by Jags, Chris
“And has the other matter been attended to?” the king inquired.
Tiera pounced. “What other matter?”
Her father’s expression brooked no further inquiry. “It is none of your concern.”
Tiera scowled. She loathed being shut out of the kingdom’s affairs, affairs she would one day be called upon to manage. As for the general, he nodded curtly.
“The wolf is sated, Majesty.”
Try as she might, Tiera couldn’t translate this, nor was it the first time the king and his general had spoken similarly. Her frown deepened.
“Very good, Gharletto. In regards to the peasant lad, I have confidence that your next report will be much more satisfactory.”
“Majesty. Princess.” The Guard Captain nodded at each of them and stumped back the way he’d come, out of the hall. Tiera’s eyes followed him in narrowed dislike. She turned impulsively to her father.
“I wish he’d show me a little more respect, father.”
“That man has done more for the security of this kingdom than any other man alive,” her father returned, his usual song. “We must make allowances for exceptional service.”
Not when I rule, Tiera promised herself again. There will be no allowances. The people will understand the value of royal blood, from the lowest to the greatest. Those who will not bow will be hacked off at the knees.
“If there is nothing more which requires my attention,” she said coldly, rising, “I will be in my chambers.”
Minus held up a hand. “There is one thing.”
Tiera paused, curious.
“I would speak with my daughter alone.”
Resentfully, the nobles in attendance bowed and filed out of the chamber. Few of them bothered to wait until they were out of sight to start whispering behind their fans. When the doors closed behind the last of them, Tiera’s father beckoned to one of his servants, who hurried forward with a cushion draped in burlap, atop which lay a sword… or what remained of one. The metal looked to have been corroded, burned, and melted simultaneously; Tiera couldn’t see how it could be of any use or interest to her.
“What is that ludicrous thing?” she snapped.
“That,” her father returned, with the faintest echo of a smile, “Is the sword which slew the dragon.”
Tiera wasn’t enjoying the continual reminders of the humiliating moment when a peasant had scorned her. “So?”
“The man who wielded it had earned your hand in marriage.”
Resisting the urge to stamp her foot, Tiera was unable to keep the asperity from her voice. “Yes. Well, we know how that went.”
“Indeed. But think, daughter. The man who wields it has earned your hand in marriage.”
Tiera paused. Immediately she understood the possibilities. “But were there not witnesses when Si… the peasant returned from the mountain?”
Minus chuckled. “You underestimate my foresight, daughter. Your hopeful, would-be suitors are still being held at the camp, in the event that I was forced to manipulate events. They will be eliminated. We kept the lad’s victory a secret. Those soldiers whom Gharletto is even now disposing of were to have been murdered when our agents, in the guise of bandits, stormed the inn where we were housing our guest and put him to death. His escape threw my plans into some confusion, but most of the loose ends have been tied up all the same.”
“The innkeeper?”
“Had no idea who his guest was, only that he was a person of interest to the throne. I have used his services in the past. He takes no interest in his guests’ comings, goings, or disappearances.”
“And you trust the nobles…” she sneered, “to hold their tongues?”
“I have taken precautions,” the king returned.
“Then I could choose anyone I fancied.”
“Within reason, provided they benefit the throne, now and in the future. Prince Anton Stallix of Quell is visiting us imminently to discuss a new trade agreement. You might find him an agreeable match, if it can be arranged.”
Possibly, Tiera conceded with a dispassionate shrug, thinking of Quell’s magnificent diamond mines. But not because you say so. She reached out to touch the sword.
“No, daughter. I would not touch the blade.” Her father lifted his hand. “Even Lieutenant Thornton had the sense not to touch it without gloves. The dragon’s blood may still be active…”
Don’t tell me what to do. Ignoring him, Tiera lifted the sword, turning it this way and that. It was heavy and she replaced it quickly, though not before experiencing a small thrill of power. “Very interesting. I will think on Prince Anton.” Her eyes dropped to a diamond bracelet which encircled her thin wrist. “I will hang onto the sword for now, then.” She took the cushion from the servant.
