Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

CHAPTER THREE

Camilla approached the washerwoman’s place from the opposite side she’d departed the day before. Best to always do things differently. It’s harder for others to anticipate your actions and, therefore, you live longer. Camilla settled down behind a small stand of thick briars. She spread them apart only enough to peer through. The old woman worked, as always. Alone. Not even a barking dog to warn of intruders.

Just as she was deciding it was time to come out from hiding and enter the yard, Robin called softly, “Going to remain out there all day, Camilla?”

How long had she known I was there? And how? Camilla stood and walked into the yard as if she had no cares, no sore legs, and no wounds hurting. A fresh application of the ointment soothed them, and most seemed to have already improved. She lugged the pole, one end dragging in the dirt. Her new knife rested between two thin strips of leather hastily sewn into the inside hip of her pants last night. She had practiced drawing it quickly but still fumbled.

The washerwoman already had several clotheslines drying her daily wash. She glanced at the end of the pole in Camilla’s hand and grinned. “Tired of carrying that staff, so you drag it on the ground? In time, that staff will feel as if it weighs nothing.”

Camilla nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, just acknowledging that she had heard.

“Don’t be ashamed. Carrying that staff with you was a simple test to see if you’d do as you’re told. You carried it all the way to your cave and back?”

Nodding, Camilla reached for and held out the knife. “You gave me this. Why?”

“It’s small, but you need a knife for chores like cleaning fish or meat. It’s a tool. And a weapon, if needed,” Robin responded smiling slyly. “It might trim your hair, too. While you’re hiding as a boy you must look the part, but that won’t last much longer, I’m thinking. You won’t be able to dress and act like a boy when you fill out in the hips and chest a little more.”

“That’s already happening.”

“I saw you without clothing yesterday. You have maybe a year left to hide behind the looks of a boy, if that long.”

Camilla held the pole out to her.

She shook her head with a small frown. Robin motioned for her to sit down on the stump again. “I started this story yesterday. We all have secrets, so now I’ll continue with telling you mine. As I told you yesterday, a long time ago a handsome man used to call on me. A warrior. I drew the attention of many handsome young men those days, but he was different. He had a dragon birthmark on his back and shoulder, similar to yours. The wings of his dragon circled his whole chest, almost touching.”

“He should not have shown it to you,”

Robin said. “It was one of the many secrets we shared.”

Camilla was on her feet. “But it was a mark like mine?”

“Sit, girl. Similar to yours. His dragon was larger and black. He could call down black dragons. I don’t think that means much of anything except that since your mark is red, you will only feel the touch of red dragons and no others. I could be wrong.”

“Feel red dragons?”

“He told me he could feel them when they were near, and call them down from the sky when needed. Black ones. If he was in pain, he said that any blacks nearby flew to help him. But he could always feel them if they were anywhere around. I never fully understood what he meant by that. You might know . . .”

Camilla hesitated, understanding the woman was trying to draw information from her. Camilla held little trust in anyone. Not even this woman who acted and talked like she was helping. She already shared two of her secrets, but the others remained hers. There was no way she’d mention the tingles along her spine when a red dragon passed overhead. “I don’t know anything about dragons except for the one on my back.”

The washerwoman watched and listened to her carefully and finally spoke in an urgent tone, “I see. There is more to my story, but you must never speak of any of this today to another person. Your life depends on it. If I find you have blabbered about the service I’m about to provide, I’ll kill you and deny all. My life is also at stake, and only the fond memory of a debt owed to a man of the Dragon Clan makes me help you.”

Camilla nodded and remained silent.

“My lover with the birthmark walked this world with a staff in his hand like the one I gave you, only bigger around and longer. He was a strong man. He carried it with him always. Do you know why?”

Camilla bit off several answers and more than a few questions, but instead of answering, she shook her head, wondering where this was going and if Robin would share more information about the design on her back. Nobody other than her family had ever seen it, and dim memories of them told her to keep it hidden or face danger. She shook her head to bring her thinking back to the present and paid attention to the story as if she was interested in this man who carried a stick.

“I’ll tell you why. A warrior with a staff, one who knows how to use it in battle will defeat a soldier with a sword.”

“No.” The word escaped before she could prevent it.

“Yes,” Robin countered without anger. “Commoners cannot carry swords, of course, but a walking staff is useful for herding goats or hiking, and legal for anyone to carry. But, it is also a weapon if properly used. You need a weapon if you desire to reach adulthood. If you learn to use it well, there will be no more beatings. I’ve thought about it, and there are two things you must do for me in return for the work as a herdsman, every day until your homecoming.”

When she paused, Camilla said, “It’s just a stick. I’d rather have a sword any day.”

