The Last Dragon: Book Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he dragon, unlike the other times we’d been close, not only smelled terrible, but she acted as nervous, as I felt. She spun and peered into the darkness near the summit, and I wondered how well adapted her eyesight was for night vision. Could she see things I couldn’t? Dragons do not normally fly at night, I’d heard from Kendra. It repositioned itself, her body half-turned away from us, where her head and eyes were never far from the path we were going to follow in the morning. She looked and acted like an old yellow dog protecting her master.

Flier and Anna had already gone over the summit and searched for campfires or signs of danger and found none. Emma slipped free of me, and I expected her to race to join her sister down the slope near the edge of the trees for protection, but instead, she moved a few steps closer to the dragon. She didn’t do anything aggressive, and neither did the dragon. A sense of mutual understanding emanated from both of them. At a distance of perhaps five steps, they eyed each other in the same way opponents in the King’s Army do before engaging in a wrestling match. Not a lethal engagement, but one deciding superiority.

“Easy,” Kendra cooed, although it wasn’t clear which one she spoke to. “Just take it easy and make sure nobody gets hurt.”

As if to confirm her words, the dragon gave a small snort and pulled away from Emma slightly as if it too smelled something it disliked. From my perspective, the dragon appeared more ill at ease than the little girl.

What that exchange seemed to tell me was that the dragon sensed a power in Emma and if it didn’t fear it, the dragon did respect it. The concept was almost silly, even to me. A dragon the size of a small barn acted wary of a tiny girl about six or seven years old. She held no weapons, made no aggressive moves, and displayed nothing of danger, which told me she “communicated” in another fashion.

Emma then backed off a step, as if defusing the situation only after the dragon had relented. When considered like that, she had established her superiority—or perhaps I had misinterpreted the entire encounter, a possibility when considering my lack of knowledge.

Kendra placed a consoling arm over Emma’s shoulder and urged the girl to sit near the remains of the fire. The dragon remained seated in the same place, still watching the summit of the pass, but she did not act scared or upset. Perhaps it was her age. An alarming thought was that it was because of false confidence.

“Your dragon stinks,” I said loud enough for Kendra to hear and hopefully not the dragon. My silliness drew smiles from the two at the fire, but there was a deeper concern. Emma had knocked me out with her mind-tricks. Her older sister often deferred to her, unusual for siblings. Kendra was touching minds with the dragon, and my small-magic seemed to have increased to mid-magic, or more. It was definitely stronger than at any time in my past.

I’d touched Anna’s mind and implanted a few words of our language, and as hoped, she’d used them as if they were her own. My half-baked plan had been to teach her more, while also teaching Emma. The point standing out in the open and doing all of that introspection with a dragon close enough to throw a rock at, was that the four of us were using some sort of mental communication. Five, if you counted the dragon. Worse, none of us understood what was happening.

Rumors of mages communicating over long distances had been confirmed by Avery just before we sailed. He said the mage known as Twin at Crestfallen was proficient at it.

The ideas and the impacts of them bounced around in my mind so fast I couldn’t track any or remain on one subject longer than a few moments. Before one thought could be completed, another tore away my logical mind and went in a different direction. If the five of us could use our minds to communicate, could we all learn to “speak” with each other? As it was, Kendra could speak with the dragon but none of us. I could speak with the girls but not Kendra. Emma seemed to also speak to the Dragon, so she completed our circle.

Circle? What the hell does that mean?

“Are you all right?” Emma asked.

My attention flicked in her direction, then to Anna. In my mind, I said to her, *Anna, come join us at the fire.*

She immediately walked closer, her fearful eyes on the dragon, but that only made her smart. Do what I say but watch out for yourself seemed to be her motto. But I hadn’t “said” anything. I’d made a suggestion in my head. I turned my attention to Flier, wherever he might be hiding. I projected the same exact thought to him. If he heard me, he didn’t respond.

“Is that thing going to stay here all night?” Anna asked with a voice tinged with fear.

Kendra said, “I don’t know why the dragon is acting like that. Is she scared? I just don’t know.”

Anna said, “What would she be scared about? If that dragon is scared, shouldn’t we be the same?” She arrived at my side looking for confirmation in her summation.

*Call for Flier to join us.* I told Anna, fighting to keep my lips from moving as I concentrated on the intent, not the words.

She immediately placed her hands to her mouth and called, “Flier, come join us.”

That satisfied me that my abilities allowed my skills to put my ideas into her head, even if she couldn’t respond—or perhaps she could. There were instantly more questions. How far away could I do it? What if she refused to call Flier or do what I said? Could I force her?

Kendra could also tell where mages were located, even at great distances. Did all this mean that while mages demonstrated their powers at celebrations with flashes of lightning, did they have other powers or skills they kept hidden? It seemed logical and probably true. It also seemed to answer a few odd questions that had arisen in the past.

