth. Never!
A log fell in the grate, and he turned towards it. The glowing embers seemed to mock him, reminding him of eyes that burned with flame. With a snarl, he kicked the pile of wood beside the hearth, sending logs scattering. He could not remain a minute longer in the monster’s lair.
He gathered his small bundle, grabbed his bow and lifted the bar from the door. All was quiet, but he paused a moment, listening, before heading into the passage and towards the stairs. Dragons, he knew, had excellent hearing. He froze when a scratching came from the wall, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the small, beady eyes of a mouse. He continued down the stairs, and a moment later cautiously pushed open the door to the courtyard. There was no-one about except the guard, who was dozing on a wooden chair near the fire pit. Lleland glanced upwards – the moon was nearly full, allowing him to easily see the gate. Skirting the edge of the building, he crossed the courtyard and passed beneath the portcullis. It was raised, as always, and it occurred to Lleland that he had never seen it lowered. Indeed, there seemed little need for it when the castle was filled with dragons.
With as little noise as possible, he made his way down the stony path that led from Storbrook, breathing a sigh of relief when he reached the woods. It was dark beneath the trees, but he had traversed this path enough times over the last few weeks to know the general direction he needed to go. He traveled as quickly as possible, eager to increase the distance between himself and the dragons’ lair.
By the time the sun crested the horizon, Lleland had already traveled a fair distance. He paused midmorning to fill his canteen with water, and at the waters’ edge he found a bush with a few small berries which he gulped ravenously. He had not eaten since the previous afternoon. Whenever he left the canopy of trees, he glanced heavenwards. He thought he saw a dragon circling high above him, but it wasn’t until he saw the sun glancing off the scales that he was sure.
It was late afternoon when he saw the spire of the village church between the trees. His belly ached from hunger, his limbs were exhausted and his head was wracked with pain. He stumbled into the inn, and after ravenously gulping down two bowls of stew, he fell on the bed provided to him, and was asleep within moments.
Chapter 25
Despite his exhaustion, Lleland did not sleep well. The sounds of the inn settling startled him awake, and he tossed and turned in the bed until finally he fell into a restless sleep. He awoke to the sun streaming in through the small window above his bed, still exhausted. His body ached from the previous day’s exertions, but he barely noticed as the recollections of the last few days flooded his mind. What had seemed so simple before – his love for Lydia and his mission to rid the world of dragons – had suddenly become very complicated. Not only was the woman he loved a monster, but she could hide herself in plain sight.
Lleland had heard rumors before that dragons could take on human form, but like the other members of the League, had dismissed them as old wives’ tales. Knowing now the truth of the tales, he understood just how cunning the dragons were. They had outwitted the hunters for years by changing their appearance and taking on human form. But armed with this knowledge, Lleland knew that the tide could be turned, and the world could finally be rid of the beasts. He coldly pushed aside the memories of golden eyes and soft lips that rose in his mind. They were based on a lie, and there was a war to be won, whatever the cost.
When Lleland left his chamber a little later, he found the innkeeper seated at a table in the hall. He nodded at Lleland as he entered the room. “Some bread and ale, Master?”
“Thank you,” Lleland said. He watched as the innkeeper shuffled away. In his haste to leave Storbrook, he had not given thought to the route he would take back to Civitas, but it occurred to him now that he should have some plan. He remembered John, the coachman, talking about a road that skirted around the mountains.
“How do I get to the road that leads to the city?” he asked the innkeeper when he returned with a board of bread and cheese.
“The city, eh?” The man scratched his head. “The west road joins the highway.” He shrugged. “I guess that heads south.”
“How far to the highway?” he asked.
“’Bout seventy miles.”
Lleland finished his meal, and collected his belongings. As he stepped onto the street he saw Matthew Hobbes across the road, talking to some friends. He ducked his head, hoping to pass unnoticed, but when one of the other men stared at him, Matthew turned around.
“The dragon hunter!” he said. “Did you kill some beasts up in the mountains?”
Lleland sighed inwardly. “No,” he sai
d.
“But you saw the monsters?”
“I did.”
“And yet you did not kill them. Why not?”
“I didn’t come here to hunt,” Lleland said. “I came to gather information and learn what I could about the dragons.”
“But you’ll be back with a hunting party?”
