The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1)

by Kristina Hlaváčková

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s rubbish! Even if such someone could possibly exist, it’s definitely not me.” Wilbur did not comment, hoping Elena would get to the right answers on her own if allowed ponder things long enough.

  “It’s simply bull. Whoever you ask they’ll tell you I’m a goofy, no-good kid that gets under everybody’s feet.”

  “Nobody would say that!”

  “Oh, yah? Why don’t you ask Ashka then? She’ll tell you that I’m incapable of doing anything right. Everything I do, is wrong. Or at least not perfect enough.”

  “She brought you to the elves, so you could learn,” Wilbur was trying to make a point.

  “Most likely she was afraid I would blow something up and didn’t want to be present when it happened,” Elena grunted.

  Wilbur rolled his eyes skyward. Sometimes, things were quite difficult with this little girl.

  “Come on, think about it. It’s absolute nonsense. I’m just a little child. A shrimp. And a small kid like me can’t, simply can’t do… well … you know what.” She was beginning to get entangled in her own thoughts.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, wars start because of big, important things and people, not because of children. Besides, no one person can change so much. And even if it were possible, the prophecy is ambiguous, saying the child will tilt the scales of fortune. How do we know which way? It might mean salvation or doom. And nobody knows who will be pulling at the shorter end of the rope.”

  Wilbur listened to how she gradually worked her way to the heart of the matter. He could see her eyes open wide with realization.

  “Gods, blimey! … But its bull nevertheless.” For a moment she looked like she had collapsed into herself, then she straightened up.

  “It is horse feathers, right? It just can’t be me cause I am of the blood of only three nations, the Berber, elves and the Adragon,” she pleaded.

  “And dragons,” Wilbur added.

  “No way!”

  “Dragon blood runs through your veins.”

  “Rubbish! Dragons and people can’t… Well, you know what. You do know how children are made, don’t you? That you are implying is simply impossible, so it’s nonsense.” Elena continued to protest.

  “Beastie …” Wilbur tried to interrupt.

  “Go to hell! I have no time for this trash,” she spluttered out and ran away from him, into the underground tunnels. On her way, she almost knocked down Michael. He turned and even took a few steps to follow her, but changed his mind and turned to Wilbur.

  “Now what did ya’ do to her?” the boy snapped at the dragon.

  Wilbur sighed. Perhaps it was not the best of ideas, but Michael was probably the only person Elena trusted. Also, he was supposed to protect her and to do that properly, he should know what was going on around her. So, Wilbur carefully explained about the prophecy. At the end of his account he recounted Elena’s reaction.

  Michael swore horribly. “And ya’ told her all that?” he asked.

  The dragon nodded.

  Michael laughed bitterly. “Did ya’ hit ya’ head on something?” the boy questioned seriously. “Ya’ can’t tell her things like that! She’s got enough trouble as it is.”

  “If she doesn’t return to the elves, we are all in trouble.” Wilbur responded glumly.

  “And ya’ want me to explain that to her, or what?” Michael was cross.

  “I will teach her. If I teach her how to use her powers properly, she won’t have a reason not to return.”

  “Ya’re nuts! I’m not gonna try to persuade her.”

  “The fate of our world is in her hands,” Wilbur persisted.

  “And ya’ really believe that?”

  “Yes,” was Wilbur’s firm answer that Michael did not want to hear.

  “That’s exactly why I’m not gonna try to force that decision on her. Life’s hard on her as it is. I swore I’d protect her. If that means supporting her in all her decisions, so be it. She needs someone to have her back because they love her, not because they want something from her.”

  Wilbur took Michael’s comment personally, stuck his toothy nozzle right in front of Michael’s face and growled. The boy, surprisingly, didn’t even wince.

  “I love her! She’s my family, don’t you dare suggest anything else!” the dragon snarled at Michael with teeth bared.

  “Prove it! If ya’ll teach her, fine. But think about her, not the world. She’s too young to have the fate of the whole Kérala on her shoulders. And just to make matters clear, don’t ya’ dare hurt her! Because if ya’ do, ya’ll be dealing with me!” Michael turned on his heal to leave. Suddenly he halted, turned back and said:

  “And your breath stinks.”

