The Last Dragon: Book One

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kendra might have magic powers? My mind shifted again to follow that line of thought as we sat beside the campfire after the visit from the Blue Lady. I still sat in the dirt and allowed my thoughts to stray further from our conversation. The idea Kendra might control magic had never occurred to me. I was used to thinking of her as my younger, weaker sister that needed my protection while I performed magic. Our relationship had been that way . . . always.

My memories strayed back to our childhood before Elizabeth had rescued us. We talked about “before” and remembered little. However, there was a vague image of a woman who remained in my mind, and a man standing silently at her side.

The man was tall, strong, and handsome. He reminded me of me. At least, that’s my recollection. The woman was less clear in appearance, but somehow more forceful. No, not forceful as in fighting, but as in being a leader with her personality. She led the man. She was in charge.

Then, perhaps he was not my father but a servant or soldier, both thoughts I’d never had in the past. The idea intrigued me. Since both of them had disappeared from our lives, Kendra and I had speculated almost daily as to what had happened.

Then came the hard times, the fights for scraps of food, the wet and cold, the beatings, and most of all the sense of being alone except for each other. As the eldest, I became the head of our household, which for a while was a damp space under the bottom floor of a boarding house. We removed a pair of boards behind a holly bush and crawled in after dark each night. There we kept all we owned, which were three tattered blankets, a few trinkets, and extra clothing.

Rats ate any food we left out, so we immediately devoured what we obtained through begging, theft, and guile. I used my small magic to divert merchant’s attention while we stole an apple or two. A coin spilled from a purse was left unseen due to me. Without it, we would not have survived, although we didn’t know at the time it was a unique skill. What I did understand was that if anyone suspected or hinted at what magic was performed, I’d get a beating. That taught me to hide my crude abilities, such as they were.

However, not once in all that time had the idea that my sister might also have magic abilities crossed my mind. The revelation by the Blue Woman shook my beliefs to my core. Even if what she’s said was not true, she had given us plenty to think about.

I opened my eyes and found my sister. “Kendra?”

“Yes?” She was still kneeling beside me—waiting and concerned.

“Have you ever felt, or thought about, controlling magic?”

“Of course.”

My heart sank as I struggled to sit up. Again, I was caught unaware. “Tell me.”

“Well, it’s natural enough. You have magic abilities, and I wanted the same. If you’re asking if I ever believed it was possible, the simple answer is, no. When we were young, trying to imitate my big brother was expected. I tried to copy some of the magic things you did, but as we grew older, we realized and accepted that only you could do them.”

That seemed both reasonable and understandable. I went back to following the course of my previous thoughts. “Maybe magic abilities are inherited, not learned. I might have gotten them from our mother and father.”

“Meaning?” she asked, obviously not making the connections.

“If one or both of them controlled magic, or essence, as the Blue Woman called it, and since we know I can control it—it makes sense to me that you might, too.”

She didn’t immediately object or refute my statement. I still sat on the ground. Slowly standing, I worked my way to my feet and over to the pile of firewood, then idly placed a few more pieces on the fire, while waiting. Kendra would speak when she was ready.

“Damon, is that your real name? The one you were born with? Is Kendra mine?”

Like me, she was now questioning everything we believed we knew. Good. When she told me what she was thinking, I’d compare the information with mine, a task we’d performed a hundred times, always hoping to discover something new. “I’m not sure about my name, but I’ve only ever thought of you as Kendra. So, that is probably your real name.”

“You could be wrong.”

“Maybe. But, it is one of the few things I’m fairly sure about.”

She joined me beside the fire, taking my hand in hers. She shivered, not from the cold. “Only Damon for you, too.”

“She, the Blue Woman, accused you of controlling too much of the essence of the world. She might control magic of a different sort. Mine is different from hers and also different from that of mages and sorceresses. That makes at least four kinds of magic.”

Kendra shivered again, her fingers threatening to snap mine in her solid grip. “Agreed. Mine may be any of the others, or possibly even a fifth kind. Whatever that means. I’m so confused at all this my mind is swirling and unable to concentrate on anything.”

“Me, too.”

She paused, then went on as if with a new thought, “Still, all the magic she mentioned seem to come from a single source. If that is true, there is just one kind and different uses.”

