The Last Dragon: Book Three

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Princess Elizabeth

Damon and Anna’s revelation about the little girl they called Emma took all of us by surprise. For myself, I hadn’t interfaced with them on the ship. I’d seen them when I left my cabin but had only spoken to Kendra one time in private.

I didn’t know if I could believe their accusations. The story was so strange and wild. Even as I tried to sort things in my mind, the child at my side cried out for my help. She looked so much like Kendra had when I’d first found them in the streets outside Crestfallen ten years ago, a thin waif of a child with the features of Kondor instead of Dire. The memory was fresh in my mind.

However, as Damon spoke, the cries and moaning of the child suddenly ceased. The girl sat up and looked at Damon in an evil way that sent shivers of fear through me.

She pointed a wavering finger at him. Her voice, when it came was that of a young man, not a small girl. “You will die. You will all die.”

The image of Emma stretched and elongated until her arms became snakes. Fangs dripping poison grew where her fingers should be, her legs became those of a furred animal, and the torso massive and the head was swollen. What had been Emma stood above us a full head taller. Her eyes flared, and tiny flames licked within them.

“What do you want?” Anna shouted, advancing on the apparition without fear.

Emma ignored her and turned to Kendra. “Turn your dragon away. It cannot harm me, and I know it is almost here.”

My sister didn’t respond—but she didn’t agree either.

The creature in front of us was an abomination, a mixture of what we’d known as Emma and a dozen other creatures; all rolled into one frightening mass of glowing energy that towered over us. It emitted a sour smell that stung our nostrils and generated heat like a small sun. Claws emerged from the heads of the snake arms.

Anna stepped between Emma and us. “It’s not real. She’s making us think we smell and feel the heat, but even the claws are not real. Emma is inside our heads but can’t touch our bodies.”

As if to prove her point, she reached out as if to slap the image and her hand passed right through as if it was smoke. The image remained in the same threatening pose, but Anna was not finished. She leaped ahead, into the body of the thing. They merged as Anna waved her arms and shouted, “It is not real. Don’t believe it.”

A disturbance to my left drew fleeting attention. The Slave-Master followed by three huge guards raced into the tent and pulled to a halt at the sight. All carried weapons useless to fight an image made of light and our imaginations. All had abject expressions of fear on their faces but were not going to hesitate to attack.

When Anna stepped out of the creature and into the light, they froze as still as spring flowers during the last hard frost of winter. Damon held up a restraining hand, and they remained at a distance, and from what I saw, were grateful for the order.

The thing in front of us growled, then the edges singed and began to burn, curling like burning pages of paper. Flames leaped so high they looked ready to burn the roof of the tent, but there was no heat. They were images made to scare us—and they did. As a group, we all drew back from them and listened to the cruel laughter that erupted before the entire apparition dissolved and disappeared in a flash of orange light.

We stood in fear and shock until the Slave-Master strode our way. His eyes were wide, his gait wobbly. He paused a few steps to one side of us and said, “Princess Elizabeth, I’d appreciate it if you left your uninvited guests at home in the future.”

I giggled at the absurdity of his accusation.

The others made half-hearted attempts to laugh, and all failed. The stink of fear filled the room. The Slave-Master turned and shouted at his servants, “Where is the feast I ordered?”

Feet pounded as they ran to fulfill his order. More servants entered, each carrying a tray of food. We sat when he ordered us to, and plates were handed to each. Not a word was said. It was the eeriest beginning of a meal I’d ever attended—and I was far too upset to eat.

Kendra finally asked the rest of us, “Emma was not real?”

“No,” Anna said firmly. “I couldn’t remember her before the storm where you rescued us. Me. She was unreal from the beginning.”

Kendra turned to Damon. “You knew?”

“Only recently.”

“You didn’t tell us?”

“I wanted to do it privately, and to watch for her to betray herself, or it. Try to see what she wanted of us.”

I understood Damon’s intentions, but to my knowledge, Kendra had never been so angry with him. To smooth over things so we could all speak, I said, “Eat. We’ll all have our chance to talk.”

The Slave-Master had accepted a plate and settled himself at my side as if invited. My first instinct was to send him away. But my better sense overruled that thought. It was his tent and food, and we were accepting his hospitality. “Please join us.”

He nodded.

The food was simple; all served to be eaten with bare hands in the way of Kondor. A cloth was provided for each of us to wipe clean our hands, but the crisp slices of bird were long and slim, intended to be held between thumb and fingers, the heart of palm the same. Fruits were peeled and waiting. At least three varieties of figs awaited. Wine and water were served by beautiful young women.

It occurred to me that this slaver led a life of more luxury than any royal I’d ever met. His every wish was a command, and servants leaped to obey or lost their heads—a powerful incentive to please their master.

It also occurred to me that he had chosen to join us for more than social reasons. Before storming from his tent earlier, he’d made the cryptic statement to me that “Kondor is not my enemy” and that phrase, and the intensity of his voice, refused to leave my mind. If Kondor is not the enemy of Dire, who is?

My thoughts shifted to the image of the girl, Emma.