Lleland shrugged. “Perhaps. But the mountains are a long way from the city, and we must deal with threats closer to home first.”
Matthew frowned. “Our village may be small, but those dragons are just as dangerous as the monsters close to the city.”
“After forty years, it seems to me that the risk is minimal. I’d rather focus my attention on more serious threats.”
Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “That monster killed my father,” he said.
“From what I heard, your father attacked the dragon unprovoked.”
“What kind of hunter chooses to side with the beasts?”
“Those dragons are not a threat,” Lleland snapped. “And as long as they live peacefully in the mountains, we’ll leave them alone.”
“You’ll wait until they attack and kill us?”
“They won’t.” Lleland glanced up at the sky. “I see no dragons coming in to burn, kill and plunder.” He nodded his head. “Good day.”
“Those monsters must die,” Matthew shouted as he walked away. “And if you won’t do it, I will!”
The day grew hot as the sun rose higher, and Lleland’s palm was slick from gripping his bow. There were few travelers on the road, but there were plenty of sheep, and they complained loudly as he walked by.
When the sun dropped behind the mountains, Lleland looked out for somewhere to spend the night. A small stand of trees offered some shelter, and he headed off the road towards them. In his satchel he had a hunk of bread and a slice of cheese, taken from the inn that morning, and he pulled them out as he made himself comfortable against the trunk of a tree. He had not been there very long when he saw someone walking along the road, traveling in his direction. He looked away, but the traveler, a young man, shouted out a greeting.
“Hello, there,” he called. He left the road and headed towards Lleland. He was dressed in a well-cut doublet and scarlet breeches. His boots were clearly new, and at his side hung a sword with a jeweled hilt. “I thought I saw someone ahead of me,” he said. “Was that you?”
“It was.” Lleland paused. In his hand he held the bread and cheese. “Will you join me in my meal?” he said. “It’s not much, but I’m happy to share.”
The man dropped to the ground. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. “The name’s Francis Smythe.”
Lleland shook the proffered hand. “Lleland Seaton.”
Lleland shared out the bread and cheese, and passed Francis a bottle of ale. As they ate, Lleland discovered that the young man was the son of a wealthy landlord, sent on pilgrimage as penance for getting the daughter of a neighboring farmer with child. “That’s why I travel on foot,” he said cheerfully. “I must suffer for my sins.” He finished his food and rose. “Well, I’m not going to tarry. I have no wish to sleep in a field, and the next village is only five more miles.”
“You shouldn’t travel the roads alone in the dark,” Lleland warned. “There could be wild animals – or worse,” he added darkly. “Stay here and we’ll travel together in the morning.”
“Not I. I have no fear for my safety. I know these roads – have traveled them since I was a boy.”
Lleland shrugged. “Very well.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Francis said. He waved and continued down the road, disappearing into the gray light of dusk.
Lleland stretched out on the ground and stared at the stars as they began to pierce the darkening sky. A trail of flame caught his eye and he watched it for a moment. It was far away, but he imagined he could feel the heat licking over his body. Hr turned over and closed his eyes as sleep silently washed over him. In his dreams he felt soft lips pressed to his own, and he whispered a name into the night.
He awoke before the sun appeared over the mountains, and after a few mouthfuls of stale bread, continued on his way. The sky was clear, promising another hot day. He wondered if Francis had found the bed he sought. With his charming smile and easy manner, he had probably procured both a bed and a comely maid to warm it for him, Lleland thought wryly.
The road dipped and curved as it followed the mountains, disappearing into valleys and reappearing further away as it climbed another steep slope. Lleland had just crested a summit when he saw a group of men in the valley below. It was difficult to tell from this distance what they were doing, but he picked up his pace, then started running when he heard a yell.
One of the men was swinging a club, and as Lleland drew closer he saw Francis surrounded by three armed men. The men were being kept at bay by a swinging sword, but as Lleland watched, the man with the club moved behind Francis and raised his weapon. Dropping to his knees, Lleland notched an arrow and sent it flying. It hit the man with the club in the chest, and there was a dull thud as he dropped to the ground.