Her assessment eased my mind instantly. Like various dancers to the same music. It was far easier to think of it in that sense than five different kinds of magic. “We’ve figured some of this out.”

“How can you say, we?” she wondered aloud. “But even if we have managed to figure out part of it, there is a lot more.”

I shut my eyes. The red/orange light of the campfire filtered through my eyelids, making it seem almost daylight. My unconscious mind seemed to creep forward and speak for me. “We are both near twenty-years-old, educated, and intelligent. We need to begin a discrete investigation into our backgrounds beyond what was done years ago. Who were our parents? Where did they come from? And why did they leave us at the same time? Did they die or abandon us?”

“If we both inherited magic,” Kendra continued as if she read my mind, “then it stands to reason they also controlled it. If they did, they probably used it to better their lives, and may have become prominent.”

“So, they would be remembered in some circles,” I finished for her. “Maybe feared in others.”

She said, “We should tell Elizabeth all we know.”

“All?” The word was out of my mouth before I could prevent it.

Kendra let loose of my hand and took a step back. Those simple actions spoke more than a conversation.

I said, trying to defend myself, “Yes, we should consider well before we tell her. If for no other reason than because the knowledge of what we’re discussing tonight might place her in danger.”

“How?” Kendra demanded, her face twisted in anger.

“I don’t know. What about the Blue Woman who was here? She controlled magic and hurt me when I touched her. She could do the same to Elizabeth.”

“There is more you haven’t said.”

I relented. “Did you get the impression that there are sides to using magic?”

Kendra nodded. “I think she might have used the word, evil.”

“Which side are we on?”

[PWE – Ruminations on the past seem lengthy] Kendra nodded, then said, “How do we make a discrete investigation? Just by asking questions will tell others what we’re interested in. You know that.”

I picked up a blanket and placed it on her shoulders, then another for me. This conversation might take a while. “First, a few assumptions. Since we were young when found by Elizabeth, we probably didn’t travel far to get there. I mean, we probably didn’t even travel from the next town or city. That means our family home was in Dire, near the Palace. With our parents.”

“We might have all traveled there from some far-off place.”

I considered and relented. “Okay, our parents’ home may have been, but when we were young it was probably in or near the palace. People do not usually become influential until after the age of thirty, so anyone who interacted with our parents are now aged over fifty. Agreed?”

“I don’t see how that helps.”

“We can assume our parents were about the same ages. How many upper-class, thirty-year-old people with a young boy and girl—who were not royalty—could there have been in Dire twenty years ago? Especially ones that look like you and me?”

“How can you possibly draw all that from the little we know?”

I said, “We can exclude any idea that they were royal. If they were, there would be rumors all over about them, their deaths, our abduction, or whatever. There would be questions about the children, and the king would have inquired about locating them. He would also remember meeting them—and us. Since none of that happened, we can assume our parents were lesser-born.”

“So, we begin our search by finding non-royal people over fifty who may have either known our parents or met them in the course of business.”

“We can narrow it down more. They were teaching us to read and do math, which is uncommon for peasants. We can assume they were not farmers, shopkeepers, or uneducated tradesmen. The one image I have retained has our mother dressed well, in a long gown, and the man standing beside her is our father. He looks wealthy and powerful.”

Kendra shrugged and remained quiet for a time. Finally, she said, “There are not a lot of wealthy people who are not part of the royal family. You can count those I know on one hand.”

“Exactly. There is the woman, Raven, who imports gemstones, and that spice merchant from Garland named Windsor. And the widow, Ella.”

“Her husband owned a fleet of trading ships before he was lost at sea, so she met a lot of travelers, which might have been what we did. And there are only a few more that I can think of. An investigation along those lines shouldn’t take long.”

I said, “And there are also Others. High-ranking priests, military officers, and a few importers who generally fit the category. Mages and sorceresses also come to mind. We have only to speak to perhaps twenty people. If our parents were affluent, at least one of those should have encountered them. If all that is true and so easy to find, why have none of them come forward?”

Kendra pulled the blanket around her tighter and avoided my eyes. I shut up and let her think because she was about to say something important. “Damon, that Blue Woman. Who was she, and why does she care if I use too much essence? How will that allow the forces of darkness to emerge?”

“It’s all a mystery.”

