The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1)

by Kristina Hlaváčková

  “YES.”

  “We must be cautious.”

  “WITHOUT DOUBT.”

  “And the boy?”

  “SHE NEEDS A GUARDIAN.”

  To doubt a dragon’s judgment would be … disrespectful. And most of all, very, very dangerous. Ashrack being most capricious, it was vital to step lightly around him, Alivan knew. Even so, her pride gained the upper hand.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. Ashrack was silent. There was no uncertainty in her mind he knew what she was referring to.

  “YOU QUESTION MY JUDGEMENT?” This time, Alivan did not answer. She dared not reveal her thoughts, certain the dragon King would take offense.

  “IF YOU ARE ASKING WHY I GAVE HER THE POWER SHE HAS, YOUR QUERY IS UNDERSTANDABLE. I, HOWEVER, CANNOT ANSWER,” the dragon lapsed into a short silence and then continued: “IN MY DEFENSE, IT IS ONLY POWER HUMANS ALREADY POSSESS, THAT I CAN AWAKEN. I DO ADMIT, I WAS CURIOUS. HAD IT BEEN A MISTAKE, ONLY TIME WILL SHOW. I SHALL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR MY DEEDS.”

  “Nor do I ask you to,” answered Alivan hastily. “We must take measures to…"

  “DO NOT DARE TRY TO CONTROL HER!” he roared. Had he been standing in front of her, she would have taken a step backwards in fright. The conversation was over. Up in the rocks, high above the forest, Ashrack swished his tale angrily.

  ◆◆◆

  Failon reminded her very much of Aaron. Being relatively sturdy, for an elf, he moved through the forest as if he owned it. No, that was not correct. He moved through it as if he was part of the forest. As Elena was about to discover, he was unbelievably light-footed. Failon had a tendency to appear and disappear in an instant, without even a whisper of warning. His voice was very quiet and melodious. His shining silver hair reached to his waist and he wore it freely, only at his temples were the silvery strands tightly tied back, held in place by a silver ring.

  Elena followed him. because Failon was her teacher. Over the past week, she had spent almost all her days with him. Now he was leading her to his shack. He called it so, even though it was a very neat little house, fully covered by silvery bark and completely surrounded by herbs. The first time she saw it, she was surprised such a neat cabin could have such a messy garden. Well, to be honest, you could hardly call it a garden. The house was simply standing in the middle of the forest in danger of being overgrown with plants and all kinds of shrubs. Only after very scrupulous second and third looks, did Elena find order in all that chaos. All the plants were actually herbs, some healing, some poisonous. Every single bush was somehow useful.

  They walked in silence. At times, she had to run a few steps to be able to keep up with him. Michael hurried after her. When they reached his shack, Failon motioned them to sit and disappeared inside. Elena sat obediently, Michael dropped onto the stool next to her. They gave each other a silent look. Michael made a face. Emerging from the shack, Failon thrust two steaming bowls into their hands and sat opposite them.

  “I’m listening,” said he, quietly. He was doing it again. If he wanted to know something, couldn’t he just ask directly? Why, pray, did she first have to figure out what it was he wanted to know, before even getting a chance to answer? To gain time, Elena tasted the contents of her bowl. The gumbo had rootlets in it, lots of rootlets, a bit of meet and veggies, maybe. It was delicious. Just like anything Failon would cook. Even though the stuff usually looked odd and goofy, and she mostly ended up thinking it might be better not to know what was really floating in it. Reason being, some of the ingredients looked quite suspicious and probably came from Failon’s garden…

  Elena took a few bites, before she slowly began to tell her story. Failon sat with his arms folded on his chest, listening intently. He didn't even interrupt to ask questions. Not that he ever asked any. To her satisfaction, her explanation made far more sense than it did with Alivan. When Elena finished, Failon turned to Michael.

  “What?” Michael asked dully, his mouth full of gumbo. He hated Failon’s riddles. Failon waited.

