The Last Dragon: Book Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he incident with the imaginary mosquito confused me so massively I tripped, and that drew another series of giggles from Anna. She didn’t turn to look or gloat, but in that single instant, I knew for a fact that she had used magic as retaliation on me. Small-magic. Not a lot. However, there was no doubt she had used it when not one in a thousand people could duplicate her feat. No, not one in ten thousand, I corrected myself. Those few who use magic are scarce, more so than two-headed snakes.

In the entire kingdom of Dire, only six magicians were known, four mages and two sorceresses. And of course, there was also me who was an unknown and didn’t count. Only three of us knew of my skills, and none of us had ever heard rumors of others like me. It would be unfair to mages to consider my meager skills on par with theirs, and my talents had recently bled to those of a sorceress. Yet, in our group of five on the mountain pass, there seemed to be four. Myself, Kendra since freeing the dragon, Anna with her mental mosquito, and of course little Emma who had banished the Blue Lady. The mathematical odds of calculating that were far beyond my abilities—but I knew the answer must be near infinity.

The oddest thing was that while magic ‘abilities’ or ‘powers’ varied between mages and sorceresses, all were essentially the same along the lines of sex. Those walking ahead of me were unknowns. I doubted if any of us had the power of true magicians, but until the last few days, I’d been the only example of a lesser one we’d ever heard of. Now, I walked with three others and couldn’t get that out of my mind.

We watched for food along the way since we had little. A fat, lazy grouse, a type of gamebird of a couple pounds stood at the edge of the path and watched. I slipped my little-used bow over my shoulder from my back as my right hand found an arrow.

The kill-shot was quick and anticlimactic. The arrow flew fast and sure—without my magical help, and the arrow skewered the bird. We made a fire and roasted it within a few steps of where it died. Two identical birds would have better satisfied our appetites, but no other showed itself. That wasn’t too odd that there were no others because the only places I’d seen them was in the lowlands, usually in meadows. Finding one high in the mountains was strange but not unheard of.

We’d hardly continued our trek when Kendra pulled to an abrupt stop and dropped to one knee. Her action alerted us to do the same, although I sensed no danger. Her arm raised, and her finger pointed off to the side of the trail to a heavy stand of small evergreen trees. Since there were no larger trees, I assumed the area had either burned in the recent past or been totally clear-cut by people. The trunks on the new growth were uniformly thick and tall. The young evergreens seemed to put up a solid, impenetrable wall.

Kendra hadn’t ever knelt like that before. She acted as a military leader in every respect. Her action scared me, so without thinking my hands reached for the bow and an arrow. While pulling them free, I also loosened my sword and then bent the bow to string it.

As I fitted the arrow, my eyes remained where Kendra pointed, not on my weapon. The evergreens began to grow as a thick wall about twenty steps from us, only thin brush between. The trees were small, their trunks the size of my arm, and barely twice as tall as a person. There seemed to be few if any other varieties but evergreens in the stand.

Roars from human throats broke the silence of the high mountains as two men broke free of the evergreens and charged us, long curved swords waving wildly above their heads. They were heavy-set men who ran like bulls through a pasture, ignoring whatever lay at their feet as they concentrated on scaring us with their ferocious shouting and blades flashing in the sunlight.

My arrow took the closest man high in the center of his chest, which would be brag-worthy if I hadn’t been aiming just above his navel and shot too high in my excitement. The long shaft all but disappeared into him, with only the bright colors of the fletching protruding. He stumbled a few more steps and fell face first.

The second man almost reached Flier, who had grabbed a short stick as big around as his thumb, and almost as useless against the curved sword. The attacker ignored the loss of his partner, never slowing and not even casting a glance at his fallen comrade. I fitted another arrow as fast as possible, but the man was almost on Flier, and their positions prevented me from taking another shot.

My attention shifted to Kendra. She was standing, her arm was cocked, her posture that of someone about to throw, and as her arm shot forward, she pushed off her rear foot to provide power. The spinning iron blade from the sheath on her forearm flew true. It hit the man dead center, a little lower than my arrow, but to defend myself and my pride, he was a lot closer to her.

I still had my second arrow ready to fly, but there was no need.

