Facing the Dragon A Novella

by Linda K Hopkins

  “The next time you need information –” O’Reilly started, and Max laughed.

  “I thought you were worried for your life,” Max said.

  “I can buy me a fast steed now, can’t I?” O’Reilly said.

  “Find yourself a good woman, and stay away from the girls,” Max said, rising to his feet. “Until next time, O’Reilly.”

  O’Reilly nodded. “If you need me, guv’nor,” he said, “look south.”

  Max flew slowly along the coastline. It was a warm spring day, and he could feel the sun shining on his back. Clement’s ring hung from a leather thong around his neck, and tapped against his chest as he flew. He passed Helen’s cottage, and flew towards his lair, rising higher into the air to hide himself above the clouds. It was too high for most birds to fly, and was deathly quiet, only the sound of Max’s wings slicing through the air breaking the silence. The cottage gleamed in the sunlight next to the white dunes, a picture of peace and tranquility. A little way beyond the cottage scrubby bushes gave way to larger trees, the start of the forest. He dropped his height and could hear the leaves rustling slightly in the breeze, along with the twittering of birds as they flew between the branches, searching for grubs and seeds.

  A scream ripped through the air, shattering the peace. The sharp tang of blood reached Max’s nostrils and he turned towards the smell with a snarl. There was a movement between the trees, and then the sound of pounding feet. He angled his body and sped closer to the ground where he could smell the blood. As he approached, he saw a small, broken body lying on the ground. He let out a roar as he landed heavily on the ground, sending clods of earth in every direction. Margaret lay on the ground, her leg twisted beneath her body as blood streamed from her chest. Max could hear her shallow breath, and the slowing of her heart. Her eyes were closed, but as Max landed next to her, she opened them feebly. They widened for a brief moment, and then she gave the slightest ghost of a smile.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” Max said. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back. I was looking for you.” Max pulled back slightly. How did she know? And was she was in the forest because she was waiting for him?

  “Who did this?” he demanded. Margaret’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “He wanted to know where Mistress kept her gold,” she said. “I tried to run away.” She gasped, and slipping his talons behind her neck, Max carefully lifted her head. She coughed, bright red blood spilling from between her lips, then lay back against his scaly arms. She was shivering, and laying her head back on the ground, Max carefully brought his body next to hers. He wrapped his tail around her, and cradled her within his heat as her life slipped slowly away.

  “It’s all right, darling,” Max whispered. “Nothing can harm you now. The dragon will keep you safe.” She gave another ghost of a smile, and lifting her hand, pressed it against his tail where it ran along his side. The touch was so feeble, he barely felt it. Her heart gave one more unsteady beat, and her hand slipped onto the ground as her eyes closed once more, never to see again. With a roar, Max pulled her against his chest, wrapping his neck around her back as he held her close.

  The sound of crashing feet reached him a moment before the scream. “Get away from her!” Something smacked down against his back and he turned around to see Helen, brandishing a stick in front of his face. “You monster!” she screamed. “Get away.” Max stared at the raging woman for a moment, then turning back to Margaret, carefully laid her back on the ground. He rose to his feet, and turned to look at the angry woman.

  “Helen,” he said. “It’s me. Max.”

  “Get away from her,” Helen screamed. She ran up to the girl, and pulled the limp body into her arms. “You cannot have her.”

  “Helen –“

  “Get away from here. I should never have trusted you. You’re a monster!”

  At her words, Max pulled back in shock. He stared at Helen, who was struggling to rise with the girl in her arms. He stretched forward. “Let me help you –” he started, but his words were drowned out by her scream.

  “Go!”

  Max pulled back, and stretching his neck to his full height, looked down at her angrily. “I did not do this,” he growled as he spread his wings and lifted himself into the air. In the moment before he turned, he saw Helen collapse onto the ground, and pulling Margaret into her lap, start to weep.

  He pushed himself into the sky, his wings beating furiously as Helen’s angry voice echoed through his mind. She thought he was a monster. Just like his mother would if she ever found out what he was. Clement’s ring tapped against his chest, and ripping it off his neck with his claws, he flung it into the trees. It sailed through the air and landed on a high branch, caught by the leather thong. He turned towards the north, and following the coastline, flew through the day and into the black of night.

