The Dragon of Summer

by Patricia White

  She couldn’t answer that, not yet. “That, sir, is none of your concern.” Fighting back the wave of anger and pain that almost choked her, Tessa assumed her most regal pose and said, her voice as arrogantly regal as her stance, “I meet the criteria, let me pass. It is Midsummer’s Eve. I am both princess and virgin. With scrolls given to the High Priest that prove both.”

  He chuckled. “As to that, wench, I don’t know the straight of it. Herself’s appetite’s been a bit pecky of late. I don’t want the likes of you upsetting her stomach. To tell the truth, she favors princesses with a little more meat on . ”

  A voice, drifting down from above, interrupted and chided him gently. “Luther, dear heart, I know thou speak from naught but anger and pain, but the princess bears no blame. Please, sound the gong. Let the priests know I have found the offering acceptable. Then I will show myself in the evening sky.”

  Luther said, sounding as if his heart was breaking, “You can’t . ”

  The dragon spoke quietly but firmly. “Thou knowest I must.”

  His scarred face gaunted by emotion, Luther turned away from Tessa, giving her a brief glimpse of his broad back. It lasted less than a second, but it was enough time for her to see the whip marks that that crossed and recrossed in ropy white scars, standing stark against the darkness of his skin.

  Wanting to question him, but not daring to speak that words that would brand him for what he was—an escaped slave—she took a shallow breath and held it.

  Luther ignored her. Plucking it from some hidden crevice in the stone, he lifted a mighty hammer. With a despairing look toward the dragon’s lair, he swung the hammer, slamming its head into what Tessa thought was naught but canyon wall.

  A gong boomed in a wild cacophony of sound.

  It was nearly loud enough to rattle her very bones, but Tessa forgot her discomfort, her fear, and Luther. Mouth open, eyes round, she stared in breathless awe at the great dragon, ghostly pale, a faded wraith, but incredibly beautiful, spread translucent wings and leaped from the ledge into the sky.

  Her leap was nearly soundless, a bare whisper through the air, but the keening that followed was a lament so haunting in its terrible loneliness that it brought new tears to Tessa’s eyes—tears for a dragon’s song of sorrow. And she couldn’t stop herself asking, “Why is she crying like . ”

  Sounding surprised, Luther interrupted with a question of his own. “You can hear her?”

  “I’m not deaf. Of course, I can hear her. What wrong with . ”

  He interrupted again, grating out words that were raw with anger. Strong anger that couldn’t come close to hiding the sadness that lay beneath each one. “You’re killing her, that’s all!”

  Tessa was the virgin sacrifice, the offering that was supposed to keep Summer safe from the dragon for yet another year. But he sounded as if she were somehow at fault, was to blame for some unknown knavery. No understanding at all, she asked, “Me? Killing the dragon? How? What have I done?”

  His voice harsh with bitterness, Luther snarled, “You’re a princess. That’s enough. Too blasted much!”

  “But . ”

  “I don’t want to . ” His shoulders slumped, and there was only weariness in his voice, old weariness, when he said, “Go on up and wait in the cave. Herself will tell you what needs telling when she gets back.” He paused for a long moment before he added, “If she has strength enough to even get back.”

  “What do you mean? Is she . ”

  Ignoring both her and her questions, he whirled around, strode to the Dragon Gate, jerked it open, and faded into nothingness. And he did it all before Tessa could do much more than close her mouth, blink a time or two, and take a gulp of sulfur-tainted air.

  She knew he hadn’t really been there, was only an illusion, but still his unnatural departure scraped across her already raw nerves. Forcing her unwilling body to respond, she walked through the gate. Heard it close behind her with an ominous and terribly final thunk.

  Pausing for only a second, she took her first step up the sharp-edged black stair. Knowing if she stopped, she would never start again, she just kept climbing. Panting for breath, dizzy with effort, and tired enough to welcome being eaten by a dragon, it seemed as if she climbed forever.

  She muttered, “By the time I get to the top, I’ll be ready for dinner. Even if it is a dragon’s dinner, with me on the trencher.”

  But, at that, she reached the top too soon. Trying to slow her pounding heart, to gird herself with what few scraps of courage she left, Tessa hesitated near the mouth of the cave.