  “What?” Michael asked again, even though things were beginning to dawn on him. Why should he make it easy on the elf? So he sat, chewing. His nerve held until his bowl was empty. Despite thinking it pointless, he also described what happened, but from his point of view.

  “It appears we do not understand one another.” Failon spoke long after Michael had finished and his voice was even quieter than usual. The two children glanced at each other.

  “I am profoundly disappointed. I would expect you to have more faith in me. After all, I am your teacher. It is highly desirable that I am well informed about everything happening around you, strange headaches included. To make myself absolutely clear, such mistrust of me shall not be tolerated again. I consider your conduct highly disrespectful.”

  Elena was turning the bowl in her hands. Michael sat like a wet hen, glaring at the ground. Both fidgeted.

  “I do apologize. I had no clue, what was happening,” Elena broke the silence after a minute or two. Or maybe three.

  “Which is exactly why you should have told me. If I am to teach you, you must trust me.” Failon reproved.

  “In fact, I thought it was a test of some kind,” Elena murmured. Failon gave her a long, piercing look, causing her ears go red. She hated people making her feel guilty and Failon was very good at doing just that.

  “To be honest with you, I am also impressed. There aren’t many able to communicate with the mind of this forest, and certainly none human.”

  Might be because I am not a pureblooded human, Elena thought, but said nothing. Bringing forth her pedigree would be improper. Especially today, since there had already been enough trouble and far too many awkward questions.

  “However, I must call to your attention that you were extremely lucky. Had what you did gone wrong, you would have ended up insane at best. Your attempt was truly, extremely unwise.” So far for the praise.

  “I knew what I was doing,” Elena tried to defend herself.

  “Indeed?”

  “Well, maybe, I more like felt what I should do. I knew it was something humongous. I knew I mustn’t let it inside my head, so I …” She made a set of slightly uncertain gestures. Some things were simply hard to put into words. Especially, when she was still feeling odd. And she was definitely not going to tell Failon that she still had moments when she felt like taking root, rustle her leaves on branches. And a bunch of ants was running up and down her bark. “… so I did the direct opposite. I found the mind and entered into it.” She wished she were able to explain it better, but it seemed impossible. The reason for that of course could have been that she was still fighting the many nuances of the elvish language. Failon watched her.

  “What was it like?” he inquired.

  “A relief, my head stopped hurting.” Elena smiled a bit. Failon waited. And waited. For what, that was what she would like to know. Did he want to hear something else, or what? Still, he waited.

  “Er …” she managed after a moment. “It felt like I was growing branches and leaves and had sap running through my wood?” Elena added uncertainly. Failon nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  “Could a human feel like tree, grass, ant, bear and a dung-beetle, all at the same time?”

  “Have you ever tried to listen to a bee?” Failon asked instead of an answer.

  “Hm. A bee is part of a swarm, when listening to one, you listen to them all.”

  “Shall that be the answer to your question.” Things would be so much easier, if Failon ever gave a straight answer! But his teeth would probably fall out if he did.

  “You said that to the forest, you reek of fire. I am not sure I understand. I am also not clear on how you explained otherwise.”

  Elena began to play with the chainlet around her neck. Failon watched her. She was fidgety. As usual, she had a hard time sitting still. It never took long before she started to play with something, having an invincible urge to do something with her hands.

  “Well, … I�
�m not sure I did. The forest finally came to the conclusion I was some kind of a weird dragon,” Elena mumbled. Her ears were going red again.

  “Now, that’s a good one!” Michael laughed. Failon gave him a look.

  “Well, we sort of had communication problems. The forest, … well, … does not really speak, it was as if it communicated in … pictures, feelings, echoes of your own thoughts. It was complicated,” Elena mumbled.

  “That gives speaking to flowers a whole new meaning.” Michael gave her a toothy smile. She grinned back at him.

  “You reek of fire. Anything else?” Failon asked, flatly ignoring their jokes. Elena shrugged her shoulders and protested: “But I can’t reek of fire!” Failon shook his head.

