The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1)

by Kristina Hlaváčková

  “Where are we going?” Michael finally worded his concern. Silently, Elena waved her hand in a vague direction in which they were heading.

  “Anywhere more specific?” he pushed gently.

  “Hm. Over there into those rocks,” she said, her mind obviously wandering.

  “And after that?”

  “I studied maps.”

  “We should get out of the mountains before they cover with snow.” Michael tried to pry any relevant information out of her.

  “Or we will find shelter somewhere,” Elena stubbornly stuck to noncommittal answers. Michael was aiming at one particular question and she knew it. She did not want him to ask, because that would mean she would have to answer. And there was no going back, once she said it aloud. As if, not saying it aloud made it less true.

  “We’re not going home, right?” It was a mere statement of fact, not a question. Which did not make it any easier for Elena. She simply shook her head. Michael knew in advance, what she was going to tell him, he just hoped she would not.

  “If you want to go home, I’ll understand,” she murmured and seemed to shrink in her saddle right in front of his eyes.

  “C’mon, don’t be stupid. I swore.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Go, if you want to go home.”

  “Aren’t ya’ homesick?” he asked her. Elena pressed her lips together and said nothing.

  “Maybe I’m not properly learned to be ya’ guardian, but ya’ have more chances with me than without me.”

  “I would be happy if you came with me, but I won’t make you.”

  “Maybe they would …” Michael started to say.

  “… understand?” she finished for him and shook her head.

  “They would send me back to the elves. I will not return.”

  “Will ya’ tell me what happened?” he asked and Elena shrugged her shoulders. “Because in the Black Wood …” Michael continued.

  “That was different,” Elena murmured, cutting him off. Michael just raised his eyebrows.

  “Let’s say Failon is right and I have a dragon within me. When it awakens of its own accord, when I’m afraid or when I’m angry, it’s just like a ghost that sort of oozes through the cracks in a wall. I know it’s coming and it happens kind of slowly. I know the strength it appears with. That day with Failon …” Elena went silent. Even the memory was horrible. Michael did not rush her.

  “With Failon, it was more like the dragon within me ran against that wall headlong, at full speed, and simply smashed through it. I was unable to stop it. Unable to control it! It was as if I exploded and could do nothing about it. When that strength wakes up on its own, it is still me. More or less. And when I calm down, the dragon, or whatever it is, disappears.” Her voice faltered while she talked. Michael was silent. She must have been very scared. Now, even the memory made her urge Ashkent on, so that Michael would not see the expression on her face. Catching up with her, he stretched out his hand toward her. Elena looked at his open palm. After a moment’s thought, she put her hand into his. He clasped it tightly which earned him a very unconvincing half smile. Hugging her might have helped, but that would probably knock both of them off their saddles. He would have to figure out a way to let his mother know she had no reason to worry about him. And that was that.

  ◆◆◆

  “Have you ever seen a dwarf?” Elena asked suddenly.

  “What?” Michael was baffled.

  “A dwarf.”

  “No, why?”

  “Then you’ll probably see one soon.”

  “What?” There were seriously times when he wished that what she said made sense.

  “If something does not eat him first, that is.” Elena pointed down. There were tracks there. When he looked closely, he saw the remains of suspiciously small hobnailed boot prints. Whoever it was, weather a child or a dwarf, he or she was in trouble. A bear was following them. A very big bear. Elena urged Ashkent forward. Michael followed. The bear was hunting for winter supplies.

  They heard screams. Elena kicked Ashkent’s sides. The horse shot forward. Michael was fast behind them. They almost skidded around the sharp turn of the valley. Emerging from behind a bedrock, Elena saw a dwarf swinging an axe. He was trying to strike the huge attacking bear while at the same time he was trying to avoid fangs and claws. Struck by an enormous clawed paw, the dwarf fell to the ground.