She continued, “In your mind, imagine a wine pitcher, tall, with a bulbous bottom and thin neck. When too much essence is poured from it, the dregs of wine at the bottom flow out. Those are forces of darkness.”

Kendra had subtly changed the subject and went to the heart of a problem in a way I hadn’t considered. “Do you remember all the Blue Woman said?”

“No. Do you?”

I hesitated. Was there a way to use my small-magic to recreate the visit? If so, I didn’t know how, but there was another way. “Get your writing kit and give me paper and pen. I’ll start at the beginning, recreating every sentence. You do the same. Then, we will compare. What one forgets, the other will remember.”

She liked the idea. No more talking to distract us or influencing each other with what we remembered. We sat with crossed knees, and I balanced paper in my lap while writing. It took half the night until satisfied I’d jotted down every detail. Kendra was sleeping, so I did too. The exercise hadn’t recalled any new information for me, but it might for Kendra. Besides, in the coming days we would want to review it again, and now we had it written down so our memories wouldn’t fog.

Tater woke us early. “Grab what you want to eat and carry it with you in the saddle. We gotta get over the pass before dark today, and worse, I think a storm’s comin’.”

Elizabeth climbed to her feet looking refreshed and ready to travel, party, dance, or climb a mountain. The sleep the Blue Lady had promised had been accurate. Even Tater looked unusually eager as Springer raced in circles and acted like a puppy. Elizabeth took one look at Kendra and turned to me. Clearly, she knew something had happened last night, but let it pass—for now. She would return to the subject when she had time to question us fully.

Kendra helped me with the packhorses, and whispered with a touch of humor, “Now, you’re gonna get it.”

“Am not,” I responded with a brotherly laugh. Once in the saddle, the sway of my horse threatened to put me asleep. I wore a blanket over my cloak to ward off the intense cold. The snow deepened and hid the road, the sky darkened, and more tiny flakes fell. They were more ice than snow.

Tater had to dismount and kick aside drifts to find traces of the path a few times. There were also a few blazes on trees provided by previous travelers. It followed the contour of the landscape. I would have expected my mind to be centered on the events of the night before, but it was not. My brain insisted on considering what would happen in two or three days when we arrived in Mercia and waited at the gates for Lord Kent and Princess Anna, and the servant, Avery to arrive. I looked forward to the confrontations.

The scandal of Lord Kent and Princess Anna traveling alone together was enough to bring down a royal house, so the fact they’d done it openly revealed more. I had no idea of what that might be. Whatever their motivation, it must be important to jeopardize their reputations. No, more than important, it must be critical.

Whatever their reasons, I mentally pictured us waiting at the city gate as they approached on the road and saw us there for them. What would their reactions be? Clearly, they had wished to ride ahead and arrive first. Would their expression reveal fear, anger, distrust, or even, as unlikely as it might be, pleasure?

Bringing my thinking back to the present, it was cold. With a small twitch of my forefinger and a little applied magic, the air under my cape warmed. I sighed with content before feeling guilty at not doing the same service for Kendra and Elizabeth. Tater would never know, but I gave him a small burst of warm air. Not hot air, but warm. Then I did the same for each of the women, only warmer. Enough to stop the shivers. My forefinger pointed and twitched at each of them in turn, and a while later I intended to do it again.

Ahead, Elizabeth felt the sudden warmth and turned. She flashed me a grateful smile. I didn’t have to look behind to my sister to know she felt the same. The short days of winter meant we didn’t have much daylight to travel, so we hurried. A stale biscuit and later a strip of dried, spiced meat with three kinds of pepper became my meal. After that, I wanted to stop and drink, but where streams might flow in summer, only snow and ice existed.

I kept an eye on Tater. As the snow deepened, he’d reached down and grabbed Springer under his belly and brought him to ride in the saddle, sitting ahead of Tater and enjoying the scenery. Now and then, we passed by a small crater in the soft snow where he’d spat.

The horses trudged on, until at last Alexis’s gait subtly changed. We were heading down instead of up. We had passed the crest of the mountain pass and were on the other side. The snow came up to the hocks of Alexis and made the going hard. I stayed in the tracks of those ahead and now and then created another puff of warm air for each of us—even small ones for Tater, of course. I’d have liked to include him with the warmth we enjoyed, but our rule was that I did no magic for any but the three of us. Besides, he now had Springer under the blanket he wore, and the dog would help keep him warm, probably an inaccurate observation. But one I clung to.