How could a mage fool us for so long with such an image? Every detail had to be perfect, not only to me but to Kendra and Damon who lived with her all day and night, on the voyage and after. How much power, precision, and concentration were required to accomplish that? It was unheard of.

I had lived with Damon as my personal servant for ten years, sharing his accomplishments in the use of magic. His abilities to direct an arrow in flight to hit the center of a target every time had taken months to perfect. Months! For learning such a simple feat of magic. Damon’s powers have always been minuscule.

But what must the abilities be to generate an entire image of a girl for weeks, an image so perfect that even those closest to her never had any idea she was not real? The gap in abilities was beyond my understanding.

The Slave-Master grunted, “This is the dullest dinner party I’ve ever attended.”

Again, nobody laughed, but his comment lightened the mood. The man who was known as Flier, and I had never had a conversation. He was accepted by the others as family, so I accepted him as the same. I watched them all carefully, not because I distrusted any of them, but because I loved and missed their company. I also feared for them, and for myself.

He said, “I don’t know what happened here today, but for the rest of my life I’ll remember it.”

We all agreed. My eyes kept returning to where the image of little Emma had morphed into the terrible creature that held us spellbound. I wouldn’t go near the spot.

My gaze fell to Anna. I said, “Our story begins with you, I believe.”

She accepted the invitation to speak. Her story unfolded in a few words, beginning with having no memories of her sister before Kendra and Damon took them in. The absence had only puzzled her at first, but later she doubted and finally believed before confiding in Damon.

Kendra and Flier had little to add, so everyone turned to Damon instead of me. He confirmed her story while adding his insights and plans to draw information from Emma. He added little we didn’t already know, except for the account of the game of blocks he’d played with the Slave-Master, but I saw Kendra was still upset with him for not sharing the information.

Then it was my turn. I told them in concise terms and without embellishment of my kidnapping and even my near escape beside the lake. Even the Slave-Master seemed impressed that I had managed to free my hands and had memorized the location of a rock in the dark within reach that would have killed the bounty hunter. He was surprised that I planned to do so and would have done it with little regret.

We believed everyone had spoken, but the Slave-Master cleared his throat. He stood as if addressing us formally. “Before meeting you people, I captured people and sold them as slaves, expecting someone to eventually kill me and assume my position as I did to the previous Slave-Master. I make no apologies.”

He paused, and we all waited. He was still on his feet and had more to say.

“I believe all of you are trying to improve the lot of people, no matter where they live—and I see that you are making mistakes. It is true that the mages fled from Dire with the release of the last dragon. They went to Kondor, to Dagger. Nearly all of them. They are there now. You are following them, gathering information and willing to sign a peace treaty for your kingdom, but are wrong.”

“You do not believe in peace?” I asked with more sharpness than necessary.

“No, Princess, it’s not that. Only those with magic, both male and female are in Dagger. They live in a former palace, planning the future of all. The air above the city is filled with Wyvern bleeding their magic to those mages below. Everyone in Dagger knows what is happening and that it will draw enemies to the city to be easily slain. But it is a feint, a misdirection intended for you.”

“How so?” I asked in a calmer tone, suddenly very interested in what he had to say.

The Slave-Master crossed his massive arms over his chest and gazed down at me. “I am allowed to hunt slaves in Kondor and sell them in Kaon. Encouraged to do so. Isn’t that strange? Ask yourselves, how is that possible? Why does Kondor allow it?” he paused briefly. “It is because slaves are needed in Kaon to serve the hidden leader who resides there. It is because Kaon rules Kondor—and those who possess magic, mages and sorceresses.”

He quit speaking as quickly as he’d begun. The impact of his words struck all of us. If what he said was true, I would waste my time in Dagger. No, worse, I would be doing exactly what was placed there to confuse me. “Kondor is a front? An imposter?”

“And a trap. The rulers of Vin and Trager journeyed there before falling. What returned to each of those kingdoms may not have been the kings, but images similar to Emma. Dagger draws in the kings and there they die—as yours will when he voyages there to sign the treaty you are so insistent on presenting.”

“The bounty hunter was taking me there to sign a sham treaty?”

He nodded. “One requiring your king to briefly travel to Dagger. What returned by ship would be a double much like Emma, one destined to become ill and turn over power to mages and their appointees from Dagger. It is easier to do than making a king ill and hoping to form a council to rule for him.”

I said, “My father was ill. It was really him.”

“Yes. That is the first step, and easier than replacing him in some ways, especially if there is a confused line of succession. It almost worked in Dire, but in the cases of Vin and Trager, the real kings died in Dagger and images of imposters took their places.”

Damon said, “That all sounds too complicated. I tend to believe you, but one question remains. Why? I mean, why do all that when there are easier ways?”

The Slave-Master allowed himself a slight grin. “When we played blocks, you often deceived me into using my power to attack from one direction, and then when I was weak there, you attacked from another. You intentionally presented a weak front while hiding your strength.”

Damon nodded.

“This is the same sort of thing. Dagger is there for you to attack and defeat, but it will weaken Dire, and then the real power in Kaon will emerge to win the game.”