  When it began to swipe its paw again, aiming to kill, Elena’s arrow hit the beast in the back of its neck. The bear stopped mid-movement and began to turn. Second, third and fourth arrows hit him, as both children fired. The beast roared. Furious, it plunged towards Elena. In full gallop, Ashkent darted sideways. Elena’s sword swished through the air, chipping the bear in the side of the neck. Enraged, the animal lashed its paw at her. Elena ducked, Ashkent made a narrow escape. Before the beast had time to turn, Michael’s sword slashed him. Kran rushed by the animal. Elena pulled Ashkent’s rains. The horse reared and pirouetted on his hind legs. Circling the gigantic carnivore, they slashed and hacked, while the wretched dwarf tried to crawl out of the way of hoofs and paws. Michael stabbed, feeling an ugly crunch as his sword connected with the cervical spine. Blood gushed out of the bear’s mouth, followed by a groan and the beast collapsed to the ground. Still caught in the animal, Michael’s sword tore out of his hand. The entire fight took hardly a minute.

  While Michael cautiously approached the fallen beast to retrieve his weapon, Elena kneeled by the wounded dwarf. He tried to trust his axe in front of himself for protection. Lifting her hand palm first, Elena made a conciliatory gesture. Had he been standing, she would have barely been taller than the dwarf.

  “Easy! I am Elena and this is Michael. I will look at your wounds and will try to do something about them,” she tried to calm him down.

  Wheezing, the dwarf nodded. He was very badly torn. It was obvious at first glance that he had not only flesh wounds, but also a smashed bone in his arm and a dislocated shoulder. What was worse, though, there was a deep gash across the dwarf’s stomach. He was dripping blood. Michael stooped over them.

  “How is he?”

  The dwarf wheezed again and bloody foam appeared on his lips. A snowflake fell on his cheek. It was beginning to snow.

  Silently, Elena turned her eyes to Michael. He nodded and straightened up to look the valley over. Leaving Elena with the dwarf, Michael went to look for a lee where shelter and fire could be built. Desperate, the dwarf watched him leave. The skinny girl seemed quite unlikely to be capable of helping him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid this will hurt,” Elena apologized. At first he felt strange tingling and then something exploded in his chest. He screamed and fainted. Thank gods, Elena thought. She knew what needed to be done to save his life. Doing it with him fully conscious was something neither of them would appreciate.

  When Michael came back an hour later, Elena was still kneeling over the motionless dwarf with her hands coupled, and fingers complexly interlocked above his chest. Michael could see a soft light coming from under her palm. For a moment he stood, watching snow fall on the strange sculpture before his eyes. The flare coming from Elena’s palms faded. The girl rested her hands on the ground and lifted her eyes to him. She was pale and seemed out of breath. A long time ago he had noticed how much strength she needed for healing severe injuries and it worried him. He could still feel his wounds. Taking care of those must have taking quite a toll on her and he wasn’t sure, home much more she could withstand.

  “I think we can move him now,” Elena commented and Michael nodded.

  “I built us a small shelter and a fire. I’ll help ya’ carry him over and then I’ll do something with that.” He pointed his thumb at the motionless animal. Snow was slowly covering the corpse. Together, they transferred the dwarf onto a blanket and carried him to the fire. Michael then, returned to the dead bear. It would be a waste not to process all the meat, fat and skin, especially with winter coming. Both horses had to be hitched up fo
r the huge body to be towed closer to the fire. While Elena tended to the wounded dwarf, Michael began to skin and portion the bear.

  It took Elena more than three hours to heal all the dwarf’s wounds and broken bones. That done, she tucked him into one of the blankets and leaned tiredly against a rock. Her face was almost as ash gray as the dwarf’s. Well, the piece of the dwarf’s face that actually visible between the thick fringes and beard anyway. Elena closed her eyes. Michael looked at her.

  “There’s tea on the fire, get some,” he announced with his arms bloody, busy with skinning the bear.

  “Humph,” she murmured but did not even try to move.

  “Can ya’ tell me, why I’m here?” Michael asked a bit edgily.

  “Humph?”

  “One day ya’ll kill ya’self, no one will even have to assist. So why should I waste my energy? I could hole up somewhere warm, throw my legs on the table and let someone feed me.”