  ◆◆◆

  Michael searched almost all the residential corridors, and even a part of the mine before finding Elena in a smithy. Except for her, the cave was empty. And quiet. Excluding rhythmical pounding of her hammer. All the forges stood abandoned. The entrance to the smithy, on the contrary, was packed with dwarves suspiciously peaking inside. Michael had to push through them to see what was happening. The hammer in Elena’s hand pounded red hot iron with an absolutely regular rhythm. He watched for a moment as the tool rose and fell, as sparkles flew from the point of impact.

  “When fire in the forge begins to fade, she throws a fireball into it,” one of the dwarves announced.

  “She’s haywire,” explained another.

  “She’s already made a few war axes,” added a third and Michael could not but notice a heap of war axes at Elena’s feet.

  “A few?” he wondered. “How long has she been here?” He whispered because the dwarves were whispering also.

  “Couple of hours,” Borgin offered. Surprised, but with his eyes still on Elena, Michael raised his eyebrows.

  “She came in, threw a fireball into an empty forge and looks like that ever since,” said someone in the back row.

  “She drove us out,” Dorian joined the conversation. He was almost a head shorter than everyone else, but made up for it with his considerable width.

  “We ran,” admitted Borgin, nudging him in the ribs.

  “No, we only vacated the premises. Since she looked dangerous.” Dorian replied briskly.

  “Her eyes are weird,” someone else offered.

  “So, what are we going to do?” asked another from the back rows.

  “We will hope that she doesn’t chop my head off,” Michael answered, straightening his collar and rolling up his sleeves theatrically. He stepped into the smithy. The dwarves began to elbow one another to get a better look.

  Michael grabbed a deserted hammer and stood facing Elena, judging her tempo for a moment. When he thought he knew it, he began to strike the iron in between her blows. It forced her to slow down a little, but she didn’t seem to mind much. Standing astride, eyes set on the iron bar she was working on with a stern look on her face and a vertical wrinkle from concentration settled on her forehead. Though she seemed to have calmed down a little, she looked anything but friendly.

  Her head was full of thoughts she didn’t like. Why couldn’t people decide what was really going on? Why did they keep changing their minds about her and what she was supposed to do? Why couldn’t people tell her things? Life would be that much easier if people were simply frank with her. Did they seriously expect her to comply with all their demands? She was desperately trying to find an argument that would prove Wilbur wrong. Unfortunately, she saw none. Whichever way she looked at it, she kept coming back to the fact that it was dangerous for the dwarves should she decide to stay. It was time to move on. Or back? Were it up to her alone, she would have scattered and left everyone to do whatever was to their liking. But who would explain that to Mother? She was stubborn enough to do something real stupid. Like meeting with Alivan. Elena suspected that where normal people managed wisdom and kindness, these two impressive ladies, when put together, invoked only malice and rivalry. Gods!

/>   Elena looked up at him. Michael lowered his hammer to his side and waited. She was looking at him with wide open eyes. In those eyes there was not even a hint of the dragon she carried in her blood.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

  Michael shrugged. “Start with putting that hammer down.”

  Elena looked at the hammer in her hand as if she’d never seen it before and carefully laid it down. All the dwarves standing in the smithy entrance collectively sighed with relief.

  “It’s not fair,” Elena moaned.

  “Nobody said it was goin’ to be easy, Eli.”

  “But …”

  “It’s your call, but I might have a bit of advice,” Michael began. “Maybe ya’re looking at it all wrong. Maybe it’s less of a problem than ya’ think. Let’s suppose the prophecy is true. That should make ya’ pretty important. If so, why not use it to ya’ advantage?” Elena stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Well, if ya’re as important as Wilbur says, they should spoil you, not sweat ya’ like a mule.” Michael continued to explain, but Elena still did not seem to understand. Michael shrugged again.

  “Just stop being afraid of them. If ya’ decide to go back there and finish ya’ training, just tell them ya’ have conditions. Simply dictate ya’ terms of further cooperation.” Having said, what he came to say, he went silent. And watched Elena’s expression change.