The sky darkened, and snow fell harder, the flakes small and hard. I noticed Tater had picked up the pace when I’d have thought he would tire and slow. He must have been worried about getting trapped in deep snow and having to spend the night sleeping in a drift. I glanced ahead to find him sitting taller and his head watching from one side to another, as if listening.

His wariness should have come from the storm about to cut loose on us, but instead, he looked to the sides of the trail. Why? My hand went to my knife. I wished we’d have taken the time to unpack the small crossbows last night. Even a bow would have made me feel safer.

It was not clear if the fear in the air was from the approaching storm or the uneasy actions of Tater. Riding ahead to speak with him would draw attention from the women and possible enemies. From his actions, I believed they were out there, perhaps a bear, or lion. However, I was not powerless.

I reached out to Tater with the magic of my mind and offered him a slight stimulation, a lifting of his tiredness. He would repay his body for the boost later, hopefully by sleeping well. Magic cannot be created. It is more of a shifting of natural events. Draw a little from here and apply it there. I pulled from his reserves. His body would demand its return.

The droop in Tater’s shoulders was gone. He sat tall and appeared attentive and wary. If an enemy intended to slip up on him, it wouldn’t work. I felt Alexis shudder under me, a sure sign the horse was about worn out. The snow she slogged through didn’t seem any less. A pat on her neck and a few words of encouragement seemed to calm her. No magic, other than that of a man and his horse.

An arrow buzzed through the air just as I sat up, missing me and flying off into the trees to my right. My shouted warning was more of a wordless cry as I leaped to my right, unfairly using my horse as cover. My shoulder hit the snow, and my body rolled, avoiding another arrow.

Whenever there is excitement, my mind slows and considers odd things. Now, it questioned the worth of weapons carried on packhorses a dozen steps away, along with stupidity of them being there instead of in my hand. A glance revealed Tater on one knee, an arrow drawn. He didn’t release it, so must not have seen an enemy clearly.

Behind me were both women, also in the snow, anxiously searching for who or what had attacked. I climbed to my feet and ran to the packhorse carrying the case with the small crossbows. A single slice of my knife and my hand held it as I changed directions. Ten steps took me to Kendra. The fastened straps barely slowed me down, as the case opened, freeing one crossbow. She took it, along with a fist full of bolts.

Moving to the side of Elizabeth, she silently accepted a weapon and cocked it. She loaded a bolt before I had mine ready to fire. Her other hand held more bolts. I grabbed more and loaded my weapon while searching for something to shoot.

But there had only been those two arrows flying at me, no more. We lay still and waited. Patience is often the winner in battles.

Elizabeth snarled, “Use your magic. Find where they are.”

If there had been a bird nearby, I’d have sent it innocently flying. When it flushed in reaction to someone on the ground, I’d know where they were. In this case, I was as blind as the other three.

But not helpless. My voice carried, “Tater. Two arrows. Both came from the direction of that twisted tree.”

My finger jabbed at it as if giving him an order, telling him to move from his position to his right, while I did the same, to the left. After crawling a dozen paces, I grew tired of making myself a slow-moving target for the archer to anticipate where I’d appear next. He could put an arrow in me at his leisure. I leaped to my feet and charged forward another ten steps, then dived head first into the knee-deep snow.

An arrow missed by a wide margin. He’d exposed himself and knelt as he fired, but hadn’t accounted for Elizabeth, who had also moved closer, reaching the cover of the trees and then paralleling me. Tater was moving to my right. When she saw him, she fired her crossbow. It was only accurate for eight or ten steps and lost all power shortly after. However, her rushed shot drew his attention to the unexpected source, and he turned his head to see where the unexpected bolt had come from, a natural enough reaction. It was also a deadly one, as Tater’s full-sized arrow struck the man in his chest with enough power it appeared he leaped backward.

We moved ahead cautiously, scanning for more attackers. There were none. After searching the area for footprints in the snow, we gathered around him.