  “You’d be bored,” Elena mumbled.

  “And that would kill me, but couldn’t we manage without ya’ trying to commit suicide?”

  “He would have died.”

  “So it’s better that ya’ die instead?”

  “Corpses don’t speak.”

  “Ya’ need to take better care of ya’self.” Michael went on scolding her.

  “Yes ma,” Elena replied halfheartedly.

  Michael had already managed to gut the bear and was now almost finished skinning it. Trying to cut the carcass up was going to be a hell of a work, he knew. Elena moved ponderously to pour herself some of the herb brew. Trying to warm her hands on the cup, she sat motionless for a while. When she recuperated a little, she moved to sling the dwarf’s arm, since she did not really have the strength to heal it properly. Straightening the bone and healing the arm muscles had taken quite a toll anyway. She ate a little and got up to help Michael with the corpse.

  “Go git! Ya’ look like ya’re going to fall over any minute,” the boy tried to drive her away.

  “No problem there, I can do this sitting down. Stop crabbing, you need help.”

  “I wish ya’ would stop saving the world.”

  “Stop grumbling.”

  “Ya’re plunging into things heedlessly head first.”

  “That statement is contradictory,” Elena stated halfheartedly.

  “Stop playing quibbling and listen to me. I can kill myself to keep ya’ out of harm’s way and then ya’ just turn around and do something real stupid.”

  “I’m OK, I’m just tired.”

  “One day ya’ll overdo it and die,” he grumbled on.

  Silently, Elena worked on the bear carcass with her knife. Looking extremely tired, she moved almost in slow motion.

  “You did not seem to mind when I healed your wounds,” she murmured to stop the flow of Michael’s complains. It took him aback.

  “Why do you think I fell asleep on guard?” She asked crossly. Finally, Michael stopped scolding her. Together, and in total silence, they portioned their quarry. It was getting dark fast, and it was snowing heavily.

  “We need to find winter shelter and we need to do it fast,” Michael proclaimed thoughtfully.

  “Humph.”

  Michael lifted his head to look at her. Elena sat leaning against a rock, her head back, eyes closed, breathing quietly. He smiled, shook his head and put a blanket over her. Finally he had a chance to look at the dwarf properly. He was very lean with long black hair braided into two thick braids, beard reaching all the way to his belt. A hobnailed belt that the bear had torn apart and thrown away. The dwarf’s head was quite large with a sharp nose. Michael thought him to be quite young, but it was hard to tell under all that hair and beard. Hobnailed boots and leather clothes finished the picture. What interested Michael the most, though, was the war axe. It was really heavy, but extremely well balanced. Interesting weapon. He even tried to swing it a few times. The blade more than equaled his swords. If there was nothing else, it would be a good weapon for battle, but it was heavy and using it would be tiring. Also the dwarf’s crossbow with short arrows captured Michael’s attention. It had a sophisticated mechanism; the string was difficult to wind, but the better the force and range.

  ◆◆◆

  Elena gently touched the dwarf’s forehead. He was ever so slightly feverish, but it could have been worse. She just hoped she had not overlooked anything life threatening. The dwarf opened his eyes. Relieved, Elena grinned at him.

  “Hurrah, good morning!” she greeted him happily after which she remembered her good manners and bowed slightly.

  “I am Elena daughter of John of the Berber. My companion is Michael, son of Magnus of the Berber.

  “Borgin, son of Bogur,” the dwarf croaked. His throat was dry. He tried to clear it, which was a mistake. His abdominal wall definitely didn’t like it, but even so he quite stubbornly tried to sit up. Uncompromisingly, Elena pushed him back.

  “I wouldn’t do that. All the scars are too fresh, something might rupture. Besides, your body has a memory and it might decide its injuries are too bad,” she explained. Borgin moved cautiously. He lifted the blanket to see. There were bandages over his chest and stomach, but no trace of blood anywhere.

  “For how long am I here?” He was suspicious.

  “Since yesterday,” Michael answered. The dwarf patted himself down carefully. An arm in a sling and fixated shoulder joint made the action slightly difficult.

