The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1)

by Kristina Hlaváčková

  Elena was not the only one who had changed in the past years. From a carefree, naughty boy horsing around whenever and wherever he had a chance, Philip had grown into an occasionally serious young gentleman. Well, certainly a man. He wasn’t a lanky kid any more, acquiring quite some muscle and sinew. His features were considerably harder, his eyes still quizzical, but keen, wise and sentient.

  They were truly a beautiful couple, soon drawing attention to themselves, as they elegantly glided across the dance floor in tune with Berber music. Flattered by the fact that someone appreciated their endeavor, the musicians threw in a few livelier songs. Michael lifted his head again at the first sound of quicker melody. He needed but one look at the radiant Elena whirling over the dance floor in a mixture of Berber and elven dance steps. Inconspicuously, he looked at the queen.

  Ashka sat in a richly decorated armchair, her arms laying on the elbow-rests, her fingers impatiently drumming on wood. She glared at her daughter. For a moment, her husband watched her before clasping her impatient fingers in his calm hand.

  “May I ask you for a dance, my dear?” he asked. For a moment it appeared she was going to snap at him, but then she smiled and nodded slightly. Seeing Ashka dance was always a sight to see. She looked as if she were floating above the floor, her feet hardly touching the ground. When she danced, she appeared to come alive, grow younger. She sparkled. Her daughter, needless to say, refused to be cast into her mother’s shadow. The musicians let themselves get carried away, every new song was quicker, more vivacious. The livelier the melody, the more the ongoing dance looked like duel. As if both women were competing with one another in the complexity of their routines and elegance of their moves. In the mountains, Wilbur, before whom Elena didn’t hide her thoughts nor feelings, lay with a paw over his eyes and nozzle. He whined, as if that could erase the picture from his mind. But not only that one picture. All the pictures, sounds, smells, Elena’s feelings. It was pure chaos. Giving up, he closed his mind to it all, wriggling a bit to get more comfortable.

  Elena smiled. It was a strange smile; charming, thoughtful, knowing, and … amused. She stopped competing, and started to dance. Suddenly, she was relaxed, merely enjoying herself. Some duels simply couldn’t be won, and this was not the best of times to provoke her mother. Philip was smiling at her, happy to see her, happy for her to be back home. At that moment, things felt to be in perfect order. Nothing else mattered. She was home, at last.

  ◆◆◆

  “What was that supposed to be?” barked Ashka even before the door closed shut behind Elena. Light crow’s feet appeared around Elena’s mouth, suggesting a suppressed smile. She was remembering her last visit to this room. But this was not an audience. This was … being hauled over the coals. Father sat in one of the armchairs, his fingers interlocked under his chin. Ashka was pacing like a cat in a cage.

  This time, however, she was not allowed to sit in her mother’s armchair, this time she stood confident and without fear. This time, she knew what was going on. This time, she was not a small child almost without a vote. Elena didn’t answer.

  “Who do you think you are?” Ashka spat. Again, no answer. “You must have gone mad! You can’t just appear here, showing off like that! You could’ve blown the lid on everything!”

  To this, Elena did have an answer: “With all due respect, Mother, I am of Berber blood. I simply did what I have a right to do.”

  “Yes! You are of Berber blood! You are the daughter of a King and you must abide by all laws! Family honor is … everything!” Ashka yelled at her, undoubtedly referring to her participation in Arkas.

  “I beg your pardon, Mother, but the Berber law says that a woman may participate in Arkas under the same conditions as any of the men, unless her father, or in his absence the closest male relative, protests. Neither my father, nor any other male relative had forbidden me to participate, so technically, I have broken no Berber laws. And before you push this topic any further, I would like to draw your attention to the fact, that I am not the only female who has taken an active part in Arkas, needless to say, doing so honorably. To be exact, I am not the only female in this family who has taken an active part in Arkas.” Suddenly, there was silence. A very loud silence.

  “That is not the point of this discussion! You could have revealed your secret! And you know Father wouldn’t have allowed you to participate, had he known about your intentions!” Ashka retorted.