“That would be entirely unnecessary…”
“I will hang onto it,” she repeated sweetly, inclining her head and retreating from her father. Farrow hurried along behind her as she swept from the room and out into the hall. The notion of using the sword to secure a respectable marriage of her choosing had its merits. She knew she didn’t have long to make such a decision, as the body of the dragon would have to be put on display before it rotted. But she had another use for the sword, and no matter what her father said, she was determined not to be denied. There was one way, one poetic way to soothe her ruffled feathers and make this whole fiasco right; more than one wolf to be sated.
She was going to ram the damn thing straight through Simon Dragonslayer’s insolent head.
V
For all the trauma of the preceding twenty-four hours, morning would have dawned magically for Simon had he not been so concerned about his future as a fugitive. He was awake with the sun’s first tentative rays, his eyes drifting immediately to the peacefully breathing, naked young woman in his arms.
Niu had chosen the islet. Her night vision was vastly superior to Simon’s. Following an exhausting swim, they’d hauled themselves ashore and secreted themselves in a small, fern-shrouded hollow. Ever pragmatic, Niu had stripped off and demanded that he follow suit, with the object of huddling together for warmth. Simon had peeled off his sodden attire – mostly. Try as he might to conquer his bashfulness, he’d been unable to justify the removal of his breeches. This was in part due to anxiety, in part because – exposed to such temptation - he hadn’t trusted his body to react in an appropriately gentlemanly fashion.
“Have you never seen a woman naked before?” Niu had inquired, in her dry, precise way as he wrung out her cloak and draped it over a low-hanging branch.
“Of course I have,” Simon had blustered, unable to meet her questioning gaze. Rolling her eyes, though her lips curved with the slightest hint of a smile, Niu snuggled up to him regardless.
Trying as the day had been, Simon had never felt so rewarded. Niu had drifted into slumber swiftly and easily, but sleep had eluded Simon for a time, hyper-aware as he was of her body pressed to his own. For the first time, he began to believe that the whole fiasco with the dragon had been worthwhile. He’d fought his exhaustion for a time, just to relish the moment, but eventually succumbed to his fatigue. Throughout the night, he’d twitched in and out of sleep, but nothing sinister had disturbed them. Once, Niu had slipped away, and his mind instantly began to churn. Had something, some noise, startled her? Had the guards located them? Was she abandoning him? His momentary alarm began to lapse as he realized she was probably just attending to bodily needs, but he was unable to relax until she’d returned and nestled beside him once more.
Gently disentangling himself from the handmaiden, Simon stood and gazed down at her sun-dappled body, committing the moment to memory. He wondered if all the women of Jynn were so willowy. By comparison, the average Cannevish woman was positively robust. Daylight revealed a secret he hadn’t noticed during the night: the tattoo of a small, unfamiliar bird adorning her lower back. Its diamond tail directly overlapped her own tailbone, while colorfully inked wings arched invitingly wide, framing her trim hindquarters. S
imon wondered for whose pleasure such a private thing had been intended, and experienced an electric pang of jealousy.
Giving his head a shake to clear it, he turned to examine his tunic, which was still uninvitingly damp. Cautiously, he parted the canopy of ferns and looked out over the lake.
No visible guard boats patrolled the waters, and to Simon’s surprise the heavily-forested shore was much closer than he’d imagined. Within wading distance, he judged. Most patrols would assume that, had they swum this far, they would have continued on to the shore. No doubt that had been Niu’s line of thought when she’d chosen it. Simon had been half-drowned when he’d crawled ashore last night, paying scant attention to the specifics of his location. He really wasn’t doing a very good job of saving the two of them.