  Max had never been to Erik’s home in the north before, and it was only as he slowly circled between the mountains that bordered the deep fjord that he finally spotted the stone and wood castle buried deep in the trees. He approached cautiously, slowly dropping as he circled around the building, but a few moments later he saw Erik, staring up at him as he stood at the window.

  “What are you doing here?” he said as Max dropped lower. “I thought you were returning to the old woman.”

  “It’s a long story,” Max said.

  “Well, my parents will be delighted,” Erik said. “I’ll meet you on the balcony on the east side.” Max transformed in the air and landed on the balcony as Erik stepped outside, tossing Max a pair of breeches. An elderly couple stepped through the doorway.

  “Max,” Erik said, “these are my parents. Leif and Lisbet.” Like his son, Leif was brawny, with long, yellow hair braided into multiple strands that hung down his back. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Max, but Lisbet stretched out her hands with a smile.

  “Max,” she said, “Erik has told us all about you. I’m so glad you decided to accept his invitation to come here.”

  “Thank you, Mistress,” Max said looking down at the petite woman, dwarfed by her husband. She reminded him of Cathryn. He looked at Leif, and nodded at the older man.

  “Erik says you fought at Aaron’s side against Jack,” Leif said, his eyebrows gathered together as he stared at Max.

  “I did,” Max said.

  The man nodded. “Then you are welcome here,” he said. He looked at Erik. “Bring him in,” he said, before turning away and stepping back through the doorway. Lisbet gave Max another smile, then followed her husband.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” Erik said. “Come.” Max followed Erik through the door and into a huge, open hall. The bottom half of the hall was built with stone, while hewn planks reached to the ceiling. Wooden beams, carved with intricate scrolling patterns, held up the roof, and were painted in bright reds and blues. A long table ran the length of the hall, and to the one side stood a stone fireplace. It was unlit, and hidden behind a wide embroidered screen. On either side of the fireplace were chairs, where Leif and Lisbet took their seats.

  A large pitcher stood in the middle of the table, and heading over to it, Erik poured some liquid into two wooden cups, one of which he handed to Max. It was strong and spicy, and burned as it went down Max’s throat. Erik watched as he drained the cup, then gestured to a bench.

  “So you have come to your senses and decided to come stay here,” Erik said.

  “Perhaps for a few weeks,” Max said.

  “And what changed your mind?”

  “Helen thinks I killed a child.”

  “Did you?”

  “Erik!” Lisbet intervened. “I’m sure Max has done no such thing.” She turned to look at Max. “Have you?” Max smiled at her unintended contradiction.

  “I did not. I found the child dying in the forest, and was with her when Helen found me.”

  “She accused you
of murder because you were with the child when she died?” Erik sounded shocked.

  “And … what form were you in?” Lisbet asked.

  Max glanced back at her. “My natural form.”

  “Ah!” She leaned back in her chair. “That explains it.”

  Max rose to his feet and started pacing the room. “It shouldn’t matter,” he said. “She should have trusted me.”

  “She knows what you are?” Leif’s voice sounded hard and demanding, and Max turned to look at him.

  “Yes. She found me when I was injured in a storm. But she only saw me the one time.”

  “You should have been more careful,” Leif said. Lisbet turned to him and leaning forward, gently laid her hand on his arm.

  “I’m sure Max didn’t intend to get injured,” she said softly. “And he has been careful ever since.”

  Leif glared at Max for another moment, but when he turned to his wife, his expression softened. “Of course, you’re right, my dear,” he said.

  Lisbet turned back to Max. “So this woman has only seen you once in your true form?” Max nodded. “And this child, was it someone she knew?”

  “Yes,” Max said with a sigh. He had already caught the gist of Lisbet’s thoughts, and knew what she was going to say.