  “Listen, I don’t want to nail ya’ up to it, but it might not be such a bad idea to let Wilbur teach ya’,” he ventured and for a moment it looked like he’d dared too much. For a moment her pupils narrowed slightly and her eyes gleamed balefully.

  Elena walked into her room and slammed the heavy door shut so hard the corridor lanterns began to sway. The room’s main lamp had only a maintenance flame and the emitted light was just enough for Elena not to trip over anything. She halted, contemplating her dwelling suspiciously. There was someone here. She sighed and took her hand off the sword hilt. Slowly, she walked to the lantern and extended its wick. Warm light flooded the little bedroom. Elena sat on her bed and pulled her knees up to her chin.

  “OK, come on out, I’m not in a mood for games,” she addressed the obviously empty space. Mad thoughts were flashing through her mind, she was tired and cold and the silence in her cave seemed to get even denser. There was no answer.

  “Well, I intend to heat up in here, so if you are in the fireplace, I would recommend that you leave it.” A blue fireball appeared on her palm. She let it levitate for a moment and then she swung her arm.

  “Eeeek! Bugrid! Hop, hop! Out, away!” squealed the fireplace and the Bugrids spilled out of it. Elena threw the fireball and the prepared wood exploded and blazed up.

  “Jajx!” yelped the last illsprite out of the fireplace and began to extinguish the back of his pants with his hands.

  “What gawp ya’, Gammer?” Willie snapped at her.

  Elena gave him a look. “I told you to get out. … Where have you been?” Her question sounded cross. This was all she needed, a bunch of illsprites in her bedroom. Couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? Othar began to bicker among themselves in a rather loud whisper. Once again they were pushing Willie to the front. Suddenly, the tiny flat was literally full of them. She could see them peaking from under the chairs, bed and table, they were sitting on brace rods and beams, two of them were even sitting on a hooked nail used as a peg. Sick and tired of everything, Elena closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall.

  “Forest be weird,” dropped out of Willie after a short pause. For a while she pondered what exactly could that statement mean, but was in no mood for riddles.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Not be no dry hole!” one of the Bugrids tried to help. Elena wrinkled her forehead.

  “What?” Gods, couldn’t the silly manikins talk sense just for once? She opened her eyes and looked at Willie, who lifted his face towards the ceiling and began to whistle. With his hands behind his back he was bobbing on the balls of his feet.

  “You got lost?” suddenly she realized and all Othar began to fidget, peaking at one another, and above all, began to shout down one another.

  “Ney, ney, Gammer!” Willie protested. “Be Othar, all be never lost!”

  Elena raised her eyebrows.

  “Othar all time know be where,” Willie defended them.

  “Sure, except Othar know not be where the rest of the world,” Elena mimicked him.

  “Ay!” Willie nodded with a huge smile, happy all got sorted out so nicely. All the other Bugrids nodded just as vigorously. She gave them a cheerless half smile, closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall again.

  “Humph, get lost, then.”

  “Othar all time …”

  “Be never lost! Scram, Willie, I want to be alone, I’m not in a mood,” she boomed at them and the Bugrids went silent immediately. For a split second she hoped they had disappeared that fast as well. However, she couldn’t be so lucky.

  She gave them a stern look. “Move it!”

  Willie scratched his ear, mumbling: “Othar protect.”

  “Othar go away,” she replied hoping he would understand and obey. Willie would have argued, but the little witch seemed quite capable of setting his butt on fire. He shuffled his feet for a moment, then commanded the Bugrids to withdraw. Suddenly, the room was empty, although it didn’t really feel empty. She suspected them not to be far away, probably not even as far as the corridor, but at least they weren’t as vexing as before. Othar protect? What was that supposed to mean? Protect who? Her? The world from her? She seriously didn’t feel like thinking about that either. She curled up and pulled a blanket over her head.

  ◆◆◆

  Elena gave the saddle on Wilbur’s back an incredulous look.

