The Last Dragon: Book One

CHAPTER THIRTY

Kendra’s prediction that we were going to kill people came out of nowhere, and it sat on my mind like the dragon crushing an outhouse. It was so unlike her. She was the kindest, most gentle person I knew. Those words coming from her created an impact like being struck with an ax. Once, she had berated me for killing a field-mouse that had made its way inside our apartment. For my penance, she ordered me to devise a trap that would catch any future mouse intruders without hurting them. I did it, and I suffered the guffaws and insults of other boys my age for months as I carried my tiny captives outside for release.

I went to the horses and returned with the bows and quivers. Enough daylight remained to inspect them. There are graveyards full of soldiers who did not care for their weapons or inspect them before a battle.

Both bows were in good condition, but the pull on the longbow was almost too much for me. I handed the smaller, hunting bow to Kendra and watched her examine it as well as any archer would. She pulled an arrow and sighted down the shaft and spun it to ensure it was straight. The tip was metal, and sharp. She selected another and repeated the process.

We sat on blankets, but the night was still warm, even without a fire. Only a gentle breeze caressed us. Our positions were such that I watched the north road over her shoulder while she watched the south. Once finished inspecting the weapons, we remained silent until I pulled a raw carrot and crunched it. She cast me a warning look, but I continued, and just to let her know who was in charge, I chewed with my mouth open.

“We should talk,” she said between the noise of me chewing.

I sat the carrot aside in favor of a thick slice of cheese.

She took half and waited as she watched the last of the light fade. “We’re not going to Mercia, you know.”

“There’s nothing left there,” I agreed.

“We bypassed a small city called Andover. I suspect many of those who fled in the last few days went there.”

“The rest?” I knew she was directing the conversation to where she wished.

“The port.”

“So, we are going there, too?”

“Andover first. Then the port,” she said as calmly as if ordering morning tea.

After waiting for her to continue, I prompted her because she seemed to be thinking about other things. “Why are we going to either?”

“We have to locate ten mages and anyone who worked with them—before they find and kill us.”

That sounded ominous. But it also brought up other questions. “How will we find them? If mages no longer have their powers, what danger are they?”

She rolled her eyes at me, in the old familiar way that said I was not paying attention. “They still have their powers, just not a source of the essence to draw upon and use them. The dragon can still be captured again, and without a doubt, they are devising plans to do that.”

“Then, keep the dragon away from them and foil their plans. We don’t have to go there to do that.”

“If only it were that easy. Listen, there are things you do not yet know or understand. The mages and their supporters are bad people. The king’s illness is a direct result of their activities, I believe. He wished to remove all mages from the kingdom. Elizabeth told me about it. Just as he was about to make that proclamation, he fell sick with the mysterious illness and remains so.”

“You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt. Then comes the crime of penning an animal in a cave for centuries. Can you imagine the anguish the dragon endured? How it woke each day wishing it would die? How its life was being drawn from it and used by mages and others?”

“Including me?”

She shrugged and asked, “If you had known what you were doing, would you have used magic?”

“You mean draining the life from that poor creature? Of course, not.”

“A person cannot be held responsible for things they do not know. Those who did know and continued to do so, and even helped imprison the dragon are responsible.” She was getting angry, and her clipped words told the story. “And now that they have experienced all that power, more than any king in history, they will not give it up.”

“They have lost the dragon, the essence they drew upon. If you look at it one way, it’s over. Killing the last dragon would end the possibility of them regaining control.”

Kendra leaned closer, but instead of agreeing with me and muttering a few nice words for my insights, she punched my shoulder. “Think!”

I had been. At least, thought so. There must be things missed by my simple calculations.

She said, “The dragon is a she.”

It seemed prudent to wait for more information before risking another punch.

Kendra threw her arms wide in frustration at my limited abilities to predict where her mind would go next. “She. Female. Eggs.”

“Escaped dragon,” I countered. “No eggs. No male.”

“Eggs were collected while she was held, prisoner.”

“Male sperm. None.” My wit and understanding of basic breeding facts exceeded hers.

“Wyverns. Related species.”

She had me there. “Really?”

“Maybe. We don’t know, but it is a possibility they can breed their own dragon—or half-dragon. They kept the dragon in a suspended existence and might have done the same with fertilized eggs.”

“That’s bad,” I agreed. “But it would take years and years to mature a hatched egg, and that gives us time.”

Kendra flashed a smile that told me she was going to destroy that argument somehow. “There is more you haven’t figured out, yet. I can still hear the wyverns. Remember them?”

“Of course.” We had just talked about cross-breeding them.

“Think! I hear them. Only two creatures, dragons, and wyverns are inside my mind. It seems logical that mages can draw essence from wyverns, too. Probably not as much. That’s why they didn’t allow them to go extinct. They are the backup plan.”

She was right. On all counts. A mature dragon probably provided a much larger pool of essence, perhaps a more powerful one, too. But a wyvern was so closely related, and they also touched Kendra’s mind. Perhaps three or four could equal the essence available from a single dragon. Or a hundred. It didn’t matter.

