A Fate of Dragons

by Morgan Rice

  Since he had first seen her, Erec had been able to think of little else. Who was this girl, he wondered, who seemed so noble, yet worked as a servant in the Duke’s court? Why had she fled from him so hastily? Why was it that, in all his years, with all the royal women he had met, this was the only one who had captured his heart?

  Being around royalty his entire life, the son of a king himself, Erec could detect other royalty in an instant—and he sensed from the moment he spotted her that she was of a much more regal position than the one she was occupying. He was burning with curiosity to know who she was, where she was from, what she was doing here. He needed another chance to set his eyes upon her, to see if he had been imagining it or if he would still feel the way he did.

  “My servants tell me she lives on the city’s outskirts,” the Duke explained, talking as they walked. As they went, people on all sides of the streets opened their shutters and looked down, amazed at the presence of the Duke and his entourage in the common streets.

  “Apparently, she is servant to an innkeeper. Nobody knows her origin, where she came from. All they know is that she arrived in our city one day, and became an indentured servant to this innkeeper. Her past, it seems, is a mystery.”

  They all turned down another side street, the cobblestone beneath them becoming more crooked, the small dwellings closer to each other and more dilapidated, as they went. The Duke cleared his throat.

  “I took her in as a servant in my court on special occasions. She is quiet, keeps to herself. No one knows much about her. Erec,” the Duke said, finally turning to Erec, laying a hand on his wrist, “are you certain about this? This woman, whoever she is, is just another commoner. You can have your choice of any woman in the kingdom.”

  Erec looked back at him with equal intensity.

  “I must see this girl again. I don’t care who she is.”

  The Duke shook his head in disapproval, and they all continued walking, turning down street after street, passing through twisting, narrow alleyways. As they went, this neighborhood of Savaria became even seedier, the streets filled with drunken types, lined with filth, chickens and wild dogs roaming about. They passed tavern after tavern, the screams of patrons carrying out into the streets. Several drunks stumbled before them, and as night began to fall, the streets began to be lit by torches.

  “Make way for the Duke!” screamed his lead attendant, rushing forward and finally pushing drunks out of the way. All up and down the streets unsavory types parted ways and watched, amazed, as the Duke passed, Erec beside him.

  Finally, they arrived at a small, humble inn, built of stucco, with a pitched, slate roof. It looked as if it could hold maybe fifty patrons in its tavern below, with a few rooms for guests above. The front door was crooked, one window was broken, and its entry lamp hung crookedly, its torch flickering, the wax too low. Screams of drunks spilled out the windows, as they all they stopped before the door.

  How could such a fine girl work in a place like this? Erec wondered, horrified, as he heard the shouts and jeers from inside. His heart broke as he thought of it, as he thought of the indignity she must suffer in such a place. It’s not fair, he thought. He felt determined to rescue her from it.

  “Why do you come to the worst possible place to choose a bride?” the Duke asked, turning to Erec.

  Brandt turned to him too.

  “Last chance, my friend,” Brandt said. “There is a castle full of royal women waiting for you back there.”

  But Erec shook his head, determined.

  “Open the door,” he commanded.

  One of the Duke’s men rushed forward and yanked it open. The smell of stale ale came out in waves, making him recoil.

  Inside, drunken men were hunched over the bar, seated along wooden tables, screaming too loudly, laughing, jeering and jostling each other. They were crude types, Erec could see that at once, with bellies too large, cheeks unshaven, clothes unwashed. None of them warriors.

  Erec took several steps in, searching the place for her. He could not possibly imagine that a woman like her could work in such a place. He wondered if maybe they had come to the wrong dwelling.

  “Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for a woman,” Erec said to the man standing beside him, tall and wide, with a big belly, unshaven.

  “Are you then?” the man yelled out, mocking. “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place! This is not a brothel. Although there is one across the street—and I hear the women there are fine and plump!”

  The man started laughing, too loudly, in Erec’s face, and several of his fellows joined in.

  “It is not a brothel I seek,” Erec answered, unamused, “but a single woman, one who works here.”

  “You must mean then the innkeeper’s servant,” called out someone else, another large, drunk man. “She’s probably in the back somewhere, scrubbing the floors. Too bad—I wish she were up here, on my lap!”

  The men all screamed out in laughter, overwhelmed with their own jokes, and Erec reddened at the thought of it. He felt ashamed for her. For her to have to serve all of these types—it was an indignity that was too much for him to contemplate.

  “And you are?” came another voice.

  A man stepped forward, wider than the others, with a dark beard and eyes, a deep scowl, a wide jaw, accompanied by several seedy men. He had more muscle on him than fat, and he approached Erec threateningly, clearly territorial.

  “Are you trying to steal my servant girl?” he demanded. “Out with you then!”

  He stepped forward and reached out to grab Erec.

  But Erec, hardened by years of training, the kingdom’s greatest knight, had reflexes beyond what this man could imagine. The moment his hands touched Erec, he sprang into action, grabbing his wrist in a lock, spinning the man around with lightning speed, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and shoving him across the room.

  The big man went flying like a cannonball, and he took several men out with him, all of them crashing to the floor of the small place like bowling pins.