Flier’s expression was of wonder, not fear. He faced us ready to ask more questions. I said in the way of explanation, “We were trained by the King’s Weapons-Master.”

While true, it didn’t account for the new double-ended knife of Kendra’s, nor the new bow I carry, although he had taught me to shoot properly and would critique the height my arrow struck. He never settled for less than a perfect shot.

Flier said, “I thought he would kill me.”

Kendra said in a distracted tone, “Flier, take the best of their swords for yourself, and any other weapons they have. Give Anna one and Emma a knife if they carry them. Stay with the girls.” She again sounded military as she ordered him as if she was a commander in an army ready for another battle. She briefly turned to me, and her eyes flicked to the stand of evergreens where the men had emerged. “Come on.”

We took five or six steps before she pulled to another stop. She glanced my way long enough to mutter just loud enough to hear, “Gone.”

“Who?”

“A Mage. He winked into existence before I went to my knee, and now he is gone.” She pushed aside evergreen branches and moved ahead, into the small trees, letting the branches slap me when they swung back. I had two choices, hang back and let her blunder into danger, or stay up with her and ignore the cuts and scrapes.

We penetrated perhaps fifty steps and found ourselves in a small clearing. In the center, as if the evergreens didn’t like growing near it, stood an oval rock as large as a house. The surface was gray, smooth, the corners and top rounded. The carvings were clear, even at our distance.

I’d seen two others like it. Waystones. My feet carried me closer, where my hand touched the warm surface and traced the faint cartouches, icons, pictographs, or whatever was carved into the smooth surface. They were more worn than others I’d seen, probably as a result of the snow and freezing temperatures on the Vin Pass. The stone was still warmer than the air. Not hot, but warmer than the chilly air.

From right behind us, Flier said with a hushed voice, “As many times as I’ve traveled this pass, I’ve never seen that.”

“A Waystone,” I said. The girls were right behind Flier. For a moment I’d thought he left them unprotected on the road. I held a finger to my lips. They understood to remain quiet.

He approached and ran his fingers over the images. “There is another like this. Near Vin.”

Kendra pointed at the bare ground around it. “No trees, bushes, or grass.”

I answered, “None around the one at Crestfallen, either. A little grass, but not even a bush. I hadn’t thought much about it because the ground there is almost solid rock.”

Flier said, “Same with the one at home. But the pictures on the outside are clearer than this one. Things last longer in the desert. How did you know it was here?”

Before I could think of a suitable lie, Kendra said, “Those men had to come from somewhere. I expected to find their campsite and maybe more men.”

Flier not only believed her, but he also made a full turn searching for more, clutching the curved sword.

For his benefit, and because the mage may have traveled alone and there might be a campsite nearby, we made a search of the area and found nothing. I took us back to the path and the two dead men. “There might be something to explain their presence in their purse.”

Emma and Anna were sent ahead where we could still see them, but our actions were shielded from them. I intended to retrieve my gory arrow from the body. Good ones are as difficult to come by as good bows. Besides, there are short arrows, long ones, and those that were the size I needed. My bow couldn’t effectively use the others.

When I rolled the man over, I found that my arrow had broken off near the fletching when he fell on it. So, I examined the attacker with Flier and my sister. I said, “His skin is light, his features wide.”

“Not from the Brownlands,” Flier said with a certainty we all felt. “What were they doing at Kondor’s back door?”

There were scars on his face from old cuts. They were clear enough to see through his thick and tangled beard. His hands were callused. The clothing was heavy, coarse, utilitarian and faded. He wore a wide blue cloth belt tied tight around his middle, and a lump under the belt drew my attention. My fingers pulled a leather purse free. Inside were coins, including many silver and even two gold.

Two gold coins made a man wealthy. One would purchase a small farm including the house, barn, and animals. Two, a large farm and field hands. He also had a knife. I pulled it free from the belt and admired the workmanship. It was no knife used for casual farm work. It was a weapon, sharp, well cared for, and deadly.

He had no parchment, nothing on a thong around his neck to tell his country of origin, or anything else. We moved on to the other and found much the same, including the same two gold coins right down to the impressions of the same unknown man stamped on them. He also had several silver ones. Both men had been wealthy, but their clothing, scars, and callouses said otherwise. Therefore, the coins were new to them. The exact same amounts. It was recently paid to them, probably today, with their promise to attack and kill us.