That was the problem, the core of it. We didn’t know much about anything when it came to magic and dragons. There were no mages or sorceresses to ask. No books to read. No teachers. Anyone displaying their magical abilities was removed from their families at young ages and raised in secret locations where they were taught by unknowns—and nothing was known of what they learned there. Fully grown adults “appeared” after training and were welcomed by others with their powers.

I gave that some consideration because my first thoughts of actually questioning those with magic was to realize that all the rest of the people should have been jealous. We should have wanted to know how the mages and sorceresses are so superior and we should have questioned everything about them. I would want my child to have the best, to be the best. Yet, there were those who were so far advanced my family could never become part of them.

Instead, we sat back and accepted their benevolence, their rain for our crops, their “help” in battle (while the other side often also had a mage helping them). The sorceresses foretold possible futures, usually favorable in matters of love or wealth. They seldom revealed how they could manipulate feelings or choices a person made.

However, all those thoughts could be put aside for now. I’d allowed my mind to slip away from the single important item it needed to dwell upon during the night. We had a dragon, the last one in the known world, sitting at the edge of our campsite, its eyes focused on some unknown thing on the top of the mountain pass, and it acted as if danger would come from there.

No matter what it looked at, I saw no way it was going to be a good morning. I considered turning tail and running back to Trager. Things just don’t work out that way. While it was the first dragon I’d ever been around, interpreting its actions should be avoided because of lack of information, I couldn’t help myself. When it had landed on the road and first sniffed us after Kendra had freed it, and on the mountaintop above Mercia, it had moved with grace and power. Now it reminded me of a small bird in a nest as it watches hidden dangers as cats prowl the ground.

The dragon’s actions were quick, its eyes darting to the smallest movement, the muscles in its legs tight and rippling. I turned to Kendra. “What do you think?”

“Her claws are extended. She’s angry, or fearful, I can’t tell which.”

“About what?” I asked. “Can you tell anything?”

She considered the question before speaking. “There are no mages nearby, in fact, none I can sense. No sorceresses either. Just the ones far away. She is not scared of wyverns but does not like them. I think she hates them.”

Flier said, “Anybody mind if I sharpen my blade?”

That was the smartest thing I’d heard said all night. The other blade we’d taken from the ambushers also needed attention. A common stone near my foot would do, so I reached for it. The stone was fine-grained but would never touch my sword, not that it needed sharpening. Kendra sat beside me, while the girls huddled near the red coals of the fire.

Glowing coals? With an unknown danger possibly coming? None of us would have any night vision, and anybody or anything attacking would know precisely where we were. In my anger and excitement, I shot out a mental command so powerful that Anna winced, then shot to her feet and kicked dirt over the remaining coals.

*Sorry* I said in her mind and earned a small smile.

“What just happened?” Kendra asked.

Flier’s tilt of his head indicated he wanted to know, too. “With even coals remaining, we lose night vision, and the light from it will still lead whatever is coming right to us. I sent a mental ‘panic’ to Anna, and she put it out.”

Kendra didn’t seem especially surprised. “Can she answer you?”

“No. At least, not that I know of.”

“With your mind, you did that?” Flier said. “You spoke to her? I have heard of mages speaking across great distances, but I’ve also heard of swans that turn into bears that eat disruptive children.” He gave an attempt at laughing that failed.

“Had you ever heard of flying dragons?” Kendra asked. “Not Wyverns, but true-dragons?”

His laugh came to an abrupt halt. “There were stories of Wyverns told by responsible people, but I’d never seen one until this last few years. Nobody told serious tales of seeing a dragon.”

I said, “Then our story is almost the same. A month ago they were myths.”

He gave me a quizzical look that almost brought a smile to my lips. He finally said, “The little one, Emma, faced down this dragon. Is she a sorceress?”

Kendra and I exchanged glances. She shrugged. “We are trying to tell you the truth, but we don’t know what’s happening any more than you. Emma may be a sorceress—or something else. She has magic in her.”

“Twice Damon has asked you if there are any mages nearby,” he said, then waited for her answer.

“As I said before, I can sense them in my mind. Not talk to them or anything, but if they are within a certain distance, I know it. Same with the dragon.” She hadn’t even hesitated in explaining. “He asked because the appearance of a mage might indicate an attack on us.”

He wiped his stone along the edge of the sword a few more times, the sound of stone on steel ringing in the still night air. His thumb tested the sharpness. “We all have secrets, I guess.”

Anna pounced on his statement as she and Emma moved to sit at my side and peer at him in the starlight. “What are yours?”

