The Last Dragon: Book Four

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The boat sailed on into the unknown sea and dark of night. We watched the few lights on the shore, but Captain kept the boat safely out in deeper water. Twice he examined charts by moonlight. As the night grew on, I started to wonder if he ever slept.

When I offered to relieve him, he refused, telling me he’d doze where he sat, and if the sail or tiller changed position, he’d awaken. He assured me our boat would find Malawi around mid-day. His charts revealed the coastline, with the information a fisherman or sailor required. They told nothing of what lay inland, or what the cities looked like, their size, or political makeup.

Elizabeth fell asleep and I remained on my feet. The known problems we faced worried me, but there were other things, too. One, in particular, had taken hold in my mind and refused to let me sleep.

It concerned me. My magic. And what little I knew of the world of magic. My magic had been with me since I was a small boy. Later, when Kendra and I went to free the dragon, my magic increased or waned depending on the distance to that dragon—or to Wyvern. The dragon provided far more essence, but my magical abilities were so small that even when they were close, I could only move a few drops of water or similar feats.

Things had changed. Kendra’s dragon was across the sea, somewhere at the edge of the Brownlands south of Dagger, several days sail away. There were no Wyverns or at least none we’d seen. Yet my powers had increased instead of diminished.

No, that was too slight a description. They had expanded, increased, and evolved. I could ‘speak’ with Anna in my mind, seemingly from any distance. Creating storms, albeit small ones, had become routine. Condensing water at my fingertip a daily task. I even tamed lighting and reformed it into a crown for my princess.

But two points kept me awake. There was no essence nearby to draw from, and yet my powers were increasing. It was not a matter of learning more. I felt magic growing inside me, taking charge. How and why were to pair of questions that bothered me.

“Better get yourself a bit of sleep,” Captain said. “While you can.”

I moved to the bench opposite him. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Done this a hundred times, don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t sleep. Things on my mind. Listen, I’m sorry to put you in this situation and hopefully, your family doesn’t suffer.”

He didn’t answer for so long I thought he wouldn’t. When he did, it was simple. “If I didn’t help and your Young Mage came for us, as he will for everyone, wouldn’t it be my fault? At least part of it?”

“That’s a generous way to look at things, Captain.”

We sat in silence. Eventually, I stood, gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder and joined Elizabeth sleeping under the tarp at the bow.

The morning sunlight woke me. Elizabeth now sat beside Captain. Gulls circled above, screaming, diving, and calling to us for scraps. It seemed they were familiar with fishing boats and the bounty to be had with what was discarded.

The land was still in sight off to our left, barren and rocky. The heat already told of a hot day ahead. I found a bruised apple in my pack and took a bite as I looked around.

Four black dots in the sky ahead drew my attention. Their odd manner of flapping their wings was familiar. They turned slightly and flew directly at us.

Wyvern. Four of them. I shouted and pointed, “Look!”

Captain quickly lowered the sail. I leaped to the bow and grabbed my sword. Elizabeth did the same, as Captain hefted a long club used for killing large fish the nets hauled in. I stood in the bow, Elizabeth near the mast, and Captain the stern.

One of them screeched as if to alert the others and flew faster. The other three did the same. Their eyes were locked on us.

I’d fought them before, the first time on the mountain top in Mercia where the true dragon had been chained. They had dived in and slashed with beaks or talons. We had nowhere to hide, much like now. I remembered Anna asking about swimming to shore. That might be our only option, soon.

The lead creature swept down and flew past. I dived just in time to avoid the claws reaching for me. They were faster than I recalled, but back then I also had a dragon twice their size fighting with me.

Another dived and approached just above the surface of the water. I was better prepared. While ducking, my sword slashed above my head, at first encountering nothing, then it was almost yanked from my hand as the blade cut deeply.

A Wyvern screamed in pain and blood splattered. I turned to look. A cut as long as my leg along the thigh bled and blood streamed from it. However, it pivoted and aimed for us again.