He was perhaps thirty, dead, and wore chest-armor with his blood freezing onto it. Tater’s lucky shot from the side had managed to strike near the front lip of the chest-armor, below the shoulder, one of the few places where it didn’t protect him. The unobstructed arrow only encountered flesh and bone.

Tater knelt, prepared to slit the throat of the man if he still breathed. Then he reverently fingered the armor and looked up at me. “Wyvern skin. No arrow could penetrate that.”

“Good shot,” I said.

“Not good. Lucky. It was aiming at his head. You going to take the armor and sell it for a small fortune?”

I looked at him blankly, not understanding his meaning.

“It’s valuable,” he said, after spitting into the undisturbed white snow. “Dragon skin. Moves and gives easily, but no arrow will penetrate it. That thing is worth a year’s earnings.”

“You take it as a reward for helping us,” I said. “You didn’t sign up for a battle.”

“A guide is expected to fight for his people.”

Kendra, who hadn’t said anything as she had approached, kept a watch for other enemies. Her eyes moved all-around nervously she said, “Quit arguing, Tater. The armor is yours, and so is everything else he has. Strip him. If there’s anything we want, we’ll say so. Do it and let’s get out of here.”

Tater nodded. He reached for the man’s bow and quiver and handed it to me. “Carry that from now on.” He didn’t sound very pleased with me, and he was right to talk to me that way. I should have carried a bow from the first. He located a small purse with a few coins we refused, a knife, and a map.

Elizabeth took the map and examined it. She said, “Riverton to here.”

That was enough. Someone had sent this man to the mountain pass by following the map, probably with orders to keep any from crossing. Kendra said, “He must have a camp near here.”

Tater stood and made a slow turn. He pointed to where we’d come from, up along a ridge. “There.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, before realizing how stupid the question made me seem as he answered.

“From up there he can see the crest of the pass and all the way down to here. He probably has another path off the main trail, so he could get down here and conceal himself after he spotted us. I saw a few bushes move a while ago, but assumed it was the wind.”

“Want to go look?”

Tater said, “You go. Meet us back here on the trail. Take your bow in case there were two of them.”

While it might sound like I was brave to obey Tater and search alone, there wouldn’t be another man up there. If there had been two of them, both would have attacked, and if they had it done properly, they would have won the battle before it began with a few well-placed arrows. No, despite the expensive armor made of dragon skin, the man who attacked us was not a professional soldier, and he was alone.

When I backtracked along the path he’d made in the snow, I arrived at his camp right where Tater had indicated it would be. It confirmed my suspicions. His survival skills were minimal, his camp sloppy and poorly constructed, and worse, he was nearly out of food. I searched through it all, trying to find any clue to identify him or his employer. Instead, there were chicken bones so clean they were white and picked as clean of meat as the sticks set aside for a fire. The few other items were empty food pouches and thin blankets.

He had no horse, no other weapons, and what little discovered in his camp was either cheaply-made or worn out. That was odd, considering the chest armor. I made my way back to the others where Tater held the horses and waited for me. “Nothing worth taking.”

Tater held up the breastplate. “’Cept this. Ever see one of these before?”

I hadn’t.

“This isn’t regular dragon skin armor if there is such a thing. This is special. There are tribes down in the brown world that know how to tan dragon-hide like this. First, you got to find and kill a wyvern, so there are not many. Your best arrow would bounce off it, but it doesn’t weigh nothing. The price for this damned thing,” he hefted it into the air for me to see, “is more than all the money I’ve ever owned—and then some. So, my question to you is simple. What was that worthless piece of crap of a man on the ground doing with it? Everything else he has isn’t worth a copper snit.”

“Any idea of who he is or who sent him?” Kendra asked.

Elizabeth, in her way of adding detail to a conversation, said, “He’s been camping here a while. I think he stole it and was hiding. Maybe from his victim.”

Kendra said, “He might have been trying to assassinate you, Elizabeth.”

“Nope,” Tater declared. “He’d been here a number of days, maybe ten. None of us knew we were coming this way, so, how could he? Besides, few even know of this pass, and only idiots try to use it in winter or spring.”

That settled the conversation. I said, “We need to move or sleep in the snow tonight.”

Tater cast me a grin. “When we first met, you were all full of joking and laughing, hijinks they call it at the palace. Where’d that go?”