He seemed confused, then sighed. “Yes, we all have them. Mine is that I am more than a simple messenger. My father was an advisor to the King of Vin, who was part of the royal family of Kondor. Not that we were royal, but my family was so wealthy we sometimes loaned the crown gold. That’s how my father could afford to buy me a commission in the army.”

Kendra said, “Vin is another small kingdom not ruled by a king today, right?”

“That’s what I hear, but it was when I carried his messages to the king of Trager. Nobody knows who is on the Council of Nine for Kondor, and I assume the same in Vin, but my father would never betray the king.” He sat quietly for a moment then continued, “I fear for my family.”

“What about all the gold your father has?” Anna asked brightly, her smile mischievous.

“I don’t know. They may have taken it. But not all. Only fools keep all their wealth in a single place. I know where there are several emergency caches of gold and silver. In the history of our family, this isn’t the first adversity we’ve faced.”

Considering our purses were emptier than I liked, and that we had a long way to go, the idea of a loan crossed my mind, but my lips remained closed. I tested the edge of the sword Kendra would use and found it acceptable—meaning it was as sharp as the metal would allow, but nothing like mine. The soft metal would dull quickly. It was tip-heavy and too wide to wield effectively, especially for someone smaller like my sister.

I handed her mine. The light, thin blade in her hands would become a fierce weapon, while the heavier one would be more productive with me. Flier stood off to one side, waving his sword in the air as if in a victory celebration. Obviously, he had no swordsmanship skills at all.

“Flier, let me show you a few more things,” I called with a laugh, intending to position his feet properly.

He looked in my direction, then past me, to the top of the mountain pass, his eyes flaring wide with fear. He shouted, “There!”

He needed to say no more as all eyes turned to look, and the roar of the Dragon would have drowned out any sound. Men seemed to appear from within the ground as they rose from hidden places, their backs covered with branches and leaves they’d attached to themselves to hide their dirty brown robes as they had crawled closer and closer. Each brandished a sword much like the one in my hand.

There were too many to count in the dim light. I charged forward to meet the first, Flier at my side. While his skill was in question, his bravery and dedication were not. Together we faced ten or more men, all screaming and shouting as they raced our way.

However, before they reached us, the dragon moved and blocked their path. It spread its wings and hissed as it extended its neck and snapped a mouth full of wicked teeth in their direction. Only fools would continue their charge, and I slowed, holding out my arm to bar Flier from running past.

At a shouted order, the attackers spread out. Flier and I stood in the protection of the dragon’s tail and warily watched. If they spread out enough, I could probably take them on one at a time. Without bragging, my skills were considerable, as well they should be after so many years of daily instruction.

However, with the protection of the dragon in front of me, I pulled my bow free, strung it, and reached for an arrow. As quickly as I could fit it to the string, my eyes were on the closest enemy, whoever they were. The arrow flew as I pulled another before the first struck a man dead center—which was an accurate description. Dead.

The second arrow flew a little high but my small-magic corrected that while in flight, and a second warrior fell, an arrow centered in his chest, also. While only a sliver of a yellow moon and the bright white stars helped us see, at least our night vision helped us, and the attackers had no advantage in that regard.

My third arrow struck as true as the first two, again with the help of magic. Flier said, “You are the best archer I’ve ever seen.”

I wanted to make a joke to relieve the tension but saw another enemy stand from concealment and strike a familiar stance. He was also an archer. “Down,” I shouted.

Flier and I dropped to the ground at the same time. An arrow passed harmlessly over me, but the danger was still there. I leaped to my feet, fitting an arrow and drawing on my small-magic at the same time. The arrow left my bow, and I dived to the ground again. Our arrows must have passed each other along the way, because before I hit the ground and rolled, the whistle of the arrow sounded.

His missed. Mine didn’t. Kendra and the girls were well behind us, her with my sword in her hand as she retreated. She herded the girls back down the trail, probably looking for a place to defend if any attackers got past Flier and me. She would protect the girls as would any mother.

The shouting had ceased after the first sounding. It was probably done to upset and confuse the victims, as was the waving of the swords in the dim night light. At other times, the scene would have scared me, too. Now, I stood behind a dragon that suddenly tensed and darted forward a dozen steps as quick as any snake strikes.

It paused, then moved ahead again, twenty more steps. It was crouched and ready for another charge when one of the men who had been hidden as he laid in the thick brush leaped to his feet and fled in panic. He only took a step or two before the dragon snapped him up in her mouth and shook him like a dog with a rat.

Both Flier and I were on the left side of the dragon, moving ahead after it moved, still using her great body as a shield. Flier moved slightly behind me, his sword in hand, his eyes searching for someone to fight. I had another arrow nocked and ready to fly but saw nobody. After their display of fierceness to scare us, they now hid in the darkness and waited.

A scream penetrated the air. A woman’s scream. Kendra.