Captain yelled, “When one of them hits the boat, we’ll sink. Grab something that floats and use it to head for shore. We’ll meet up there.”

That was a plan. Not a very good one because the Wyvern would snatch us from the water at will. None of us had a bow. I searched around for a weapon that would keep them at bay. There was nothing.

Or, was there? My mind had stalled when I’d spotted them. I had my magic, my new and improved magic. I just didn’t know how to use it very well.

With a Wyvern winging directly at me, I calmed my mind, reached out and quickly gathered the energy from the sun that created the first crown I’d made for Elizabeth, the one that set her hair on fire. I drew it tighter, then focused on a place in the air in front of the Wyvern. I forced the energy to form a ball, then ‘scattered’ it like blowing leaves in the fall.

The brilliant golden ball of energy forced the Wyvern to dodge to one side, the silent explosion of golden light scared the creature, even if I’d misjudged and missed it. It beat its wings harder and flew higher and faster, turning away.

“Look out!” the call came from Elizabeth.

I ducked just in time to avoid the slashing beak of another. It scared me, and my anger soared with that fear. Without thinking, I formed water on the breast of the Wyvern, then heated it to steam. It screamed, fell from the sky until barely recovering almost at the surface, and it flew awkwardly away.

I think I scalded it, at least scared it as much as it had scared me. The one bleeding flew in the direction of land. That left one still with us. It circled high above, either waiting its turn when we were not paying attention or spying on us and probably telling the Young Mage our position. I sent water to form on it, a lot of water, enough to cover its entire body. Then I heated it to steam again.

The Wyvern managed one weak scream then tumbled awkwardly from the sky, spinning and shrieking, trying to flap its wings and regain control. It struck the surface of the water with a great splash, floated for a short while, then sank.

“You did that?” Captain asked.

Elizabeth said to him, “You don’t want to tell anyone about what just happened, whatever it was.”

Captain said with a wicked grin, “Some already think a few of my true tales are lies. This one never gets told or they’ll know for sure I’m a liar.”

Elizabeth noticed how I gripped the railing on the edge of the hull, how my knees grew weak, and maybe my glazed eyes. She rushed to me in time to help lower me to the rough boards of the deck. I heard her asking if I was all right, but the sound of her voice seemed distant and unimportant.

I passed out.

I woke with Elizabeth kneeling over me as I lay in the bottom of the boat. It was under sail again, the sun seemed higher, so the time had passed. My memory triggered the attacking Wyverns and I sat abruptly upright, as I checked the empty sky.

“Easy,” she soothed me.

“What happened?”

She stroked my forehead, “We think you used so much energy to do whatever you did back there, that it sapped your strength. Just rest for a while.”

I did as she said, not because she ordered it, but because my body was so weak. My eyes closed again, and I slept until she shook me awake late in the day. “We’re almost there.”

Standing on wobbly legs, I looked ahead to find the entrance of a long, narrow bay, both sides lined with stone buildings, some three stories tall. Near the edge of the bay were docks, piers, warehouses, and merchant ships, fishing boats, ferries, and barges. The activity reminded me of the Port of Mercia in Dire, only exaggerated ten times.

Captain called, “Better get your things together.”

He didn’t intend to remain long. He’d already explained his family would be worried, so he planned to sail home as fast as possible. I refilled his water jugs to overflowing. It was the least I could do.

He sailed to a dock that had a few boats tied up on the other side, none too prosperous from the looks. I climbed out first and reached back to pull Elizabeth on to the dock.

“Hey, you can’t tie up here,” a rude and officious voice shouted as a portly man stiffly walked in our direction. His face was red.

Captain tossed our few things after us on to the dock as he shouted back, “I’m on my way, sir. Sorry to use your dock without asking.”

While it sounded friendly, there was a sharpness to his tone. He also never slowed in his tasks or looked up while he answered. Once our things were on the dock, Captain slipped the single line holding his boat to it, and he pushed off. As he did, he swept the rudder and used the gentle breeze and tide to push him farther out into the bay and the slight wind partially turned the boat as it moved it away.