Chancing detection, he clambered out of the hollow and down onto the shore. As he’d suspected, the water separating the islet from the mainland was no more than waist deep. He saw no sign of human habitation, not even a trail, which was encouraging. Still, who knew where a patrol might show up, particularly now that the alarm had been sounded? Simon was anxious to get moving. Crouching at the water’s edge, he splashed his face; cupping his hands, he drank. The water was cold and bitter with the taste of the red kellweed which clung to the plain of submerged rocks, waving listlessly.
Some minutes later, he heard rustling beyond the curtain of ferns and Niu joined him. She was wrapped in her traveling cloak and offered Simon his own clothes.
“It would be best to carry them to shore,” she said. She looked bright and alert, leading Simon to wonder if she’d truly been asleep when he’d been studying her earlier. “We do not wish to get soaked once more.”
Simon nodded. The water was uninviting, and he felt he would have been better prepared to face the day on a full stomach. Still, breakfast wasn’t just going to serve itself, and the more distance he put between himself and Vingate the better.
“Go on,” Niu urged. Simon smiled tightly and waded into the lake, hugging his damp clothes to his chest. The weed-smothered rocks were slick and treacherous beneath his bare feet. Niu hitched her cloak up to her waist and followed.
At any moment, Simon expected the shrubs lining the shore to come alive with guardsmen. He wondered if they would fill him full of arrows where he stood, or haul him back to Vingate for execution. Step by step, as he drew near the bank, his anxiety mounted. Nothing stirred. The lazy hum of early-rising insects competed with waves lapping lightly at the shoreline to be the only sounds to break the stillness. Heart in mouth, he waded ashore.
Niu joined him shortly thereafter, allowing her cloak to fall back into place. Simon thought wistfully of their little cocoon on the offshore islet and what might it be like to wake next to Niu every morning. The warmth of that thought was driven from his mind by the shuddering chill which shivered through his body. The lake had frosted his very bones. At least the sun’s rays would warm him; the nearly cloudless sky predicted a fine, clear day.
He and Niu dried off on a large, flat rock, obscured from sight by a ring of bushes. Simon considered the journey ahead – wherever they were headed – and thought wistfully of his abandoned boots. Niu, brushing debris from the soles of her feet, seemed to be thinking along similar lines.
“We will need to find supplies,” she said, scanning the lake for boats. “Where is the nearest village?”
Simon wracked his brains for a moment. “Saber Bend, a little to the northwest. But if the King’s men are looking for us, they’ll have reached it by now. And I have no coin.”
“Well, we are not going to buy the supplies,” Niu’s crisp voice was lightly colored with exasperation. Simon wasn’t sure how he’d annoyed her this time. So his mind hadn’t immediately jumped to theft; why should that irritate her? Being a fugitive was entirely new to him. He’d originally embarked upon this nightmare quest to become a hero, not a criminal.
“Where will we go after that?”
Her eyes rolled skyward. “I was hoping that you would tell me. This land is strange to me. I know little of it outside the palace.” Brow furrowed, she considered him darkly. “Remember, I came to find you for your assistance.”
“Sorry,” Simon said automatically. “Well… we could go to Brand. My father’s village where I live.”
Frustrated, Niu kicked the rock with her heel. “Right. The king will never think to look for you in your home village.”
Simon fell silent. The wheels in his head turned, his father had once told him, just a bit more slowly than they did with other folk. You’re not a simpleton, Simon, he would say, but you can on occasion be a fool. One day your thoughtlessness will get you killed. Or worse, me.
He sat bolt upright. “Father!” he gasped.
“What now?” Niu asked. She was examining her fingernails with a deep frown.
“The King’s men! They may punish him for what I’ve done.”
Niu shrugged. “It is likely.”
“I have to go to him.” Simon sprang up and began to pull on his clothes, damp pants over wet britches. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but Simon’s mind was far away.
“So that the King may capture you, as well?” Niu’s tongue practically dripped acid.