  “Grief leads us to say things we don’t mean, Max,” she said softly. “She was angry and confused, and probably a little fearful, and you were the first person she could take it out on. You know she didn’t mean what she said.” She watched as Max dropped his head into his hands, then nodded at Erik. “The Blue Room is already made up. Max can stay there.”

  The Blue Room was large and comfortable, and Max fell onto the bed with a sigh. He had spent the evening with the Draksons, answering Leif’s gruff questions about Aaron and his battle with Jack, but now that he was alone, he could not put Lisbet’s words from his mind. But he did not want to think about Helen or Lisbet. And definitely not Margaret. What he wanted was to sleep. But sleep would not come, and he tossed and turned through the night. The moon was full, and in the distance he could hear wolves howling across the mountain peaks.

  The days passed, and Max remained with the Draksons. It was good to be with his own kind, but Max knew he was just delaying the inevitable. He needed to return to Helen, if only to give her the news about her son. But more than that, he needed to know if Helen really meant what she had said.

  He left a week later, promising to return once his mission was complete. He flew south all day, stopping for a few hours in an alpine meadow, before continuing his journey through the night. As he approached the village, he veered towards the forest, his sharp eyes searching the branches for the ring he had so angrily tossed aside. The leather thong was still tangled in the branches, and the ring dangled in the sunlight, glinting as it twisted in the air. He glided towards it, and snagged it from the branch, then turned towards the mountains and back to the lair he had abandoned the previous autumn. He would wait until morning before going to see Helen.

  When Max walked through the woods the next morning, he stopped where Margaret had died. The ground was still stained with her blood, and scraping up a handful of dirt he brought it to his nose. Her scent was barely discernable, but he caught a trace of it and breathed it in deeply.

  “I’m sorry, Margaret,” he said softly. “You deserved better than this. Sleep in peace, darling.”

  He rose to his feet, and scattered the dirt, before continuing to walk in the direction of Helen’s cottage. Clement’s ring was in his pocket, and his patted it with his hand as he walked up to the closed door of the house. He paused a moment, then lifting his fist, knocked on the door. The scraping of a chair could be heard from within, and a moment later the door was being pulled open a few inches as Helen peered through the gap, her eyes swollen and red. She pulled the door open further when she saw who it was, and then she was reaching for him.

  “Max,” she whispered, “you came back.” She grabbed his forearms with her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean what I said. Margaret was dead …” She took in a deep, shuddering breath and angrily swiped her hand over her face, before looking up at him. “I didn’t think to see you again,” she said. “I said some terrible things, but Max, please know that I didn’t mean them.”

  Max glanced away. “I came back because I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. “Do you recognize this?” he asked. Helen’s eyes grew wide as her gaze darted to Max then back at the ring. She reached out a hand, paused, then took the ring from between Max’s fingers.

  “It was my husband’s,” she whispered. “I gave it to Clement.” She closed her hand over the ring and looked up at Max. “How did you get this?” she said.

  “One of the sailors who traveled with him gave it to me,” Max said. “He said your son died of a fever on the islands.”

  “He made it to the spice islands?”

  Max nodded. “He did. The sailor I spoke to said that he died very quickly, and they gave him a Christian burial.”

  Helen closed her eyes. “Good. That’s good.” She opened them again. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome, Mistress,” he said. He stared down at her for a moment before stepping away, but she grabbed him with her hands.

  “Please,” she said, “don’t go. Stay. Just for a while.”

  Max glanced away, unsure. In the distance he could see the spray of the ocean as waves crashed behind the dunes. He turned back to Helen. “Just for a while, then.”

  She nodded and led him into the house. “Are you hungry? Can I give you something?”

  Max shook his head. “Thank you, Mistress, but I’m fine.” She nodded and took a seat, staring down at her hands. “How did Margaret’s mother take the news?” Max asked.

  Helen looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “She fainted dead away when they told her. It has only been a year since she lost her husband. But she doesn’t have time for grief. There are other children to be cared for.”

  Max nodded. “I didn’t hurt Margaret,” he said.