The man on the dock reached us and shouted at Captain, “Hey, get your ass back here and pay me dockage fees.”

Captain cupped his ear with his hand and shouted back, “You have a pain in your back? Why are you telling me that? I don’t even know you.”

“I didn’t say my back hurt, I said come back and pay me.” He turned to Damon. “Do you know him?”

“We just hitched a ride on a ferry from across the bay.”

“Then you owe me a day’s dockage fees.” The man moved closer to Damon, hands on hips, fists balled, face redder.

Elizabeth said in a calm fashion, “If you have a problem with that boat, take it up with the owner.”

“I’m saying I’m taking it up with you,” he shouted from less than a step away. “They say I’m the best fighter on the waterfront, so either pay up or get ready to face me.”

She smiled sweetly and innocently in the way she did before she gave someone a verbal sucker punch. “Wonderful. That is very nice of you to introduce yourself. I always say you should know your customers. Let me introduce Damon, the champion swordsman of the entire kingdoms of Dire, Kaon, and Kondor.”

The man hesitated.

She continued, leaning closer as if sharing confidential information with him, “Don’t you worry about his temper, sir. It isn’t nearly as bad as they say.” She turned to me with a wink he couldn’t see. “Damon, please, keep your sword sheathed for a change and do not kill this man. We’ve been kicked out of too many cities because you can’t control yourself and left bodies lying around.”

I wondered what the proper response would be but didn’t need it as the man turned and stalked down the dock, looking over his shoulder a few times to make sure we were not in pursuit. I belted my sword in place, tossed my pack over my shoulder, and watched Elizabeth do much the same.

At the end of the dock, we started walking up the long slope to where the larger, better-maintained buildings seemed to be located. As we reached a crossroad, a wagon pulled alongside. The driver called to us with an inviting smile that showed too many white teeth, “Ride?”

I started to throw my things in.

Elizabeth blocked me and spoke to the driver, “How much?”

“Oh, we can discuss that while you ride.” His smile was wide, his tone friendly. “Or if you insist on paying now the cost is a full Crown.”

Elizabeth smiled back. “A crown? Isn’t that a little expensive?”

“Not when I don’t know where you’re going. It could be anywhere, so I have to protect myself, know what I mean?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said while removing a silver Crown between her thumb and forefinger. She reached out her other hand to shake. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, his eyes locked on the coin he never expected to earn. His hand engulfed hers and they shook.

I remained quiet. I’d seen the predatory look in her eyes too many times to interfere or try to protect her. She didn’t need any help.

She started to throw her bag in the wagon and hesitated a moment before saying to the driver, “You’re sure about this?” At the nod of his head, she continued loading our things, “Okay, please drive us to Landor, to the south side of the castle and drive carefully, please. It’s a long way from here.”

“Landor? Are you crazy?”

“No, just a very good businesswoman who has accepted an offer and sealed it with a handshake that any constable will agree is a binding contract. A single Crown has been offered and accepted for the entire trip. Must I call the authorities and tell them you have accepted payment, shook hands on it, and now change your mind?”

“I am not taking you all the way to Landor. That is two or three days from here.”

I turned my head to hide my smile. Behind me, I heard her call loudly, “I offer a full silver Crown to the first person to bring a constable or town sheriff to me.” She held it up higher for all to see. “A Crown for a little help.”

“Wait,” he said, trying to quiet her. “You cheated me.”

“Not yet, I haven’t.” She lowered the coin and said in a conciliatory tone. “But you were going to cheat me. Perhaps we can start over?”

I watched the negotiations and realized both were masters at what they were doing. Myself? I’d have just paid him or refused the ride. Elizabeth intended to best the other, and the same went for the driver.

He said, “Tell you what. As long as you’re not going to South Malawi, or across the bay, you can name your destination and what you are willing to pay. I trust you.”

She threw her bag into the back of the wagon. “The silver Crown is still an option for you. We are new to the city and require information that we will gladly pay for—if it is honest and accurate, as well as the ride. If we get what we want, the Crown is only a beginning.”