  Elena smiled to herself. Of course Father would have protested had she asked. That, my dear mamma, is called a hole in the law. In this particular matter the Berber law was rather carelessly stated, or maybe on the contrary very carefully so. That depended on your point of view. The law stated that a woman could compete in Arkas unless she was forbidden to do so. It did not say she could compete when allowed. If permission was unnecessary, so was asking for it.

  Nevertheless, just in case, Elena restrained from saying it was actually Ashka, years ago, who broke the law by participating in Arkas, because she was not of Berber blood. However, history was not going to ask that particular question, since by competing in the Arkas war games, Ashka attracted the attention of her future husband. Elena knew this was one of the family taboos, an especially dangerous one with Ashka. Elena didn’t see a reason to pour oil on the fire. Besides, where exactly do you think she got the idea in the first place?!

  “You are undoubtedly referring to the possibility of me revealing my powers. I haven’t used a trifle of magic. And the law says nothing about a need to inform the closest male relative about a girl’s intent to compete.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that it was foolish, reckless, and selfish!” Ashka stood her ground.

  John contemplated his daughter. She was very calm and composed, strongly resembling her mother in appearance though her elven features were softer. He had a feeling Elena had not only anticipated this quarrel, but also had prepared for it well. Elena was now saying: “Reckless, maybe. Foolish, no. It would have been selfish had I won, and that evidently did not happen.”

  Without really knowing why, John didn’t like the way Elena had said that. Ashka stopped pacing and spun to face her daughter. “How dare you!”

  “What, Mother?” Suddenly Elena’s tone changed. Ever so slightly, but John, listening to the quarrel without actually taking part, had registered it. It’d been a very long time since he’d seen his wife so angry. Well, furious might be a more accurate description. Red hot furry was something rare as far as his wife was concerned.

  “This is not how I raised you!” Ashka made a tactical mistake, and Elena immediately used it to her advantage.

  “Yes, Mother, that is a fact. Because it was not you who raised me! Well, at least those parts of my character or behavior that you don’t like, can be blamed on somebody else’s influence, isn’t that right?! Be my guest, but before you complain, pray remember it was your decision to send me away.” This really was not diplomatic. But Elena had run out of patience. She was ready for Ashka going berserk, she’d even anticipated some of her arguments, but right then the little girl who’d been left behind in a hostile place by her own mother was now getting the upper hand, pushing all sense aside.

  “Elena, behave yourself!” John finally entered the argument, scolding his daughter. Elena bowed her head, but he could see her cheek muscles tighten.

  “I will not apologize. I suspected you would disagree with my competing in Arkas, but I represented our family with honor, without discrediting my brothers or breaking any laws. It was my way of showing you who I am and what I can do. I was gone for over eight years. It was probably naïve to expect a warm welcome. A hug and: it’s good to see you, would have done the trick, Mother. I’m definitely glad to see you. And I am glad to be home. I’m not the cub that left years ago and you don’t know me anymore. Maybe I’m not yet an adult, and I probably do things that are not to your liking, but I’m not a small kid either. You brought me up to be independent and to use my brain, so don’t expect m
e to click my heels together, and obey, just because you shout at me. Mother, I am not a dirty secret you have to hide.” She looked from one to the other and decided she was going to have to earn their respect anyway. Which made this bickering pointless.

  Suddenly, she was angry with herself for letting them spoil the joy she’d felt after her performance in Arkas.

  “And now, with your permission, it was a long day. Good night.” Making an exemplary curtsey, Elena turned on her heel and walked out the door. Silence fell. Both Ashka and John stared at the door in disbelief.

  “I don’t believe this!” Ashka spat, but she looked taken aback.

  “You mean you don’t believe our daughter just wiping the floor with us both?” John asked thoughtfully.

  “I would have never put it like that,” objected his wife. “You should have taken my side!” she reproached him.