  “You got to be kidding me!” she proclaimed and Wilbur laughed and scratched at the saddle strap with his hind leg just like an overgrown dog. Standing aside, Michael watched the dragon suspiciously. Even more suspiciously than Eli and the dwarf all together. “This is not a good idea,” he mumbled. The saddle on Wilbur’s back looked frail and flimsy. It definitely didn’t look like something he would like to entrust his charge to.

  “There is no quicker way to get back,” Wilbur explained for about the hundredth time.

  “Your father will kill you,” Elena answered.

  “That should not be a problem as long as they don’t kill each other with your mother and Alivan.”

  “That hardly makes this a good idea!” she protested. Wilbur held out his leg to help her climb onto him.

  “Couldn’t I ride a horse?” she tried again but began to scramble up Wilbur’s back unwillingly. It felt all wrong, when she threw a leg over the saddle. The moment she had both feet in the stirrups, Elena could feel Wilbur’s muscles tense. The dragon pushed off the ground as soon as he thought her to be settled.

  “It’s a bad ideaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Her voice changed into a scream and disappeared into the depths when Wilbur plunged headlong from the cliff.

  “Holy cow,” Michael let off steam.

  Borgin covered his eyes with his palms. All the dwarves agreed that flying was unnatural.

  Clamped to Wilbur’s neck, Elena desperately clutched the pommel as they dashed towards the ground. She could feel Wilbur’s joy of flying.

  “Hold on, Beastie!” he warned her. Only a few meters from the canyon bottom Wilbur spread his wings and in a loop flew up towards the sky. Elena whooped, flooded by Wilbur’s joy as well as her own.

  “It’s brilliant!” she yelled into the wind that tore words away from her mouth.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet!” Wilbur laughed and gathered even more speed, summersaulting in the air like a happy dragon cub. For a moment, Elena let go of the pommel, spreading her arms, but grabbed the saddle again, when Wilbur flipped over and she found herself upside down.

  Michael watched them from the ground, expecting Elena to fall out of the saddle any minute. With a
mix of fascination, fear and awe the dwarves also watched. Elena grew in their eyes with every loop, with every change of direction. None of them would ever be capable of such a performance. Everyone was very relieved when Wilbur began to land, which he did very elegantly. Elena threw her leg over Wilbur’s neck and slid down his side. Michael noticed her knees buckle under her, when her feet touched the ground.

  “That’ll work,” she laughed happily. Her hair was a mess, she had color in her cheeks and was out of breath. “But I need to sit down,” she finished and collapsed heavily onto a rock. Her legs were shaking, all her muscles ached, but she had a huge smile on her lips.

  ◆◆◆

  Ashka sat facing Alivan. The room sparkled with tension as harsh words and invectives had long ago gotten out of hand and protocol. The dignity both queens were trying to keep was giving way to rage and fury brought forward by vanity, unwillingness to admit the other one was right in the slightest detail, and fear. The bets were far too high, of which both women were sharply aware. It won’t take long before denigration, insults, and other words that couldn’t be unsaid took place. Atmosphere was getting thicker by the second.

  And then, a sounds of a rampage from outside reached their ears. A guard ran into the room, bowing quickly.

  “My apologies for interrupting, but matters outside demand your presence,” he spluttered and bowed again, suddenly realizing, he might have ran into an angry bear’s den and might get slaughtered any minute. The two women looked at each other. Surely, the guard would not have dared to interrupt their meeting unless he had a serious reason.

  The open space of the piazza was filling up with elves. Alivan and Ashka followed suit and lifted their heads to look at the sky. A dragon was gracefully circling above the forest, his dark blue scales shining in winter sun. All elves cried in surprise when the dragon inclined in a loop and they could see a rider on its back.

  “They are both down there, can you see them?” Elena yelled into the howling wind. She was too excited for telepathic conversation.

  “I see them,” Wilbur returned.

  “Show yourself, then.” Elena’s heart was beating like crazy, but she had long ago decided she would not be scared. This was her moment. She intended to make the most of it and she intended to enjoy it. Wilbur flapped his wings and sored up towards the clouds.