We might also be wrong on all counts. Wyvern essence might not be able to be used by mages, but the odds said otherwise. Like anything else, essence was neither good nor bad. The people using it decided that.

A mage might cure sickness, feed the poor, cure blight from crops or reduce famine. He might also use it to help a king rule and provide benefits to the population, water in a drought, protection from enemies, and relief from natural disasters.

But the opposite was also true. A mage or sorceress wishing unlimited wealth and power could use the same essence for personal gain. The mages in the palace had lived in as much splendor as any king. They wore the best clothing, all made by other’s hands. They ate the most expensive foods, imported and prepared for them. They wielded power above any king, with none of the onerous and mundane duties of ruling required of a king. Their only requirements were to attend balls, appear at royal gatherings, and provide occasional bolts of lightning to impress the crowds.

Sure, they also regulated the amount of rainfall, but those services might only be needed once a decade. Bands of roving marauders were a thing of the past in Dire, but if they became an issue, a mage would drop a tree on them or bury them in a landslide. Then, he had another decade of endless luxury to enjoy.

“Well, you sure quit talking,” Kendra laughed.

“You convinced me. No mage or sorceress will willingly give up what they have.”

“What about you?” she asked in a genuinely curious tone.

It was a good question. It was like a gambler who carried a spare block of sixes hidden up his sleeve. With that, he could win any pot. Knowing that gave him the confidence to never have to use his cheat. My small magic gave me that sort of mental edge. Not having to use it, and not using it, were advantages to me in all situations.

Would I miss that power? Of course. Could my existence continue as it had? Maybe, there would be adjustments, but the use of my magic had been seldom and slight. “It will change things. Given a choice, my wish would be to keep it.”

“We should sleep, now.”

Her abrupt words jarred me and assured there would be no sleep for me for a long time. The moon rose, mosquitoes swarmed, and bats swooped. I liked bats. Each mosquito they ate was one less to eat me. Farmers often placed bat-houses under their eves and near ponds kept for watering their stock. Mosquitoes had become a problem in the palace, some said because of the old moat which was fed by a diverted stream. A bat-house for right outside my window was nearly finished, a secret project in case it failed. If it worked, both Kendra and Elizabeth would get one.

To avoid the pests, I pulled the second blanket over my head, and all of me was safely underneath. Sleep came quickly.

Kendra woke me as she tried to move silently in the early morning foggy air. If she had moved naturally, my sleep might have continued. She had both horses ready, their saddles cinched tight, and our few belongings ready. The new longbow and quiver hung on a loop from my saddle. Her blankets were rolled and tied behind hers.

The road was unseen through the dense fog, common near the sea.

We mounted, without taking time to eat. The city of Andover couldn’t be far, and hot food would be there if we were lucky. As always, the fog seems to absorb all sounds, so the morning was unnaturally quiet.

The road was again empty of travelers. It made me uneasy so as we rode slowly, I unfastened my belt holding my sword and slid the quiver onto it, then adjusted it, so it rode next to, but behind my scabbard. I carried the bow in my left hand—it was that sort of still and silent morning. Sounds seemed to be absorbed, leaving a vacuum of quiet.

As Kendra had said last night, we were going to kill people. Maybe today. Of course, they might be thinking the same thing about us.

I said, “Can you hear the dragon or wyverns right now?”

We rode side by side, knee to knee. “Yes. The dragon is up ahead, but close enough to be here quickly if needed.” She paused. “I don’t know why I said that. But, it will come if called. The wyverns are off to our right, a long way. They are upset and scared.”

“There may be mages searching for us in Andover.”

“Wearing your quiver like that is a good idea so you can reach the arrows quickly, even if you dismount. It is also a warning to anyone looking our way.”

“Maybe you should, too.”

Instead of answering, she changed the subject, which was almost becoming normal for her. “Remember each time the Blue Lady came to us? How did she know where we were?”

“That’s something I’ve never considered.”

“She came to us three times. This might be a mistake in the way I’m thinking, but in my mind, are the dragon and wyverns, but there are more creatures, too. Unfamiliar things. Alive.”

“Can you sense me? I mean, tell when I’m close?”

“No. But ahead is probably Andover. There are three different things in my mind. Small. Distinct. Beyond, in what is probably the Port of Mercia, there are six more of them.”

“Describe them,” I said.

She rode in silence before speaking as if to a child. “Wyverns sound like bees buzzing, the dragon is a large drum, and within all of that are pinpoints of sound, like the chirp of birds. When concentrating, the direction of them is clear, the distance is unsure. Maybe after getting closer, the chirps will increase and give some sense of distance. Once we find one, I’ll know what they are.”

“Mages,” I decided, with no further information. Six and three made nine, and we’d been warned of up to ten mages waiting for us. One might have died or departed on a ship.

The fog began to lift. We’d left the trees behind and the branch of the road to Mercia, too. We followed the main road, and a smudge on the horizon was probably smoke instead of fog. Winters can be brutal in Dire, and each building would have one or more fireplaces, some three or four. All those emitting smoke as homes were warmed on a foggy, damp spring morning left a pall visible from a distance, well before individual buildings could be seen.

Kendra declared, after a long silence, “The three chirps are definitely getting stronger.”