“A staff, not a stick. And it’s one that I’ll use on you if you don’t shut your sassy mouth and pay attention. You promised to repay me for getting you the job of a herdsman. First, you must run every day. Uphill and down. Carry your staff with you and run until you can run no more . . . Then do it again. Second, you will find a tree and strike it with your staff like this.” She snatched the pole from Camilla’s hands in a smooth movement. Her hands slid to the end of the staff and swung it over her head in a great circle that struck a tree holding lines for laundry.

The tree quivered, and the hanging laundry shook. She quickly pulled it back and swung again to strike the other side of the tree with equal power.

The old woman stepped back and gripped the staff in the center as she lifted it over her head and twirled, spinning the staff with blinding speed. Then she lunged forward to the side of a shed and tapped a rhythm by alternating the ends of the staff until her breath came hard. She spun and faced Camilla again, the staff again whirling and spinning in intricate patterns in front of her as she danced with tiny steps.

A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow as she held the staff out to Camilla. “All day you will use the staff to walk while herding the goats and sheep. But you will also practice as I’ve just shown you. Make up your own movements and do them over and over until they feel natural. Begin with easy patterns. First strike a tree on one side, then the other. Like chopping it down. Until your arms are ready to fall off. You try.”

Camilla accepted the end of the staff. Until my arms fall off? She attempted to lift it as Robin had, near the end, but it was too heavy, unbalanced. She slid her hands lower. The change in balance let her lift it, but when she swung the upper end to strike the wall, the lower end hit her in the stomach.

A glance at Robin showed no trace of humor in the old woman’s expression, but Camilla also reappraised the woman’s age. Her hair retained most of the chestnut brown color, the wrinkles were not deep, and she moved with the grace of a young warrior. Robin was not an old woman, at least not as old as Camilla believed. Much of her estimation was based on perception, and Robin’s daily actions convinced others she was far older than she was.

Camilla tried to swing the pole again, managing to avoid the other end hurting her as she struck her target. The laundry on the line didn’t even jiggle with the weak attempt.

“You’ll learn. In doing this, you’ll get stronger each day. Your injured ribs need time to heal, but I want you to practice many times a day. Your back, arms, and legs will grow stronger. Practice here will build skills for you to learn. But if you run and swing this staff enough times your training will have begun. Those boys will soon leave you alone, I promise.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“I burned them. Not even good enough to save for rags.”

“What’ll I wear?”

“Wear the shirt and pants you have on.”

Camilla nodded. She had never worn such nice clothes, let alone owning them.

“By the time you arrive back here from your trip, your legs will be stronger, as will your arms and back. Your wounds will be healed. You will be ready to begin learning.”

“Just because I carry this stick while I run, and use it to hit trees and air?”

“Staff. It’s a staff, I say.” Robin snorted at her and smiled at Camilla’s innocence and persistence. She walked to her cabin and reached inside the door. “It deserves your respect. This is also for you, she said as she returned with a dark green bundle with a piece of rope tied to the ends. It’s a groundsheet that sheds water, and a blanket. Rolled inside is food. You loop the rope over your shoulder while you’re walking. There’s also two coppers and a sliver or two of iron. They are a loan, but you may need to buy food.”

“You’re treating me as if I’m leaving today.”

Robin knelt in front of her, taking her by her shoulders. “Camilla, you only need to leave today if you want to live until tomorrow. Those boys will beat you again if they find you. Run into them again and they will add to what they have already done. They may find you are a girl, and that won’t go well. Worst of all, they may discover that you are of the Dragon Clan. Then the whole village is in trouble, and maybe danger.”

“I’m keeping a lookout for them.”

“Didn’t you also keep a lookout for them yesterday?”

Camilla blanched but lifted her chin. “They won’t catch me again.”

“They can.” Robin squeezed Camilla’s shoulders harder with her needle-like fingers. “And they will. You cannot survive another beating. If they came running out of those trees over there at the edge of my cabin right now, can I protect the likes of you.”

A twist of Camilla’s shoulders broke her free. She screwed up her face as if to cry, but held it back. She squared her shoulders. “Give me the name of the man.”

“Arum, the herdsman.”

“Up the valley, you said. How far?”

Robin pointed, “Four days, maybe five because you’re so small and will take small steps. Follow the King’s road and after three days, ask for Arum of anyone you meet.”

“Okay, I’ll leave today.”

“Learning to defend yourself is not the only skill we will study when you return.”

“I said I’d go,” Camilla snarled, turning her back.

“When you return we will also take the time to also learn about manners and respect.” She cackled again as if she had said the funniest thing in a long time.

Camilla paused, then turned at the edge of the forest. “Do all washerwomen teach fighting skills?”

Robin’s face grew serious. “No. Only those of us who have had to fight for survival when we were your age. You are not the only one with secrets, you know.”