Kendra said, “A mage brought them here and paid them the gold and silver.”

“Mage?” Flier asked, catching her slip instantly. “What mage?”

She faced him and said flatly. “Waystones and mages go together. You don’t find one without the other.”

He nodded and seemed to consider. “Twice I saw mages near the Waystone at Vin.”

That settled the matter. I shot my sister a warning look telling her to be more careful. She gave me a slight nod as she knelt and pulled her knife free. She used the sleeve of the dead man’s shirt to wipe it clean before replacing it into the holster under her sleeve.

“I have never seen a knife like that,” Flier said.

“A friend in Andover City made them for me,” she said.

“Them?” he asked.

She held up her other arm, allowed the sleeve to fall away and revealed the second knife. He was impressed but said nothing while giving her a slight nod of approval. She said to me, “We still need to tell Elizabeth he needs a commission from the crown.”

“Do you think she will sail past the storm?” I asked.

Kendra gave me one of those eyerolls that told me I’d asked a stupid question. Yes, Elizabeth would get past the storm, sail around it, or eventually follow us over the Vin Pass, or find another route. One way or another, the princess would arrive in Dagger, Will at her heels, and Avery would probably be there to greet her, dressed in his finest, leaning on the city gates to welcome her, perhaps with the King of Trager at his side.

However, the last Kendra had checked, the mages on the ships were still in place, so we assumed the storm still raged. Without saying so, my sister and I assumed the Blue Lady had all to do with the attack, and it may have been the very mage who had projected the blue image who knew of our location. And the one who brought the two attackers to kill us. When they failed, he fled via the Waystone. Neither of us believed in trusting coincidence too much.

Flier removed the sash from one attacker and tied it around his waist, then inserted the sword under it. His actions were clumsy and awkward, the knot at his waist fell open, and the sword hit the ground at his feet. Fortunately, he leaped aside before losing any toes.

I laughed with the rest, then picked up the weapon and examined it. While heavier than I preferred, it was a formidable sword, well-made in the manner of weapons forged for armies. That is to say, the workmanship was solid, lacking any decoration. It was a tool, no more than a shovel in the hands of a farmer.

A good shovel didn’t have to look pretty to dig a deep hole, and the sword in my hands would kill. My thumb explored the edge, finding it dull near the hilt and sharp for the remainder. The dullness was probably deliberate, so it didn’t cut through the sash worn to carry it. A few nicks and burrs were discovered by my thumbnail, the kind a few strokes of a sharpening stone would quickly remove. I said to him, “Do you know how to use a sword?”

“Not really. I was a messenger, not a regular soldier.”

“The blade is dull at the top near the pommel, so it doesn’t cut the sash when you walk. Don’t let that deceive you, this is a warrior’s weapon, sharp and heavy at the tip for speed and power.”

He listened intently. Kendra walked closer, the other sword in her hand. She raised it high above her head to demonstrate, bringing it down slowly at me in a chopping motion. Without thought, the one in my hand adjusted a quarter turn to effectively block her pretended blow. Meeting the other blade at a ninety-degree angle provided the best chance of stopping it.

Kendra recovered and attempted a side-slash, again moving slowly. My blade turned to meet it. “Defense. Block the attack. If you block them all, you live. It’s as simple as that.”

“But he will keep on attacking,” Flier said.

“Leave it for one of us to help you kill him. Your job is to stay alive. Nothing else,” Kendra said.

He clearly didn’t like her advice and turned to me, hoping for a contradiction that didn’t come. “She’s right. Remember this, you are probably fighting a professional, or at least someone with training. The moment you choose to attack, you lose your defensive position. In attacking, you leave yourself defenseless.”

Kendra said, “These blades are heavy and slow. An attacker has to swing and use much more energy, while all you have to do is meet his attempts with a turn of your wrist. He’ll quickly tire. But, my main point is that if you parry each blow, you can do it all day without injury.”

He didn’t appear to believe her. “Why doesn’t everyone do that?”