  John shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have. It would have been impertinent.” John was far too wise to get between two arguing women, let alone his wife and daughter. Usually, it was received with silent thanks. John stood up and embraced his wife. For a moment, they stood motionless.

  “She’s a naughty child, but you have to admit, she performed virtuously and definitely was no disgrace to us. And she’s grown into a beautiful young woman of good breeding. I dare say, she takes after you, my dear.”

  “Don’t you dare find excuses for her! She’s insolent and does whatever she wants with no regard to consequence.”

  John kissed his wife’s forehead and smiled at her.

  “She’s like a ricochet. You can’t be sure what she’ll get into her head next. We will have to watch over her,” Ashka sighed.

  John shook his head, aware that Ashka’s always wanted to have everything under control. She didn’t take it lightly, when it was otherwise

  “Success of that mission is quite unlikely. We will have to trust her good judgement,” John replied.

  “If someone finds out …”

  “Seriously, I am confident that Elena doesn’t want her powers to be known either. We will simply have to trust her.”

  “You sound like you approve of her behavior,” Ashka pushed the subject. Without a word of answer, John released her from his arms and walked to the window.

  Underneath his calm composure, rage boiled. Elena had simply sidestepped him! She’d dared to use Berber law against him. His law! What was even wors, she hadn’t used it against him, she’d used it to go around him. The cheek of it! On the other hand … He couldn’t deny her profound success in Arkas. Elena had managed to best quite a few very skilled warriors, and she’d done so fairly. Then, there were her arguments in the debate with Ashka. They were unsettling. Before she’d got herself carried away with emotion, her reasoning had been matter of fact and well thought out. Flawless. When supported by emotions, her words touched the raw. It was true that she had a lot to learn in the field of diplomacy, but she had a very good start for a sixteen-year-old. Maybe, she had a too good a start.

  The Berber welcomed their princess with enthusiasm and with the same enthusiasm judged her performance in Arkas. It was therefore the King’s duty to accept the will of his people. Which left Ashka to subdue her troublesome offspring. Acknowledging his disapproval of Elena’s actions would mean admitting he didn’t have his daughter under control. And a King who didn’t have control over his children was bound to lose the respect of his people. Pulling it off like that, manipulating him so! John was furious with Elena! But he remained silent.

  Elena marched through the corridors with Morpheus in her wake. This was not how she’d imagined her reunion with Mother. Though if she were to be honest with herself, she expected it. Gods! Why couldn’t she resist her mother’s provocation? She knew this was going to happen! Failon would not have been proud of her. With Mother, diplomacy seemed to fail her. Elena wasn’t sure, what put her on edge more, whether it was the fact that Ashka acted as if she owned Elena, or that she didn’t trust her.

  ◆◆◆

  John looked at his son. It was evident that Dars failed to grasp why he was called to an audience with the King. It was just as obvious that the interview was not only trespassing on his time, but annoying him also.

  “You have not been permitted to sit down,” John reproached icily.

  Surprised, Dars, who pompously, and without a word of greeting, slumped into the armchair opposite his father, stood up again.

  “What?” he managed, but was interrupted.

  “Silence! You were not permitted to speak. And it is customary to stand to attention when at an audience with the King!” Father scalded him again. He didn’t even raise his voice, speaking in level, but frosty tone. He was sitting with his elbows on the arm-rests, chin between index and middle fingers of interlocked hands. Unwillingly, Dars stood to slack attention. John remained silent till his son took the proper stand.

  “I demand an explanation!” the icy tone again.

  “I have no idea, what you’re talking about, father,” Dars protested haughtily. King John laid his hands on the arm rests, squeezing them tightly.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he raised his voice ever so slightly. “Your conduct in Arkas was shameful! You are of royal blood and you must behave accordingly!”