  She didn’t know where he had come from, but the next instant, Luther was screaming hoarsely. “She’s coming in too fast! Get off the ledge!”

  Tessa heard his words, but her attention was on something else: the whistle of air, the ineffectual flap of wings. She looked up.

  Moving with a speed that gave lie to his bulk, Luther leaped to where she stood. With absolutely no attempt at gentleness, he grabbed her by the arm, lifted her up. Then, without even pausing to take a breath, he threw her into the cave with a fury and a strength that sent her flying threw the air like a stone from a siege engine.

  Twisting and turning through the air, arms and legs flailing wildly, Tessa, Princess Royal of the Outer Isles, landed in total darkness. Landed on something that felt like fine-grained sand. And she didn’t land easily. Or painlessly.

  “Ohhh! Ouch! Ah!” The fall left her stunned, gasping for breath, and hurting. She felt like she had more scrapes and bruises than she had ever suffered in her entire life. But, her own sorry state didn’t keep her from hearing the dragon come down, drop heavily to the stone ledge. Her voice, even in its terrible weakness, was the most beautiful Tessa had ever heard, so beautiful that just hearing it made Tessa’s throat ache.

  “Luther, dear one,” the dragon said, “I fear I must, once again, ask thee to lend thy strength, aid me in the final steps of this journey.”

  The slithery, raspy sound of the dragon’s slow movements sent a shiver up Tessa’s spine, renewed her fear of what was to come. She caught her breath when a light appeared from somewhere, illuminating what should have been a cave as dark as the obsidian cliff that housed it, but wasn’t. Tessa had no time to ponder the strangeness. She had other, more important, things to occupy her mind.

  Not exactly touching her, Luther was walking close by the dragon’s front leg, apparently guiding her toward a hollowed out portion of the cave’s floor. As they walked, he was murmuring to the great beast.

  Tessa couldn’t put true meaning to his words, but she suspected he was telling the dragon that soon she would be having a princess for dinner. And, beside that ever growing fear was the fact that he was pouring his strength into the beast. That, she knew for sure; she could smell the magic. The odor wasn’t unpleasant, but it added greatly to her fear.

  “It isn’t far now,” he murmured to the dragon. “Soon you can rest and eat. Food will give you back some of your strength.”

  Shaking, unable to keep from staring, Tessa scooted backward across the sand until she reached the wall. There, she pulled herself slowly upright and stood on legs that didn’t want to support her. Stood trembling and swaying and listened to the man as he gently coaxed the dragon toward her resting place.

  “Just a few more steps. Slowly. There now.”

  Swallowing hard, Tessa wanted to act as a princess should, but all she could do was stand and stare. And try to breathe. Nothing she saw made her feel any less fear.

  The huge dragon was obviously ill. Although folded against her body, her beautiful wings were slack, oddly colorless. Her iridescent scales were gray, dull, without luster or sheen. And she was thin, deathly thin, little more than bone held together by skin.

  The dragon finally settled into her nest. She lay there for a minute or two, just breathing, and then she lifted her head scant inches above her outstretched forelegs, looked straight at Tessa for the first time, and sighed heavily. She spoke. Her beautiful voice
was threaded with weariness and some other emotion Tessa couldn’t put a name to.

  “Luther, the poor princess is terribly frightened. I wouldst not have it so, but I needs must rest for some small bit of time before . ”

  Her crested head eased back down. Her silvery eyes closed.

  Tessa thought she slept.

  Moving slowly, acting like he carried an entire mountain on his massive shoulders, Luther left the dragon and came to where Tessa waited. He said, speaking slowly as if the effort to form sounds was almost beyond his doing, “Princess, I have no time and no patience to waste on royal silliness. So, let’s get it over with now. Are you going to scream, faint, or just stand there like some addle-pated moon-calf?”

  The breath she had been holding dribbled out between her parted lips. Made dumb by his drawn face, the sorrow in his eyes, Tessa almost forgot to draw another.

  He was still scowling, but he cocked his head to one side, acted as if he were listening to something, and stepped away from her. He stood there for what seemed an eternity, looking beyond her, at whatever was hidden in an arms of the cave that angled off from the main body of the glittering caverns of limestone and crystal.

