Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The Slave Master looked at the Weapons Master, then at his injured leg. Their eyes passed unspoken messages back and forth. “Can you stand?”

“With a crutch or cane, I can walk.”

The Slave Master looked around and saw no suitable sapling nearby.

The Weapons Master said, “I have my knife. If I crawl back to the road, I can make it. The first sapling that suits me will become a crutch or cane.”

“Nonsense,” Edward said. “Use my shoulder for support, and I’ll get you to the road.”

A look of respect crossed the Weapons Master’s face for a fleeting instant. Then he said, “I appreciate the offer and will fondly remember it as a genuine response. But, you’re going after the dragon boy. Or girl. The one you let escape with trickery.”

“But you need help to walk. I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” the Slave Master snapped. “The three of us are here to do our King’s bidding, not saving each other. I promise you that we’d leave you drowning in a heap of horse dung if it allowed us to complete our mission. I still might, if I find enough dung along the way.”

Edward said, “I’m tired. I followed them all day, then waited for them to sleep. I never got any.”

“Stop the royal bitching. You’ve had less sleep than either of us, and we’re twice your age. I intend to catch them before they move too far. They won’t expect us to travel that fast.” He nodded a farewell to the Weapons Master and turned to the trail across the rocks and boulders.

Edward followed him, retracing his same route. However, his mood was better, despite the harsh words. The two men were the King’s own henchmen, the ones he only dispatched on the most critical missions. His most trusted, and most powerful. Others rightfully feared them and leaped to gain the least bit of approval. Edward had seen the respect in the eyes of the Weapons Master when he had offered to walk him to safety. He’d also caught the fleeting glance the two exchanged.

Today he earned the respect he craved. Better yet, he’d earned it from two very hard men, and he hadn’t been trying to act the peacock, trying to impress them. He had just done what he believed was right. At a particularly difficult swampy area, he said, “Want me to take the lead? I’ve been this way twice.”

The Slave Master looked confused for an instant, then nodded.

Edward stepped ahead and swelled with confidence. “Step on the clumps of grass and move on quickly because they sink.”

“Shut up and get a move on before I leave you.”

Leave me? Edward quickly stepped across three more of the floating islands and placed a foot on a log he’d stood on earlier. A small hop and he found firm footing for both his feet. On impulse, he bent over, grabbing his ankle as if he’d twisted it. The end result was that he stood on the log while the Slave Master behind him sank deeper and deeper.

“Hey! Move on you damn fool.”

Edward glanced back. The Slave Master stood in muck to his knees with nowhere to go. “I think I’m all right. Just give me a second.”

Edward finally stood and stepped to the next thick clump of grass and weeds, and the next. He heard splashing and cursing behind, but didn’t dare look. He suppressed a smile. Who spanked who?

It was a dangerous game. If the Slave Master caught on it would cost Edward, his life. He considered leading him astray but realized that would never work. He picked up his speed on the next slope, hoping to tire the man. He must be close to sixty, even if his body looked like that of a twenty-year-old. One step after another, uphill, then down. Then up the slope of a mountain and down the other side.

No matter how fast he moved, the sound of the Slave Master remained right behind. They arrived at the place where the others had camped. Believing they would be gone, he made no attempt to sneak up on them. The Slave Master elbowed him as he stormed past.

“Wait here,” he snapped as if he was speaking to the old Edward, the inept boy who was the son of a powerful man.

The Slave Master bent and examined several tracks. He moved under the tree they’d slept under and looked at some more. He glanced up at Edward. “You hid over there?”

Edward glanced at the nearby trees and nodded.

“When they slept you crept up on them? Why?”

“I have my knife. I wanted to slit their throats before they knew I followed.”

“The old woman slept there. The boy and girl over here. How did you know which throat to cut?”

“I didn’t. I planned to use my knife to slice once left to right, and then again, right to left. Cut both the young ones, then turn and cut the old woman before she fully woke.”

The Slave Master rubbed his chin and thought before speaking. “I think I’d have done it the same way. What went wrong?”

“The girl. She must not have been asleep. Just as I was about to attack, she rolled and had a staff under her blanket. She used it to hit my shin. Twice.”

“And you went down.”

“Then she hit me again. On my kneecap. And later on my elbow.”

“Ouch. Did you know it was a girl?”

“I heard them talking. Otherwise, I would have said a boy.”

The Slave Master examined the campsite again. When he finished, he looked at Edward, who still had not advanced since being told to remain. “You had the right idea. The King is terrified of dragons since his father was flown away and dropped. We’re going to kill this dragon girl. I’ll give you credit for the kill.”

“Why?”

“When you are the Earl, people must respect and obey you. It’s just politics.”

“If I’m given credit, my father will be pleased with you. Is that why?”

“As I said, it’s just politics. Time to move on. I’ll take the lead.”

Edward fell in behind and looked at the back of the Sword Master with distaste. Just politics. The two words gagged him. Give the pampered twit credit for the kill in front of the King and the Earl, and in their eyes the Sword Master could do no wrong. His every wish would be granted. And when the King and Earl died, both being old men, the young Earl called Edward would be there to remember and grant favors.

Favors to a man who threatened to spank him this very day.

After crossing the ridges and slopes of more hills and small mountains, they moved slower. The Slave Master paused on one treeless ridge where he could see ahead. “They’re passing south of Bear Mountain, but there is a line of smaller mountains there. My guess is they’re going to head east for just a while longer, then turn south and move parallel to those peaks in the distance.”

“Are you thinking of turning south here and cutting them off?”

“No. What bothers me is that they’re moving too deliberately. Almost as if they know where they’re going.”

Edward said, “If they have a destination in mind, there’s nothing ahead.”

“Turning north takes them up Bear Mountain, and that’s impossible with the snow. East is solid mountains, and we are behind them so they can’t move west. They have to turn south.”

Edward remained quiet. While the Slave Master sounded like he’d figured it all out, Edward hoped he hadn’t. The boy and girl and even the old woman had seemed like good people who were scared. The people at the inn in Nettleton were far nicer than the King’s men. Edward questioned which side he’d rather be on if given a choice.

He’d heard stories from the time he was small of the exploits of the King’s men. People from other kingdoms taken as prisoners and slaves. When opponents surrendered, the officers were often killed in front of their men as lessons. That was just before they were made to work in deep mines, or worse. Just politics.

Besides, he’d realized this morning that killing children was not for him. If he continued with the Slave Master, he’d be forced to witness killings, if not take part in them. It turned his stomach.

He walked on the path behind the Slave Master thinking of how to rid himself of the task. A sprained ankle was too obvious. He could pick up a branch and use it as a club to attack the older man, but if anything went wrong, he’d forfeit his life.

Looking at the back of the man he considered that idea. How many had died at the hands of the man he followed? How many died because his King was worried about dragons? How many slaves lived their miserable lives repatriating for the sins of their kings? In a kingdom that condemned slavery, yet it existed in every wealthy household.

Edward came to the realization he would have to take sides. Taking none equated to the same thing. If he took no action nothing changed, as if he agreed with it. As an Earl, what would he do?

If he was not destined to be an Earl, would he prefer to live as a slave or servant in the grand palace, or be a free man and cook meals at the Red Dog?

The primary difference was that he actually liked the people in Nettleton. He couldn’t say the same for those in Princeton.

The Slave Master pointed to footprints where the path dipped, and the ground was soft and springy. “Fresh. Water’s still seeping in. We’re closing in on them.”