  “Careful with that shoulder, I’m not very good with joints, yet,” Elena smiled at him apologetically, handing him a bowl of broth.

  “What happened?” asked the dwarf even more suspiciously, remembering far too well that the bear had torn him almost in half, breaking his bones. His whole body did hurt, that was true, but judging by what he found, he had no open wounds and all the bandages were thin. He took a careful sip of the broth. His insides protested a little.

  “That pile of meat over there, tried to use ya’ as winter supplies. We talked him out of it. He’s bound to make a nice winter coat or a hearthrug if ya’ don’t mind ya’ messed up his belly with that axe of ya’s,” Michael commented, grinning.

  “And after that?”

  “What do you mean, after that?” Elena did not understand.

  “I’d also be surprised to be massacred by a bear one day and heald the next,” Michael explained to her.

  “He’ll have a ton of scars though,” Elena frowned. Borgin made an impatient face.

  “Elena here is a wee bit of a witch.” Michael winked at the dwarf. Instinctively, Borgin tried to pull away from the girl.

  “Now, now! That what you call gratitude?” Elena raised her eyebrows. “How do you feel? If something starts twitching or you feel sharp pain instead of a dull one, say so.” Was she seeing things, or did that part of his face visible between thick hair and beard go crimson? Borgin just realized the girl had seen him without a shirt on. He sincerely hoped it was only without a shirt. A witch? The thought made him uncomfortable. All he knew about people was by hearsay, and Elena looked like a very young human. Needless to say, that the long-lived dwarf folk did not take kindly to humans. And most of all, they particularly distrusted witches.

  Wind chased the falling snow around the valley. Since Elena insisted that Borgin should not be moved for at least another day, there was nothing else to do but huddle under their small shelter and talk. At first, it was Elena and Michael who did most of the talking, but Borgin gradually lost his bashfulness and joined in. He fell asleep a few times and slept for a couple of hours each time. Elena was getting restless. Lately, staying in one place for a longer span of time made her nervous, and she was worried that someone was bound to come looking for the dwarf. On top of all that, their shelter was not in a very strategic place, though Michael had done his best in the circumstances. And winter was on their back. They should be either travelling to get through the mountains as fast as possible, or finding a good winter shelter and making supplies while it were still at least slightl
y possible. Sitting by the fire chatting simply did not seem the best of ideas. Michael entertained himself by carefully cleaning the bearskin. Though he shared Elena’s views winter wise, he was glad for the moment of rest. Being on the run was running him down. Regardless of what his charge thought, he was sure a bit of boredom would do her good.

  Soon, Elena’s fears turned out to be justified. She heard them a lot sooner than Michael did. It was a mere crunch of a boot on the snow. Reaching for her sword, Elena threw a pebble at Michael and disappeared into the morning gloom. Michael was just as quick in his reaction. His swords in his hands, he ran out in front of the shelter. It would be a drag fighting half bent under the roof. Their movement was silent, but it awoke Borgin nevertheless.

  Long afterwards, Elena wondered at the dwarves’ ability to proceed so quietly despite wearing hobnailed boots. And they were fast, closing around the children’s shelter. Ten dwarves armed to their teeth, with heavy war axes in their hands. Elena was quite aware that some situations were simply hard to explain. This was going to be a hell of a mess! She had to admire Michael, standing there calmly, waiting for them with both his swords in his hands casually by his sides.

  Dru saw the human boy walk from under the shelter, take a few steps, and stop with his back to a tree. He seemed calm but vigilant. Dru was sure the boy was not alone, but no one else was in sight. Which of course, the dwarf didn’t like. Such a young boy was bound not to be alone here, so Dru searched the few trees behind the shelter for movement, seeing none, and that made him even more uneasy. Some of his men halted at his command. He was not going to make it easy for the enemy by walking into a trap sheepishly. The boy changed his posture slightly, making it obvious he was ready to fight. Dru halted, the rest of his companions following his lead. Should they attack all at once, the boy would stand no chance. If he was alone, that is. Which Dru doubted.