  Even though it was heard to hear anything over the violent pounding of her heart, Tessa listened too. She heard something, but she didn’t know what it was, or what it portended. Listen as she might, it was just a twitter of sound. Bird song? Lutes being strummed? A nest of baby dragons clamoring for food?

  Luther listened in silence, and then he turned back to her. His scowl was still very much intact. “Well,” he said, “what’s it going to be, Princess Tessa?”

  She didn’t know what he was asking her. Trying to find enough moisture in her mouth to make speech possible, she swallowed hard. Swallowed again. All while she was trying to find words to express her utter bewilderment. Finally, she managed to croak, “Awwwkkk.”

  Apparently it wasn’t an acceptable answer for the Guardian of the Dragon Gate. He snarled, “I told you I don’t have time to waste on princess silliness. It’s been long since a bite of food has passed Herself’s lips and I fear greatly that she will . ” Pausing for a moment, he looked at the sleeping dragon and sighed before he continued, his snarl replaced by infinite weariness. “I have to add new fuel to the fire before I cook her evening meal.”

  The dragon’s meals were cooked! It was a horrible thought! One that forced Tessa to blurt out what was uppermost in her fear-scrambled mind. “Are—are you going to kill me first?”

  “What?” Luther’s eyes, almost the same silver as the dragon’s, narrowed. His expression was murderous when he glared at Tessa and thundered, “Am I going to do what?”

  Somehow, she managed to stammer out, “K-k-kill me before you c-c-cook me?”

  Sounding incensed, he said, “Neither, you silly fool.”

  Swallowing again and pressing closer to the wall at her back, Tessa whispered, “Then what are you . I don’t . ”

  The bitterness was back in his deep voice when he said, “I’m going to send you back into the inner chambers. Give you a key to the treasure room. Allow you to play with the gold, array yourself in jewels to your heart’s content. And while you are doing that, I’ll cook the meal, serve it to Herself, you, and the others.”

  The dragon spoke softly. “Dear heart, I beg thee, do not grieve so. What must be, must be. Thou canst not change it with sorrow and anger.”

  His shoulders slumped. Drawing in a huge breath, Luther turned away from Tessa and walked slowly over to the large fireplace set into what had to be the cave’s outside wall. Kneeling, he emptied a shuttleful of coal onto the embers, used a bellows to draw out the flame, and then, moving slowly, he hoisted himself up to sit it on the raised hearth. Luther sat there, elbows on his knees, head resting on his palms, looking as if he hadn’t an ounce of strength left.

  After a time, he raised his head, sighed heavily, and looked at Tessa. “Using magic drains me. Makes my head ache like . ” He paused, went on to another subject, “I don’t supposed there’s any chance you might be able to . ”

  Interrupting himself, he sighed again, shook his head before he muttered,

  “No, of course not. I must be crazy to even think a princess might be able to do anything as useful as cooking.”

  Given her brother’s losing ways, necessity had taught Tessa more about food preparation than she had actually wanted to know. Now, the knowledge might prove valuable—if only to give her a few added moments of life. But before she did anything foolish, she needed to know what was going on. Who the others were. And how much her skill was worth to Luther. Licking her lips, she started, “Sir, I . ”

  Whatever else she intended to say died before it could get past her lips. She gulped in air, gathered her courage to try again. But only after warning herself to tread softly, watch her words. She knew that. Luther was testy. And from what she had garnered from living with her brother, it didn’t bode well for anyone to get too familiar with a testy man. Especially one in a position of authority.

  Still, if she was going to be eaten by the dragon anyway, whatever Luther might do was actually moot. Besides that, she was actually too tired to care much one way or the other. She swallowed and tried again, “Sir?”

  Luther looked at her. Tessa gave a proper curtsy—which lacked much in royal presentation when it was done in a short, very smelly tunic and a pair of dusty sandals.

  He started to say something, but she forestalled him by saying, “If I knew what it is you need done, I would be happy to come to your aid. Exactly who are the others you need to feed. Are they dragonets or . ”

  “They are princesses! One each for the past seventeen years. You bring the count to eighteen. Eighteen princesses!”

