The Last Dragon: Book Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

K endra had lost all her softness and innocence in a single night. Perhaps it had taken a few days longer, and I hadn’t noticed, but certainly, since she had released the dragon. She still looked like my sister on the outside—but sitting beside me in the dark of the night while she concentrated her mind on the female dragon crushing the buildings of Trager, I realized she had transformed. Not that she was taller, heavier, or anything like that. It was her eyes, her bold confidence, and the jut of her chin. There was no remorse in ordering the dragon to destroy buildings. No regret.

There was no joy or pride, either. Thankfully. The act of knocking down buildings and thus setting fires was required because Avery, a member of the Court of Dire had ordered it, and we were loyal to the crown.

Flier said, “Four individual fires are burning down there, now. At the four corners of the city. If they merge, the entire city will be destroyed.”

The dragon lifted into the air and flew into the night. In the reflections from the flames, it quickly disappeared from our sight.

Another patrol of palace guards hurried past us down the hillside. We saw them in the reflected firelight of the city. They had not been close to us, however, in other ways, they had been too close.

Flier said, “I think we should move on, now. Keep your ears open and drop to your knees if you hear anyone.”

Kendra stood and gave me the merest of nods. Anna and Emma were watching the fires as if they had never seen them before, but both were old enough to know it was buildings burning as the fire spread.

Avery’s warnings to the city had also told the people that safety lay up the side of the hill, in upper Trager where he hoped they would mass and he would manage to reach his old friend. I wished him well but questioned his methods. However, we had problems of our own. We shouldered our packs and followed Flier away from the city. The farther we got away from the bay, the less vegetation we encountered, the harder the ground. We followed small paths and trails, always paralleling the bayside to some extent, but also heading west.

According to the map in the salon on the Gallant, a great river lay ahead of us, and once we reached it, we would turn left, or south again, following the river and climbing the mountain pass. Eventually, it would take us to Kondor, near the small city of Vin. That was the plan.

On the map, it had looked easy. The river couldn’t have been a thumb’s width from Trager on the map. We moved carefully in the dark, loose rocks the size of fists threatened to trip us, and we encountered another group of guards higher up on the slope as they rushed for the city under the red glow in the sky.

I leaned close and asked Kendra, “Where did it go?”

She knew that I wanted to know where the dragon had gone without asking for clarification. “Up ahead, on the lower reaches of the pass.”

“Waiting for us?”

“Watching over us is more correct.” Her voice was soft, distracted.

She didn’t want to speak to me—beyond the obvious reasons of being overheard by more guards, Flier, and our desperate situation. I expected to arrive at the river with our next step, and the next, but it eluded me. We walked and walked until a hint of gray foretold of dawn.

Flier said, “Just a little more. There is a place to rest up ahead. Hurry.”

The sky had turned rose-colored before Flier paused and pointed to a crack where a huge slab of rock had split, leaving a space wide enough to slip through if we turned sideways as he did. Our backpacks were removed, like his, and dragged behind.

The split in the rock appeared to come to an abrupt halt just ahead of Flier, but as he reached the end, he disappeared to his right. Moving closer, I saw the split made an abrupt turn. After a few more steps, it opened to a small, almost circular flat area filled with sand so deep it was hard to walk in. I turned a complete circle. Walls of rock stood three times my height all around, some higher than that in a hollow larger in diameter than most houses.

A small fire pit blackened the overhanging rock in one place. The purpose for the location was clear. The overhang created a shallow cave where the walls would absorb and throw back heat, while the slanted roof would disperse any smoke. A pile of wood large enough to last a week lay in a pile to one side.

Green slime on one of the walls indicated water from higher up on the hillside trickling down. The fact it was green indicated it was good water. The lack of plant life was a clear warning that water contained poison or was otherwise unfit to drink. On the walls were carved names, dates, and most anything else young men left for others in the future to find. Not all were suitable for young girls, but there was no way to conceal them—the messages, not the girls.

“Like it?” Flier finally asked as he smiled in a knowing way. “Messengers crossing the pass have used this place for hundreds of years. We’re safe here. You’re the first non-messengers to come here in years. We all swear to keep it secret.”

We fell to the soft sand, sitting in a rough circle. Kendra opened her backpack and removed two thin blankets folded into neat squares. Neither was new, but both were clean. She also pulled a small bag with a few old wrinkled apples, a dull knife wrapped in a dirty rag, a rolled hat with a wide brim to protect from the sun, and three small jars of salves. Each bottle had an easy to understand symbol. The sun, a drop of red (blood), and the last ripples (water). The first to treat sunburn, the second to heal cuts, and the last to purify water.

She spread the first blanket and pulled the second over her. Emma and Anna copied her with two more blankets in the backpack. Waves of tiredness washed over me, but my emotions were so keyed up sleep came far down my list. I sat on a blanket and closed my eyes while thinking.

Flier sat beside me. He said, “A lot on your mind?”

“Yes.”

He was quiet for a long while, then said, “I would have thought you’d be aware of what happened—or the possibility of it.”

He didn’t explain which “it” he referred to. In my mind there were five or six major concerns, none of which I cared to share or talk about. To deflect, I said, “There are other things to worry about, including the city burning.”

“You didn’t know that was going to happen?” He sounded skeptical.

“How could I?”

“Well, I guess I see what you mean,” he said, somewhat mollified. “Let’s get some sleep and then we can talk.”

I spread my blanket while avoiding eye contact with him. Later, the sounds of the three girls sleeping made a calming chorus of deep breathing and soft snores. A glance at Flier revealed him sitting in the same position—watching me from the corner of his eye.

It seemed I’d barely closed my eyes again when Flier shook my shoulder. “Time to move on.”