I threw my bag beside her and allowed her to slip past me to climb onto the seat beside the driver. I’d been regulated to the rear seat. However, as I took it, I realized she had placed me directly behind him where my knife was as good as a squad of crack soldiers. She turned to me and her grin told me it hadn’t been an accident.

She introduced us, using only our first names and no titles.

He told us his name with a swagger, “Honest Bran. Ask anyone. The best carriage driver in the city.”

Elizabeth laughed out loud without trying to contain herself. “Next, I suppose you’re going to tell us your parents chose ‘Honest’ as your first name?”

“Well, no. They chose Bran.”

She faced him as he lightly touched the small whip to the rear of the horse, “And who gave you Honest as your first name?”

“I guess I earned it,” he said defensively.

Elizabeth’s laughter rang out again. Then she said, “Okay, Honest, let’s see how honest you are with me. I have dozens of questions.”

“For a Crown, you can ask twice that many.”

She said, “Great. How much should I have paid for a ride to anywhere this side of the bay?”

“No more than a Scar.”

“Scar? I’m not familiar with that denomination.”

He made a small hole with his thumb and forefinger. “Copper about this big.”

She didn’t hesitate at all when she said, “How many Scars to a Crown? Ten?”

“More than that,” he laughed gleefully.

My thoughts were that he not only intended to charge us a Crown and cheat us but now thought it funny. If it were my decision, we’d climb down from the carriage and walk. Instead, we rode in comfort not knowing one end of the city from another as I left our fate to my princess.

The buildings we passed were unlike those at home in Dire, but also unlike Kondor. The walls were made of soft sandstone, a poor choice in a wet kingdom to the north, but in the Brownlands, there was little rain and the blocks were large. Far larger than expected. They would last for centuries.

Of course, it also took fewer of them to build a structure because of their immense size, many the width of a man laying down, and half the height of his standing, but sandstone is much lighter so easier to lift into position. It was easily sculpted and had been. Scrolls, whirls, peaks, and other designs graced the buildings. The tiny windows were set high on walls under overhangs, or on the north side of buildings to avoid the direct sun. They were to let light inside, keep the heat out, the insides remain cool.

The streets were paved with large blocks of what looked like granite but may have been some other hard stone. The centers of all streets dipped, so the surface of each street formed a shallow V. When it rained, the water would flow to the middle and away. It also made the city street self-cleaning to an extent, while giving people on the two sides a place to walk with dry feet. That design could be appreciated in any city, but the detail and thought explained that the leaders of Malawi were far beyond anything I’d encountered.

Elizabeth asked where a brother and sister would stay, a respectable inn located at the center of the better part of the city, perhaps near the government offices, or the palace.

He kept the carriage on the same route as if he’d known where they would want to go.

She said, “Shall we call you Honest or Bran? Or both? While you’re thinking, I change my mind. We need a good inn, let’s say the best in the city, and it is fine with us if you collect a little extra from them for taking us there. We will also have the need for your services as our personal guides in the days to come if you are available to accept a commission.”

His smile grew.

She talked, he answered, until we knew where the best part of the city was located, that it was ruled by a very old king who was ill with three strong sons, one of whom was recovering from a recent accident while riding his horse. He’d taken quite a spill and was recovering from the fall. Just like in other kingdoms.

I began appreciating Elizabeth more and more. Her intimate conversation on the seat of the wagon revealed one critical tidbit of knowledge after another. Without him, it would have taken days to acquire a hint of what he shared with us.

It turned out that for what he termed a “modest fee” he could be our personal guide, proponent, driver, and confident. If we needed or wanted something—he could provide it. Always for a small price, of course.

I found I didn’t like his earthy good looks, his quick smile, or his wit. I didn’t like the way he seemed to have moved his hip closer to Elizabeth as the carriage bumped along the stone road. I told myself it was not jealousy and found it hard to lie to myself convincingly.