The other two men paid no attention to their fallen comrade, but the noise distracted Francis and he glanced over his shoulder, giving his attackers the opening they were looking for. One of the men lunged at Francis with a dagger, but Francis was already turning back and the blade merely scraped his skin. Lleland released another arrow and the man dropped to his knees, the shaft sticking from his belly. As he fell he caught the tunic of the third attacker, slowing him down. The man shoved his wounded friend aside, but Francis was already swinging his sword above his head. It crashed down into the last man’s skull, and he crumpled to the ground as blood spurted in every direction. Francis turned towards Lleland kneeling in the dust.
“Behind you,” Francis shouted.
Francis waved towards the bushes at the side of the road, and Lleland spun to see two more men running towards him from the cover of the trees. He notched another arrow and hit one of the men in the shoulder, but there was no time to release another before the last man was on him. Clasped in his hand was a short dagger, and he struck Lleland in the chest with enough force to send both men tumbling to the ground.
The man rose to his knees, straddling Lleland, and yanked the dagger from Lleland’s chest. He drew back for another blow as Lleland tried to shove him aside, but the wound had been deep, and his strength was already draining away.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Francis running towards him, shouting something as he lifted his sword. He’s too far away to do anything, Lleland thought. He could see the glint of the dagger raised in the air, poised to strike again. He stared at it, fascinated by the way it shimmered in the light, but then suddenly it was gone. The man disappeared, and a golden dragon filled his vision. The dragon dropped beside Lleland, its huge body blocking Francis.
“Lleland. Look at me.” Lydia lowered her head, and Lleland lifted his eyes to meet her golden gaze. “I’m not going to let you die,” she said.
“You must,” he said. He shivered. Behind Lydia’s hulking form, Francis was yelling for her to stay away.
“Why do humans think we want to hurt them?” Lydia said.
“Perhaps because that’s what dragons do.” Lleland coughed, and specks of blood flew from his mouth, landing on Lydia’s scales.
“You should know better by now,” she said. The dagger that had pierced Lleland still lay on the ground, and Lydia grabbed it with her talons and placed it against her hide.
“No,” Lleland said, trying to reach her claw, but he had no strength, and his hand dropped to the ground. “Let me die.” Everything was growing hazy, and black specks swarmed his vision. A blurry image appeared in front of him, and the sun glittered against the sharp end of a sword, pointed at Lydia.
“Leave him alone,” Francis shouted. The words battered against Lleland’s mind, and he closed his eyes. The darkness was growing as the humming increased. Lydia said something, but he could not make ou
t the words. Instead he gave himself over to the darkness.
Chapter 26
It was the sound of voices, raised in anger, that penetrated the fog that clung to Lleland’s mind, arousing him to consciousness.
“What have you done?”
“He was going to die!”
“Then you should have let him die!”
Lleland forced his eyes open. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, but as the last of the fog cleared away, he realized he was back in his chamber at Storbrook. He turned towards the voices. Lydia was standing with her back to him, blocking the faces of Aaron and Zach. Lleland stared at them, trying to remember how he had arrived back here. Francis was being attacked, he remembered, and he went to his aid, killing three of the attackers. But he had been stabbed.
“You gave me your blood,” Lleland rasped. Lydia spun around to face him. “Zach’s right, you should have let me die,” he said.
Lydia crossed over to the bed. “Here,” she said, handing him a cup of water. He lifted himself to his elbow and drained the contents. His throat burned like desert sand, and heat coursed through his body, which the water did little to relieve. He handed Lydia the cup and fell back on the bed.
“I told you let me die.”
“I couldn’t,” she replied as Aaron and Zach left the room.
“So instead you gave me your blood,” he said bitterly. He turned to look at the wall. “What happened to Francis?”
“Francis? The boy? He tried to kill me with his sword, and when I took you with me, he hurled rocks at me.”
“Good man,” Lleland said approvingly. He turned back to Lydia, meeting her golden gaze. “You should have left me to die.”
Lydia pulled her gaze away with a sigh. “So you keep saying. Would you have left me to die?” Lleland looked away, unable to give her a reply. He was so hot, and his skin was itchy where he had been stabbed.
“I’ve been bound to a dragon once before,” he said. “I have no wish to endure it again.”
“You’re not a child anymore,” Lydia said. “You know your own mind, and can resist the desire to do something against your will. Not that I would make any such demands of you.”
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