  Helen drew in a shuddering breath. “I know,” she said, “I don’t know why I said what I said. I knew –”

  Max reached over and placed his hand on hers. “It’s all right, I understand,” he said. And he realized in surprise as he said the words that they were true. He did understand. It didn’t completely remove the hurt, but it did take away the sting. “Has the murderer been discovered?”

  Helen shook her head. “No. They found a knife, but it could belong to anyone.” She looked up at him. “Who would do such a thing?” she whispered. “She was just a child.”

  Max was silent for a moment. Margaret had mentioned the gold, but not a name. “Monsters come in all shapes and forms,” he finally said.

  Max stayed with Helen for the rest of the morning, and when he left, he promised that he would return the next day. He waved as he left the cottage, then turned on the path towards the forest in the distance. As he walked, a strange sense of disquiet came over him and he turned to look back at the cottage. Helen had already gone back inside, closing the door, and all was quiet. After a moment he turned and continued walking, but the niggling feeling remained, and after a few more minutes he turned back on the path and quickly headed the way he had come. A shout broke the silence, and he started running, rounding the path to see Quentin grappling with Helen outside the cottage.

  “Tell me where it is,” he shouted. He was gripping Helen with one hand, while in his other he brandished a dagger. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he yelled, “but you must tell me.” Max ran faster, his feet pounding the dirt, and Quentin spun around. “You,” he gasped as Helen broke free and ran into the cottage. She slammed the door shut and Max heard the sound of the bar dropping. He grabbed Quentin by the wrist and squeezed until the blade fell from his grasp.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Quentin pleaded. “I just need the money. They will kill me otherwise.”


  “What about Margaret?” Max said. “She was just a child.”

  A look of alarm crossed Quentin’s face as he looked away. “It was an accident,” he whispered. “I just wanted her to tell me what she knew, but she tried to run away.”

  “So you killed her.”

  “I grabbed her as she tried to run, and when she stumbled, she fell against the knife. I didn’t mean for her to die.”

  “So a child lies dead in her grave and a woman sits frightened in her house because you wanted gold.”

  “Please,” he said, “I didn’t mean it. I just need the money.”

  Max laughed dryly as he glanced back at the cottage. He could see Helen peeping through the shutters. He wrapped his hand around Quentin’s neck and dragged him towards the beach, behind the dunes, before throwing him onto the sand.

  “Do you know what I am?” he said. Quentin shook his head, his eyes wide with terror. “People call me a monster,” Max said, “but it is you who is the monster.” Quentin gasped as flames sprung into Max’s eyes. “You have a choice,” Max said. “Either I turn you over to the village, who will revile and curse you for killing a child and threatening a widow, before hanging you from the gibbet, or,” Max paused, “you can let the monster kill you and do what he wants with your remains.”

  “But,” Quentin was visibly quaking, “my wife. My family.”

  “Either way your wife will be a widow, and your children fatherless. What do you want their last memory of you to be?”

  Quentin stared at Max for a moment, his breathing shallow as his heart pounded furiously, then quickly glanced around the beach. “You cannot escape,” Max said dryly.

  “Please, I don’t want to die,” Quentin pleaded.

  “You should have considered that before you accosted a child with a knife, taking her life.”

  “Just let me go.” Quentin shifted onto his knees before Max and clasped his trembling hands together. “Please, I’ll go far away and never come back.”

  Max laughed dryly. “You’d run like the coward you are.” He turned to look at the ocean, crashing against the shore. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I’ll give you a head start. If you can outrun me, or hide from me, you live. If not, you die and the monster will eat you.” Quentin shuddered, then scrambling to his feet, started running. Max watched him as he stumbled on the loose sand, heading towards the trees. Max pulled off his tunic and laid it on a rock, then pulled off his breeches. Quentin had disappeared from sight, but Max stood a moment on the beach, feeling the sun against his skin. There was a bright flare of light as he changed his form, and he lifted himself languorously into the sky. He could smell Quentin’s trail of fear, and he followed it to where his prey was hiding behind a tree. He was watching the path and didn’t see Max approach from the air, and when the dragon slammed into him, he didn’t even have time to wonder what happened before darkness overcame him and he breathed his last.