Elizabeth finally decided to use Bran as his name. He debated that until she explained that nobody trusted a man who calls himself honest. She also told him to change into different clothing, more restrained, and less green. Nobody trusts a man in green either.

As we arrived at a beautiful three-story brick structure with a sign of a black swan trimmed in gold, a coachman leaped to help us dismount the carriage. He paused as he saw our tattered clothing, sweat-stained and filthy from days of traveling. His eyes swept across us dismissively.

Our driver spoke first, “What’re you doing standing there my man? The inn has traveling guests, don’t you recognize them for what they are?”

The coachman, a man of middle age and impeccable manners was dressed in a uniform made of pale blue material so thin and well-made it was fit for a king. Literally. The stitches were tiny, almost unseen. Not a speck of dirt or a single stain ruined the illusion of wealth and power. And he was only the man who greeted carriages and helped the passengers to the ground—a very important position, it seemed.

Elizabeth nodded her thanks to our driver and lifted her chin. “If I am as important as my driver believes, you should be fawning at my feet. If I am not, and you treat me well, you lose a little self-respect, however, think about it. If I am who he says and report you to your superiors, you may lose far more.”

His hand raised uncertainly to assist Elizabeth.

I accepted his hand and waited for Elizabeth to provide more instructions to Bran. She turned to the coachman and said, “Sir, where is it proper for my private carriage and driver to wait for my call?”

“There are stables in the rear for the use of guests and their servants.”

She turned to Bran. “Please take your carriage around back, my faithful servant. I’ll have need of you after our meal.”

Honest Bran clucked his horse and departed to the far end of the building while the coachmen escorted us inside, fawning over us as much as Elizabeth suggested. I meekly followed, as much cowed by her as the coachman.

The incident remains clear in my mind because it was a different Princess Elizabeth than at home. It was no longer a hint or demonstration for a few moments. She had learned the art of demanding others to treat her as a superior.

That was not the first time I’d seen, heard, and understood her new powers, but it fixed it in my mind. She had become royal in every sense of the word. She might be wearing clothing that crossed a sea and a desert, her hair might hang in oily curls, and her hands might be shades darker with dirt than her skin, but only a fool would fail to see the woman inside.

It reminded me of a peasant saying from when I was a child. The exact circumstances are forgotten, but it went something like: Even kings get dirty and need to bathe.

We entered a carved double-door with painted fish apparently eating the tail of the one in the front as they swam in a circle around the outside of each door. Inside were other fish, small, large, and all carved into dark woods with a skill seldom seen.

There was not a dining room inside the door as expected, and where we’d found them in other inns. Instead, we entered a cloakroom with a counter on one side to hold our capes, coats, hats, and whatever else we brought inside with us. The other side held another counter, one ornately carved—without fish. However, vines and leaves tangled and intertwined, and behind the counter, a stern woman sat on a tall stool.

She looked up. Her eyes went briefly to the coachman, who probably gave her a signal of some sort because she leaped to her feet and welcomed us as if we were long-lost family. Obviously, the coachman was the gatekeeper for the inn. Patrons had to pass his inspection to be allowed inside, and he had relayed the importance of the new guests to the woman who was smiling at us.

She was dressed better than the coachman. Three fingers wore sparkly rings. A necklace of black stones set off the low-cut front, yet somehow it seemed tasteful and conservative. She was one of those women who tended to speak with their hand motions and waves of her arms.

We had the same routine with the palace guards at Crestfallen. As one of the few servants assigned directly to a royal, I knew the code we used. It was simple. The palace guard allowed his free hand to hover over his thigh, waist, or ribs. A royal visitor of any rank drew his free hand to his chest-buttons on his uniform. The higher the button, the more important the person.

The coachman had identified us as important. Important enough to enter the grand building, and he had probably keyed some of that information from Honest Bran who would also reveal information about his customers.

“Welcome to the Black Swan. Will you be just dining with us, or do you plan on staying with at our inn?”

At that time, Anna popped into my head like a playful explosion. *Have you arrived safely?*