He was right. The few days of riding had taken away my boyish antics and converted me into a paranoid man afraid of the next bend in the trail. If that change made me better or not was up for discussion. I evaded Kendra’s questions and her stern glances and decided to blame Springer. “Why didn’t the damn dog warn us?”

“I had him on my lap covered up to stay warm. Blame me if you want to.”

“It was not his fault, either,” I admitted, allowing my eyes to slowly scan the area in case we’d missed something. In contrast, Elizabeth’s eyes darted from one place to another, like those of a blue jay looking for a treat to steal—or a cat sneaking up on it. There was the tilt of her head as she listened. When mounted on Alexis again, I slipped an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. The small crossbow was loaded and cocked, ready to shoot. It rested on a leather loop fastened to the horn of my saddle for quick access. If someone leaped from the side of the road, too close to use my bow, the little machine would give him second thoughts.

I mouthed to Elizabeth, “Anything?”

She shook her head, but as she rode past me to take her place behind Tater, her back was straight. I could see the stiffness and tension in her every move. Kendra fell in behind me, leading the string of packhorses again. Both were upset and worried.

Tater set a pace that was hard to maintain. He ordered us to hang back a hundred paces while he rode alone and checked for ambushes or signs of enemies—which would be any men not riding with us. He went bravely into danger first, and I intended to reward him for it. Another guide would travel with us or abandon us because of the danger.

All we had to do was remain alert and follow the trail his horse broke in the snow and of brown spittle he left, the color of the dried leaves he chewed. There seemed no explanation of why, but I liked the man, his bravery, and his insights. Of course, that didn’t include his constant spitting and my dodging the flying wads.

The sun was sinking fast, heading for the peaks in the west when the air cleared, the snow quit falling, and it turned from knee-deep to scattered patches of white, usually under the shade of evergreen trees. The ground became soggy with many puddles, and we continued riding. Nothing is worse than sleeping on, or better said, in the mud. Even sleeping on hard, bare rock is preferable.

Tater found no recent sign of travel on the ground. Every so often, he’d pause and examine something, and once he climbed down and knelt beside the path as he studied a possible clue. I, of course, examined any place he did and saw nothing unusual. Not a thing. That explained why we’d hired him instead of relying on my skills. However, my arrow was ready to fly and my eyes wary.

The high mountains near the snowline were eerily silent. There were no birds, chipmunks, or noisy insects in winter. The wind was still. The air cold. The sucking sounds of Alexis pulling one hoof after another from the muck were accompanied by the softer sounds of the same from the other horses that were farther away.

Neither of the women spoke, which was unnerving in itself. We were all cold, scared, and tired. Conversation was out of place, a distinct difference from the constant chatter between the three of us at the palace.

Tater pulled up and dismounted. Elizabeth paused too, which meant the horses behind did too. He didn’t act upset or frightened but moved with caution. He waved us ahead.

“Hard, dry ground. We’ll camp here before dark.” He turned and climbed on his horse and said, “Gather firewood.”

“And you?” Kendra asked, with more than a little huff in her tone.

“Sun’s almost down. I’m going to ride ahead and make sure we’re on this mountain alone.” He turned his head and spat as if that action ended another conversation.

After he disappeared around the next bend, Kendra said, “Rude.”

To my surprise, Elizabeth responded before me. She said softly, “Yes, and yet there is no man I’d rather be here with.”

She’d said it all.

We climbed down and gathered the low-hanging, dead branches off evergreens while Elizabeth staked out the horses where they could eat the meager green tufts of new grass poking its way into life. Kendra broke frozen sap from a tree and smashed it into a fine powder that ignited with the first sparks. When Tater returned, we already had blankets spread and a roaring fire to welcome him.

No sooner had he settled down to eat from his pouch of traveling food, than Kendra stiffened. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her features slackened. Her head tilted upward slightly, and I knew a dragon was about to fly past. I drew the attention of the others by standing and quickly asking, “When will we reach the main road again?”

“Late tomorrow,” Tater replied. “Easier travel from here on, all downhill. Two days, maybe the morning of the third to reach Mercia on the shore of the Dire Sea.”

Elizabeth watched him as he spoke. Behind him, where only I could see, flew another dragon. It continued on its way, and Kendra’s eyes focused again and found me.