  The entire room grew silent, as every man stopped and watched.

  “FIGHT! FIGHT!” the men chanted.

  The innkeeper, dazed, stumbled to his feet and charged for Erec with a shout.

  This time Erec did not wait. He stepped forward to meet his attacker, raised an arm, and brought his elbow straight down on the man’s face, breaking his nose as he charged.

  The innkeeper stumbled backwards, then collapsed, landing on the floor on his rear.

  Erec stepped forward, picked him up, and despite his size, hoisted him high above his head. He took several steps forward and threw the man, and he went flying through the air, taking half the room down with him.

  All the men in the room froze, stopping their chanting, growing quiet, starting to realize that someone special was among them. The bartender, though, suddenly came rushing forward, a glass bottle held high over his head, aiming right for Erec.

  Erec saw it coming and already had his hand on his sword—but before Erec could draw it, his friend Brandt stepped forward, beside him, drew a dagger from his belt, and held the tip of it out at the bartender’s throat.

  The bartender ran right into it and stopped cold, the blade just about to puncture his skin. He stood there, eyes wide open in fear, sweating, frozen in mid-air with the bottle. The room grew so silent at the standoff one could hear a pin drop.

  “Drop it,” Atme ordered.

  The bartender did so, and the bottle smashed on the floor.

  Erec drew his sword with a resounding ring of metal and walked over to the innkeeper, who lay moaning on the floor, and pointed it at his throat.

  “I will only say this once,” Erec announced. “Clear this room of all this riffraff. Now. I demand an audience with the lady. Alone.”

  “The Duke!” someone yelled.

  The whole room turned and finally recognized the Duke standing there, by the entrance, flanked by his men. All of them rushed to take off their caps and bow their
heads.

  “If the room is not clear by the time I finish speaking,” the Duke announced, “each one of you here will be imprisoned at once.”

  The room broke into a frenzy as all the men inside scurried to vacate, rushing past the Duke and out the front door, leaving their unfinished bottles of ale where they were.

  “And out with you, too,” Brandt said to the bartender, lowering his dagger, grabbing him by his hair and shoving him out the door.

  The room, which had been so rowdy moments before, now sat empty, silent, save for Erec, Brandt, the Duke, and a dozen of his closest men. They shut the door behind them with a resounding slam.

  Erec turned to the innkeeper, sitting on the floor, still dazed, wiping blood from his nose. Erec grabbed him by the shirt, hoisted him up with both hands, and sat him down on one of the empty benches.

  “You’ve ruined my business for the night,” the innkeeper whined. “You will pay for this.”

  The Duke stepped forward and backhanded him.

  “I can have you killed for attempting to lay a hand on this man,” the Duke scolded. “Do you not know who this is? This is Erec, the king’s best knight, the champion of The Silver. If he chooses to, he can kill you himself, right now.”

  The innkeeper looked up at Erec, and for the first time, real fear crossed his face. He nearly trembled in his seat.

  “I had no idea. You did not announce yourself.”

  “Where is she?” Erec demanded, impatient.

  “She’s in the back, scrubbing the kitchen. What is it that you want with her? Did she steal something of yours? She is just another indentured servant girl.”

  Erec drew his dagger and held it to the man’s throat.

  “Call her a ‘servant’ again,” Erec warned, “and you can be sure I will cut your throat. Do you understand?” he asked firmly as he held the blade against the man’s skin.

  The man’s eyes flooded with tears, as slowly he nodded.

  “Bring her here, and hurry about it,” Erec ordered, and yanked him to his feet and gave him a shove, sending him flying across the room, and towards the back door.

  As the innkeeper left, there came a clanging of pots from behind the door, muted yelling, and then, moments later, the door opened, and out came several women, dressed in rags, smocks and bonnets, covered in kitchen grease. There were three older women, in their sixties, and Erec wondered for a moment if the innkeeper knew who he was speaking of.

  And then, she came out—and Erec’s heart stopped in his chest.

  He could hardly breathe. It was her.

  She wore an apron, covered in grease stains, and she kept her head down low, ashamed to look up. Her hair was tied, covered in a cloth, her cheeks were caked with dirt—and yet still, Erec was smitten by her. Her skin was so young, so perfect. She had high, chiseled cheeks and jawbones, a small nose covered in freckles, and full lips. She had a broad, regal forehead, and her beautiful blonde hair spilled out from beneath the bonnet.

  She glanced up at him, just for a moment, and her large, wonderful almond-green eyes, which shifted in the light, changing to crystal blue then back again, held him rooted in place He was surprised to realize that he was even more mesmerized by her now than he had been when he’d first met her.

  Behind her, out came the innkeeper, scowling, still wiping blood from his nose. The girl walked forward tentatively, surrounded by these older women, towards Erec, and curtsied as she got close. Erec rose, standing before her, as did several of the Duke’s entourage.

  “My lord,” she said, her voice soft, sweet, filling Erec’s heart. “Please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sorry for whatever it is I have done to warrant the presence of the Duke’s court.”

  Erec smiled. Her words, her language, the sound of her voice—it all made him feel restored. He never wanted her to stop speaking.