  “The masters of the sky are convinced you are of their blood. I am of the opinion that this part of you is what the forest senses within you. Besides, fire is very close to your heart, is it not?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Elena nodded, but what Failon was saying did not make much sense to her. The elf lapsed into a waiting silence again. It took Elena a few minutes to realize that there must have been some part of his question she hadn’t answered. Failon never asked a question twice. If he asked them at all, that is. Waiting for her to figure out what it was he wanted to know was always an option with him.

  “Er …” Elena began and stopped. Simply, she had no clue what to say, since she had no clue what it was she was to respond to. It irritated her to answer without knowing what exactly it was she was supposed to answer. As a result, she had a problem to concentrate.

  “I might have probed it the night we arrived,” she said and Failon waited.

  “I had an odd feeling something was watching me, so I sent my mind wandering and found a … consciousness. It scared me and I retreated.” Failon waited. Was it still not enough? Couldn’t he just say something?

  “Maybe, it too got scared,” Elena tried again. Failon remained silent.

  “I seriously don’t know what else you want to hear,” she added and because he still restricted himself to asking nothing, he did not get any more answers.

  ◆◆◆

  That day, Failon made a decision appreciated by neither of the children. So far, they had taken all their lessons together. Now, they were supposed to be separated for most of the time. The reason being? Michael needed to learn as much as possible to be able to guard Elena properly. Therefore, he needed to work on his fighting skills and all the other violent stuff, while most Elena’s lessons were to lead in a different direction. Elena tried to protest, but Failon’s single gesture, a mere lifting of an index finger, stopped her. His decisions we not to be discussed.

  “I saw a pygmy,” Elena spat out, suddenly realizing she wanted to ask about it. Failon gave her a piercing look of sky-blue eyes and waited.

  “A cheeky little rascal, he was. He was wearing something brown and had hobnailed boots. And a bald head,” Elena described the manikin. Once again, Failon did not answer.

  “What is he?” Either she was imagining things, or a hint of a searching look ran across Failon’s face.

  “Are you sure you did not imagine him?”

  This time Elena stood up, facing him with her hands on her hips. “It was you who said trust between us is of the essence. Should it not be mutual?” His patronizing approach irritated her enormously, as well as the striking absence of any kind of emotion on his side. Failon’s only answer was the same old stoic look of his sky-blue eyes.

  “Besides, that imagination of mine kicked me with a hobnailed boot and bit my finger. Look!” Elena stuck her finger right under Failon’s nose. He bent down to have a better look. Sure enough, there was an unmistakable half-circle of tiny bruises on her finger, looking just like a row of bite marks.

  “Interesting,” said Failon, straightening his back again. “That will be all, for today. You may leave now.” Elena glared at him. Ignoring her, the elf turned his back to her and walked towards the trees.

  “That guy gets on my nerves!” commented Michael very quietly.

  “It is necessary that you exercise your patience, young man,” Elena mimicked Failon quite successfully.

  “Don’t let ya’ temper get the better of ya’?” grunted Michael.

  She patted his shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you. He gets on my nerves too.”

  “If he asked a direct question just once, he would probably fall apart or some,” Michael continued to complain.

  “How about we go for a ride? It’s not too late,” Elena suggested. Now, that did sound good.

  “To the rocks?” Michael asked.

  “Why not? At least we won’t get lost.” So together, they fetched their horses.

  “By the way, don’t ya’ do it no more,” Michael exclaimed out of the blue. He didn’t even expect her to answer.

  “Ya’ chose me. Ya’ ya’self chose me for ya’ guard. So if something is happenin’ I wanna know. And I’m not gonna listen to how there was nothin’ I could do. Cause it’s me, who’s gonna decide, what I can, or can’t do.” It is true he made a short pause, but did not expect Elena to use it for a reply. “In other words, I’d appreciate to know in advance ya’re planning to explode or blow something up, so I can run for cover in time.” He gave her a sidelong look. The corners of her mouth were twitching, as she tried not to smile.

  “You did not seem to have a problem with taking cover.”

  “Ye? Missed me by a whisker, ya’ did!” he grumbled again. It was not hard to see, she was trying to hold a straight face. Those twitching corners of hers were contagious.