  There was no reason why he shouldn’t be telling the complete and total truth, but what he was saying made no sense at all. She had to know more. “Princesses? Seventeen more? But, I thought she . Didn’t she eat them?”

  Sputtering with indignation, ready to defend the dragon from canard and insult. “Eat them? By the Great Egg! You are even sillier than . ” He glared at her and, for just a moment, she thought he might do her physical harm.

  Instead, he vented his anger in words. “Princess Tessa, do you really think she is as ignorant and barbaric as you are? If you, and those misbegotten priests knew anything at all, you’d know Dragons, such as Herself, do not eat the flesh of any creature. She is a vegetarian. A total vegetarian.”

  “Oh,” the word sort of jumped out of her open mouth. Tessa wasn’t sure what she felt was relief. Unless Luther was playing some sort of ugly game, she wasn’t going to be eaten by a dragon. But, if that wasn’t what the future held in store, then what? She had to know? Taking in a deep breath, she straightened her back and gathered her courage. “If we aren’t food, why does the dragon keep the princesses the priests send in every Midsummer?”

  He snorted. “Because she can’t get rid of you, that’s why?”

  His words only confused her more. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Patience practically oozed from his explanation. “You have no place else to go. As far as your worlds are concerned, you are all dead.”

  “But, couldn’t you or the dragon explain that she doesn’t . ”

  “They are too fearful to listen to Herself, and I can’t leave here any more than the rest of you can. The blasted priests and their wizards, in their zeal to serve her, have made very sure of that.”

  “How?”

  “They weren’t lying to you, Princess Tessa, when they said the tunnel leads only in, never out.” He wiped his hand across his face and sighed heavily before he said, acting as if each word was wrenched from his soul. “She has to keep you here, take care of every blasted one of you . ” His voice dropped to an agonized whisper, “Even if it costs her own life.”

  “But that’s . ”

  Luther brooked no interruptions. He was determined to finish what he felt needed saying. He stood up, pointed a massiv
e forefinger at Tessa and said, his voice soft, “No one appreciates the fact, but dragons have a sense of honor, too, you know.”

  He sounded so sad that Tessa was hard put not to walk over, pat his shoulder, and tell him everything was going to be all right. She did, in fact, take a single step in that direction before she came to her senses. Only to lose them again when she gave herself a mental shake, looked toward the dragon, and saw the wisps of smoke that issued from the dragon’s mouth even when she was sleeping.

  If she had to stay in the cavern, she had to do something to make it a little more inviting. “Sir,” she said, “I’m not very good at it, but if you want me to, I can help with the cooking.”

  The witch light, or whatever it was that brought light to the cave, brightened. It revealed the gaping mouth of the blackened fireplace and the crusted, shabby iron pot setting off to one side. It was small, black with soot, and almost as ugly as Luther.

  When she saw it, Tessa whispered, “Oh.”

  Lips parted, she stared at it, blinked back tears, rubbed her eyes, and shivered with recognition. It was Sepeth’s Cauldron. It had to be. The magic kettle that had belonged to her mother, her mother’s mother, and all the mothers before that.

  The magical artifact Tessa’s brother had taken as his own and gambled away.

  The very sight of it made her want to weep anew for all that had been lost, could never be regained. Not for all the material things, but for the love and trust. And for her mother, the Sorceress of Winter, who had cursed the Outer Isles, the kingdom her son had lost in a game of chance. That done, she had walked into the sea, walked deep enough and far enough to destroy her magic and take her life.

  Her throat aching with sorrow, Tessa took a shaky breath and looked at Luther.

  He was staring at her with unblinking silver eyes, and the huge man was grinning, like a very small boy who has just been granted the wish closest to his heart.

  Seeing the Cauldron, and him beside it, grinning like a fool, unnerved her. She wasn’t sure why he was looking at her so, or why he hadn’t been using the magic kettle to feed them all, but unknowing couldn’t stop her. She walked across the sandy floor, stopped when he was only a few paces away. “What is it you want me to do? The kettle will not obey me, but whatever else you want, I will try to do.”