  Dars snorted scornfully. “I don’t know why you’re getting at me, father. As far as I know, it was Elena who …”

  “Don’t you dare!” John hissed at him. “We aren’t discussing your sister, we are talking about you. You used forbidden, deadly blows in trak combat and wrestling alike. In the Chase, you knocked several riders out of their saddles and you tried to do the same with your sister as well. Such behavior is intolerable! You’ve shamed the royal family. Pack your things and report to Aaron. You’ll be assigned to border patrol,” John announced. Dars grimaced disrespectfully, earning the kings reproachful frown. “Don’t get me wrong, you will be a regular soldier with no royal privileges.”

  At last, this took Dars aback. However, he was so used to getting away with everything, he believed his father’s decision could be sidetracked. Dars’s self-complacent expression could not pass unnoticed by his father.

  “For how long?” Dars asked.

  “Until further notice. Note, that your further deceitful conduct shall not be tolerated. This hearing is over,” John announced and watched Dars turn on his heal and walk away. His son was furious.

  “Your commander is to be saluted at departure, private!” the King barked at his son.

  “That was cruel, don’t you think?” Ashka was reproachful.

  “It was adequate,” John grumbled, not in a mood to give the matter further thought.

  “He didn’t deserve to be deprived of his royal privileges,” Ashka protested.

  Angry, John straightened to his full height. “Enough! My decisions shall not be discussed! We should have never allowed him to think such conduct was acceptable. We have spoiled him, I’m afraid. He is, however, one of the possible successors to the throne, and he must realize that all actions have their consequences. And he must learn to bear those consequences on his shoulders! We are a nation of warriors and he must follow the warriors’ code of conduct. Of all people, I expected you to understand that!”

  Ashka took a deep breath to retort, but the look in her husband’s eyes stopped her. Right then, she faced not only her husband and the father to her children, but most of all, the King. Though she sharply disagreed, it wasn’t wise to voice it now. She curtsied and angrily left the room.

  “Have ya’ heard it yet?” Michael sounded cheerful.

  “What? You’re talking in riddles again,” Elena complained halfheartedly.

  “Well, I thought ya’ might be missing Failon,” he grinned at her. “Anyhow, your dad clipped Darsie’s wings,” Michael announced happily. Elena raised her eyebrows uncomprehendingly.

  “Well, finally even John realized ya’ dear brother’s acting like a total nitwit.”

  “Watch your tongu
e, you are speaking of your King,” she scolded him.

  “I beg ya’ pardon! And he even decided to deal with him, can ya’ imagine? Dars is now under Aaron’s command as a private in a border patrol.”

  “Hm, interesting,” was the only reply his announcement received. He should have expected Elena not to react much. She appeared rather uninterested in the happenings around her brother.

  “Oh, come on! He’s been bossing ya’ around pretty much ya’ whole life, don’t ya feel a teeniest satisfaction?” Michael prompted. Elena shrugged.

  “As you said, he’s a nitwit as a rule. I don’t expect for that to change now, just because he’s been grounded. It’s bound to cause more trouble than gain.”

  “Ya’re a cynic!” Michael frowned. She shrugged again. “No one’s saying it will set him straight. That wouldn’t even cross my mind. But aren’t ya’ at least a bit happy that someone, finally, noticed?” Now, this comment earned a chuckle.

  “That public performance of his was sure hard to overlook. Like it or not, father simply had to do something this time.”

  “Watch ya’ tongue, ya’re speaking of ya’ father and ya’ king,” Michael mimicked her. Laughing, she threw the grooming brush she was using on Ashkent at him.

  ◆◆◆

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kristina Hlaváčková was born into a family of architects in former Czechoslovakia in 1979. She spent part of her childhood in Nigeria. Language skills gained in Africa landed her in Minnesota for a yearlong high school exchange. Kristina lives in Czech Republic, but loves to travel and does so whenever possible. She worked as a bartender, Head Receptionist in a law firm, Office Manager in an architectural studio, and in 2018 she began to work as an editor for one of the largest Czech publishers. Kristina is also a part time translator, hobby potter and ceramics teacher, golfer and skier. Despite being a blonde she know how to handle an axe, saw or a lawnmower. She bakes the best strudel and you would kill for her Christmas cookies. And of course she is an accomplished Czech writer.