She turned to me and nodded at my sword at my side. I handed him back his, then drew mine with a flourish. The fine steel sparked in the sunlight, the long thin blade with the slight rearward curve felt at home in my hand, as it should after all the time it had spent there. It had occupied my almost daily practice for years, ever since the Weapons-Master proclaimed me proficient enough to put aside the oak practice-swords that had been my training for three years.

The sharp tip of my sword danced figure-eights in the mountain air, darting from side to side as it did, and melding into circles that grew larger with each revolution, the glinting metal moving so fast the eye could barely keep up with it. With a lunge of my right foot, the blade extended as if it had doubled in length, jabbing three times before swiping from left to right fast enough for the blade to sing as it passed through the air.

“Enough showing off,” she said. “He understands.”

Flier said, “I could never stop that.”

Kendra chuckled and nodded. “Told you he understood. If you ever face a blade-smith with half the skill of Damon, your options are to run or die. Don’t allow false pride to hold you back when your feet can save you.”

“Cowards run away,” he said stiffly.

Kendra half-closed her eyes in frustration. She spoke softly. “And brave men die. Listen well. If you encounter a poisonous snake that wants to bite you, will your choice be to remain and attempt to bite it first? No, that would be as likely to cause your death as attempting to cross swords with my brother. Run from the snake. Run from a swordsman.”

“I am not a coward.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nor are you going to be a live hero.” She spun in disgust and stalked away to rejoin the girls who were watching everything with wide eyes. She tied the other sash around her waist and placed the sword inside. She handed each girl a knife.

I still held my sword, so moved a few steps closer to Flier and raised it as if chopping wood. As it moved slowly down, he lifted his. However, it was held at an angle. “Stop,” I ordered. He did, and I allowed my blade to lightly touch his and slide off, where sharp edge came to rest on his shoulder.

I raised my blade and made as if to attack him again. This time, he met it squarely. I pulled back and attacked from the side, and again, he met it firmly, holding his with both hands. We varied attacks and defenses until he adjusted to each, and although we moved slowly, he understood what was required to block chops, swings, and slashes. Due to limited time, jabs and thrusts were ignored.

An arrow from the quiver on my back replaced the broken one in my scabbard, so I still carried four. We turned to continue up the path. Grass and plants grew where feet had once walked to clear a path wide enough for two to walk abreast, and I’d wager that small wagons or carts had used it in the past. From what was under our feet, nobody may have traveled the path for a year or more.

Anna walked directly in front of me this time, and I pushed aside her hair with a puff of breeze. The dragon was close, and I briefly wondered why it hadn’t come to protect Kendra, then realized the entire conflict had only lasted the time it took to draw two or three breaths. The dragon didn’t have time to even unfurl her wings.

However, Anna was another puzzle that needed to be put together. The sun wouldn’t go down for a while, and that gave me plenty of time to experiment. My mind reached out to hers, to the warm, safe place I’d briefly touched before. While concentrating on things around us, the right words were repeated. Evergreen trees. Blue sky. Cloud. Mountain. And a dozen others. Then I repeated each of them.

“Look at that cloud,” I said so softly only Anna could hear.

Her head instantly tilted upward.

That was all I needed to know for now. Perhaps Kendra could help me formulate a list of helpful words, or a method to better teach Anna our language. It would be a topic of conversation at the campfire tonight I hoped to enjoy because of the chill in the air. By morning, it would be cold, near freezing if my guess was right.

Little Emma trudged along in front of Kendra. She also needed to learn our language, and while we were walking without danger present, I decided to catch her up with Anna. She could learn the same words, and perhaps provide a hint of how to improve my teaching methods.

I reached out with my mind as before. A tendril of inquiry, like fingers of fog, advanced and sought out her mind. Not wishing to scare her, I slowed my mental advance and gently moved the tendril slowly, probing and inquiring. Finally, I used the first word I taught Anna.

Fletching. In my mind, I sounded it slowly, concentrating on each part of the word, and as I pictured an arrow, especially the end. Fletching.

A blast of red heat struck my mind, filling it with rage and turning darker and darker until it turned black and my eyes couldn’t see, my mind didn’t think, and my legs went as limp as if they were transformed into mush. It was as if a giant had used the trunk of a tree to swing at my head—and it struck solidly.