  Erec reached up and touched her chin with his hand, lifting it until her gentle eyes looked at his. His heart raced as he looked into her eyes. It was like getting lost in a sea of blue.

  “My lady, you have done nothing to offend. I do not think you shall ever be able to offend. I come here not out of anger—but out of love. Since I saw you, I have been able to think of nothing else.”

  The girl looked flustered, and immediately dropped her eyes to the ground, blinking several times. She twisted her hands, looking nervous, overwhelmed. She was clearly unused to this.

  “Please my lady, tell me. What is your name?”

  “Alistair,” she answered, humbly.

  “Alistair,” Erec repeated, overwhelmed. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

  “But I do not know why it should serve you to know it,” she added, softly, still looking at the floor. “You are a Lord. And I am but a servant.”

  “She is my servant, to be exact,” the innkeeper said, stepping forward, nasty. “She is indentured to me. She signed a contract, years ago. Seven years is what she promised. In return, I give her food and board. She is three years in. So you see, this is all a waste of time. She is mine. I own her. You are not taking this one away. She is mine. Do you understand?”

  Erec felt a hatred for the innkeeper beyond what he had ever felt for a man. He was partly of a mind to draw his sword and stab him in the heart and be done with him. But however much the man may have deserved it, Erec did not want to break the King’s law. After all, his actions reflected on the king.

  “The King’s law is the King’s law,” Erec said to the man, firmly. “I don’t intend on breaking it. That said, tomorrow begin the tournaments. And I am entitled, as any man, to choose my bride. And let it be known here and now that I choose Alistair.”

  A gasp spread the room, as everyone turned to each other, shocked.

  “That is,” Erec added, “if she consents.”

  Erec looked at Alistair, his heart pounding, as she kept her face lowered to the floor. He could see that she was blushing.

  “Do you consent, my lady?” he asked.

  The room fell silent.

  “My Lord,” she said softly, “you know nothing of who I am, of where I am from, of why I am here. And I am afraid these are things I cannot tell you.”

  Erec stared back, puzzled.

  “Why can you not tell me?”

  “I have never told anyone since my arrival. I have made a vow.”

  “But why?” he pressed, so curious.

  But Alistair merely kept her face down, silent.

  “It’s true,” inserted one of the servant women. “This one’s never told us who she is. Or why she’s here. She refuses to. We’ve tried for years.”

  Erec was deeply puzzled by her—but that only added to her mystery.

  “If I cannot know who you are, then I shall not,” Erec said. “I respect your vow. But that will not change my affection for you. My lady, whoever you are, if I should win these tournaments, then I will choose you as my prize. You, from any woman in this entire kingdom. I ask you again: do you consent?”

  Alistair kept her eyes fixed to the ground, and as Erec watched, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Suddenly, she turned and fled from the room, running out and closing the door behind her.

  Erec stood there, with the others, in the stunned silence. He hardly knew how to interpret her response.

  “You see then, you waste your time, and mine,” the innkeeper said. “She said no. Be off with you then.”

  Erec frowned back.

  “She did not say no,” Brandt interjected. “She did not respond.”

  “She is entitled to take her time,” Erec said, in her defense. “After all, it is a lot at once. She does not know me, either.”

  Erec stood there, debating what to do.

  “I will stay here tonight,” Erec finally announced. “You shall give me a room here, down the hall from hers. In the morning, before the tournaments begin, I shall ask her again. If she consents, and if I win, she shall be my bride. If so, I will b
uy her out of her servitude with you, and she shall leave this place with me.”

  The innkeeper clearly did not want Erec under his roof, but he dared not say anything; so he turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Are you certain you wish to stay here?” the Duke asked. “Come back to the castle with us.”

  Erec nodded back, gravely.

  “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Thor plummeted down through the air, diving, racing head first for the churning waters of the Sea of Fire. He entered it and sunk down, immersed, and was startled to feel the water was hot.

  Beneath the surface, Thor opened his eyes briefly—and wished he hadn’t. He caught a glimpse of all manner of strange and ugly sea creatures, small and big, with unusual and grotesque faces. This ocean was teeming. He prayed they did not attack him before he could reach the safety of the rowboat.

  Thor surfaced with a gasp, and looked immediately for the drowning boy. He spotted him, and just in time: he was flailing, sinking, and in a few more seconds, surely he would have drowned.

  Thor reached around, grabbed him from behind by his collarbone, and began to swim with him, keeping both of their heads above water. Thor heard a whelp and a whine, and as he turned, he was shocked to see Krohn: he must have leapt in after him. He swam beside him, paddling up to Thor, whining. Thor felt terrible that Krohn was endangered like this—but his hands were full and there was little he could do.

  Thor tried not to look all around him, at the waters, churning red, at the strange creatures surfacing and disappearing all around him. An ugly looking creature, purple, with four arms and two heads, surfaced nearby, hissed at him, then submerged, making Thor flinch.

  Thor turned and saw the rowboat, about twenty yards away, and he swam for it frantically, using his one arm and his legs as he dragged the boy. The boy flailed and screamed, resisting, and Thor feared he might bring him down with him.