  “But ya’ whopped the queen to the ground nicely. Her heals went over her head and she got pretty tangled in all those veils of hers. She looked a bit like one of them messy dryads. Was a sight to see.” This time, Elena burst out laughing. Michael grinned widely.

  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “She was flopping like a wet hen,” Michael chuckled. “But I mean it, Eli,” suddenly he turned serious again.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” And she was, too.

  “Ay.”

  ◆◆◆

  Elena could not get the pygmies out of her head. No matter what Failon said, they existed. It baffled her that no one ever spoke about them. Not even Mother had ever mentioned them. Lying in the grass on her tummy, kicking her feet in the air, Elena was trying to figure out a plausible letter for her brothers. Writing to Mother was easy, she did not have to make anything up, but writing to her brothers? In the end, she settled on harmless information based on the truth. Lying did not seem like a good option. As a result, she managed three fully covered pages. They were almost a literary work of art. She reported how she was getting along with her teachers. In detail she described Failon, leaving out only a few, unimportant particulars like the fact that he was an elf and had pointy ears. Picturesquely she told about her exploration of the surrounding country, but left out a couple minor facts like that the woods sometimes try to kill you and that they are full of strange and sometimes scary things and creatures. Managing not to even mention magic, she wrote quite a few lines about how she was improving her healing skills. The description of her newly found friend Wilbur was immaculate, if we overlook that she forgot to write that he weighted a few tons, was greenish blue, and by the way, was a dragon.

  Elena folded the letter and rolled onto her back, cushioning her head on her palms. She watched the clouds welter across the sky. The glade was quiet. Carefully she sent her mind looking for Wilbur, sensing him a lot sooner then she could actually see him. The dragon emerged from the clouds, gliding down in an elegant, slow spiral. She could feel him enjoy the flux of whirlwind pushing against his enormous wings. He seemed content. And maybe, unless she was mistaken, he was satisfied to have a full stomach. Having Wilbur inside her head was odd. So far, they had not had much time to ponder where that strange bond of theirs came from.

  Sometimes, Wilbur just appeared. Usually he touched her mind lightly, never trying to break through her
mental shield. At times it felt as if he were tickling her, it made her laugh. They talked. A lot. She could sense his moods and feelings and never doubted it was mutual. Often he listened to her lessons, never offering any comment, per se. It was enough that sometimes, he just thought different. And she felt it. It made it a bit difficult to concentrate on what her teachers had to say. On the other hand, it gave them a huge number of topics to talk about. Wilbur was a good listener. And he had lot to say about many things she was learning. Even though, sometimes, the things he said were only questions.

  Despite his size and weight, he landed effortlessly. While it would have made sense that in landing his bulk would shake the ground, he landed so lightly she was glad that at least the grass bent under him. The ease and elegance with which he came down would never cease to amaze her. Wilbur folded his wings and sprawled into the grass opposite her, resting his bottom jaw on one of his front paws. She rolled back onto her stomach, putting her chin on folded arms. They lay facing each other, almost nose to snout.

  “Hello,” Elena greeted him happily.

  “How was your day, Beastie?”

  “You know, you were there.”

  Wilbur laughed. It sounded like a little thunderstorm.

  “It’s going to rain,” he said.

  “Hm. Is it so bad that we have to speak about the weather?” Elena commented jokingly. Uncomprehendingly he peered at her with just one eye. She could feel his bewilderment.

  “Aha, well, … humans, when they don’t know what to talk about, they talk about the weather. It’s a sociable …”

  “Thingumabob?” the dragon offered. This time it was Elena, who laughed.

  “I’m not really sure if Michaels’s vocabulary is what you should be learning.”

  “It is an interesting word, says it all...” It was compelling to see him mull the word around in his mind. She raised her eyebrows.

  “I just don’t seem to be able to grasp it’s meaning,” Wilbur added.

  “Er …” Some things were really hard to explain. How do you explain etiquette or social manners to a dragon?