“It doesn’t matter!” Simon gasped as he dragged his tunic down over his disheveled mop of hair. “I caused this. I have to fix it.”
Niu smiled slightly. “Well,” she said at length. “At least you are showing some resolve at last. But you cannot blunder head first into your hometown, as the King and his men will expect. You must show some…” She struggled for a word in his language. “Strategy.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You will not.”
“It’s my business.”
“You made it mine,” Niu reminded him forcefully, “When you dragged me into it.”
Simon looked at his feet. That was true enough. “I’ll help you,” he told her. “I’ll help you go wherever it is you want to go, even if that’s back to Jynn.” Wherever that is. “But first I have to be sure my father’s safe.”
Niu stood. “That is fair. Let us be on our way. First, we will go to this village, this Saber Bend. We will get ourselves some shoes and supplies.”
“Alright,” Simon said.
The journey was far from pleasant. Leaving beach and road behind, they were forced to pick their way through the forest barefoot. Simon, his soles somewhat calloused from long hours spent in hard leather boots, fared better than Niu, whose feet were soft from palace life and, before long, bleeding. She didn’t complain, but she wasn’t happy, especially when Simon informed her of the jaggermunds which lurked in the depths of central Cannevish’s forests. Be alert, he warned her, for a soft whistling sound. That’s all the indication you’ll get that you’re about to become dinner.
Jaggermunds aside, the forest was deeply oppressive. The trees grew close together, their branches lacing to create a relentless, unending canopy. Sunlight navigating the tangle of branches with enough determination to reach the forest floor was an extreme rarity; there was simply no break in the ocean of leaves. Even trees long dead still hung upright, suspended by their living neighbors in a parody of life. Beneath this vast umbrella of gloom, only fungi grew.
Simon’s already fractured mood deteriorated swiftly. His clothes stubbornly refused to dry; he was unarmed; and he was afraid for his father, his hometown, and his future. His woodcraft was poor; not so much as one who’d lived all their lives in a city like Vingate, but enough so that he couldn’t be absolutely positive that he wasn’t going in circles. More than once, as the distant snap of a twig set his nerves on edge - predatory beast or guardsman? - he cursed the impetuousness which had led him to this moment.
While Niu didn’t grumble about their general situation, she did occasionally unleash an impressive stream of invective in her own language whenever she stubbed her toes or scratched her soles on some hidden hazard. If her native tongue was at all melodious, it certainly didn’t come across that
way when the speaker was furious. Her spirits were sinking quickly and she brushed off all attempts at conversation. Nor did she seem encouraged when they stumbled across a narrow, heavily-rutted road, even as a reprieve from the claustrophobic monotony of the forest.
“It’s most likely the road to Saber Bend,” Simon informed her. “We should follow it.”
“Of course we should,” Niu responded irritably. “But we cannot walk upon it. We cannot be seen, and must remain amongst the trees.”
Simon nodded, disheartened.
Niu’s decision proved wise. As they slipped through the trees, keeping the road in sight, they heard distant laughter and the clopping of hooves from the direction of Saber’s Bend. Shortly thereafter, a cart rattled past, bearing several of the King’s soldiers.
“At least they’re leaving,” Simon noted. “Maybe they just searched the village and told the headman about us.”
“Perhaps,” Niu conceded, “But it is likely that they stationed one or two men there. In any event, the people will have been warned about us, including the local lawmakers.”
Simon couldn’t gainsay her. How wondered how highwaymen and bandits could stand their outlaw status. He hadn’t been a fugitive for a full day yet, and already he loathed it.
They crept through the forest until the trees began to thin. Grateful for the sun’s blessing, straggly grass began to carpet the ground in patches. Following some hours of monotony, Simon spotted a small log cabin through the trees, an outlier, he hoped, for the village itself. It was a compact, comfortable looking dwelling, a home rather than a house. The sight of it elicited a powerful wave of regret. He could imagine raising a family in such a cabin.