We all stirred. From the position of the sun, we’d slept most of the day, and could have remained asleep for more since we’d gone all night without sleep. What we would have done after dark was a different story. The girls were cranky as we placed our few things in our backpacks.

Flier said, “Sorry, I couldn’t even buy food in Trager with the money you gave me. There isn’t any to buy. You can have your money back.”

“Maybe we can find some along the way?”

Flier held up a ball of thin string with a grin, “That’s our next task.”

We eased carefully out of the crack in the rock, pausing to check for soldiers before bursting into the open. I had my bow in hand instead of on my back, an arrow resting on the string. If a food animal showed itself, I wanted to be ready. If an enemy attacked, the same. We walked until the setting sun touched the far-off peaks.

Instead of following the overgrown trail up the side of the mountain as we had been, Flier veered off and followed another, even less used and more overgrown. It slanted downward. Before long the sound of rushing water came to us. Not long after, we crossed a small hill, and the river was in sight below. It was smaller than expected, but still a river. It flowed slower at that place where a pool formed.

Flier guided us to a small stand of willows, but old and tall. Beneath them we found another prepared campsite, complete with dry firewood stacked neatly beside a fire pit. Flier pulled the roll of twisted line from his pack, along with three barbed hooks and a folded package of yarn, feathers, and beads.

“Look for bait. Worms, bugs, anything alive,” he ordered as he sat and began unrolling lengths of string. “If we can’t find any, we’ll use artificial. Cut three small branches for poles. Green wood, so they flex.”

None of the three girls seemed to be searching too hard for live bait, so I assumed we would use the artificial bait he carried. However, a nearby branch had a white nest of caterpillars. I pointed to it, and he grinned.

After he tied on the hook and a length of string to the first branch I cut, and a caterpillar on the hook, I tossed it into the slow current. The caterpillar floated with the current, then disappeared in a splash of white water. I lifted a fat trout into the air and slung it to dry ground, where it flipped and flopped until Kendra struck it with a stick.

She said, “I’d better get a fire going.”

Anna came to my side. “Can I try?”

It took her three tries before she landed a fish, and Emma wanted a turn. Flier tossed aside his string and hooks. With a laugh, he said, “I guess we just need one pole.”

We hadn’t eaten in a full day. Nobody tried the shriveled apples. When we had a fish for each of us, we started on the second ones. Two fish would fill us up. Emma squealed softy with each one she caught, while Anna cut green willow branches to use as skewers to cook the fish. She used a knife almost expertly to gut each but left the heads on to support the fish while on the skewers. More than once, as the meat softened, the body of the fish fell away from the stick, but the head and mouth held it from falling into the coals.

We ate with our fingers, blowing on the hot fish flesh to cool it enough to place in our mouths. We drank our fill from the river, trusting it wouldn’t make us sick. Fast water is usually safe, but not always. Standing water will make you sick every time. We should have dug a hole in the bank next to the river and allowed the water to filter through to it. We could have also used the medicine from the backpack if we had a pot to put it in.

When the sun finally set, I kicked dirt over the fire until the coals were covered. It would have been nice to sit around, but a fire at night can be seen from as far away as the next mountain. Since we had slept so late, we sat around what had been our fire and looked from one to another.

Emma made funny faces. Anna scolded her, so when Anna wasn’t looking in my direction, I made a face at Emma. When Anna turned away from Emma, she returned the funny face. Flier laughed and drew a nasty look from Anna, then Kendra made a face. Yes, it all sounds silly but when thinking back on those early days, that night beside the dead campfire always returns as a favorite memory.

We woke early, which was no surprise. Just after dawn, we began walking up the mountain pass, or as I recall the trek, the side of a mountain. Before midmorning, my calves cramped and my thighs burned. We paused for many breaks, but always continued after short rests.

“How long to get over the pass?” I asked Flier.

“Two days. Tonight will be cold. The air will be hard to breathe.”

I panted my retort, “Thanks for the warning.”

Without pause, he shot back at me, “I didn’t want you thinking you were getting sick. Crossing here is no joke.”

The river was again somewhere off far to our right, and it flowed down the center of a canyon with walls too steep to climb even if we wished to spend another day returning to our path after catching more fish. All five of us panted for enough breath but kept on. The ground underfoot grew harder, packed dirt and rock covered with sand and gravel that started making our feet slip.

Flier said we would stop early for the night, long before dark. We needed the rest, and there would be no Trager patrols that high up.

Another thing I remember about that part of the trip was that every time I looked at Flier, he wore a grin. He was going home. I watched for a limp or signs of him slowing, but it seemed that removing the arrowhead had healed him in more ways than just taking away the pain.

When expecting a halt to come soon in the late afternoon, I raised my eyes to above his back. Up the trail ahead of him, a faint blue shimmer appeared in the clear mountain air. It grew more intense, the brightness of the image stopping all of us as much as if it was the flash of a falling star striking the ground. It was the Blue Woman. She floated a few measures above the ground as she had before, but this time the intensity of the blue light was darker, stronger.

She looked down at us, stared at each of us in turn, not speaking. Then she threw her head back as if laughing uproariously, mockingly, but no sound came forth.

Little Emma had been walking in single file right behind Flier. At the appearance of her, Emma had darted behind Flier’s leg and peered out from behind. None of us said a word.

In a move too quick to prevent, Emma stepped out and around Flier, moving several steps closer to the laughing woman, where she pulled to a stop on the path, placed her hands on her hips, and shouted, “No.”

The Blue Woman’s laughing antics ceased as she lowered her head as if noticing Emma for the first time.

Emma raised her fists to her chest, held them clutched there for a moment, and threw them wide, palms open, as she did. She said again, softer but with more force, “No.”

The Blue Woman disappeared as if she had never existed.