dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon (19 page)

“This is amazing,” he said. “Do you know what it is?”

“Corbin, our tutor, told us it’s a sacred grove. He said it’s probably been here a thousand years.”

Lleland nodded. “At least.” He pointed to the spirals. “This is an ancient symbol thought to represent completeness.”

“Corbin said it represented the three elements: earth, sea and sky.”

Lleland nodded. “The complete universe. Do you come here often?”

“I like to come here to think. It’s so peaceful.”

“It does seem like a good place to contemplate life, doesn’t it.” Lleland sat down on a stone and reached into his cloth sack to withdraw his daybook and writing kit. He sharpened a quill, then dipped it into the ink. A fat drop splashed back into the jar before he lifted it to the page.

‘Sacred grove in Northern Mountains,’ he wrote. He made a few notes about the site then drew a rough sketch of the layout of the stones, which he examined critically. It showed the basic proportions adequately enough, but his talents did not lie in drawing.

“Would you like me to draw the designs for you?” Lydia asked. She was seated on the stone next to his. He glanced at her with a smile.

“That bad, eh? I’m not much of an artist, I’m afraid.” He handed her the book, and watched as she swiftly copied the pattern from the rocks. “Much better than mine,” he said when she was done. “Do you draw often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can you draw dragons?”

She glanced at him. “I think so.”

“I saw two golden dragons this morning. You’re probably familiar with them. Can you draw them?”

She stared at him a moment, then turned the page and started drawing, swiftly sketching an outline of two dragons. She turned the book towards him. “Like this?”

He bent down to examine the sketch. She had drawn the two beasts with their wings outstretched, tails streaming behind them, just as he had seen them this morning. Flames poured from the mouth of the larger, while the smaller one looked directly forward. “Incredible!” he said. “You’ve very talented,” he said.

“I’ve had years to observe them,” she said, placing the book on the ground so the ink could dry.

“Yes, I suppose you have.” A shaft of sunlight fell on her, and he watched as the light played in her hair, making each strand look like spun gold. His gaze caught hers, and he drew in his breath. Her golden eyes, framed between long brown lashes, sparkled and shimmered. He glanced at her lips soft and pink. He pulled his gaze away and looked at his book. “I think the ink is dry,” he said. He glanced back at her to see she was studying the stones.

“Are you an archer?” she said. “I remember you brought a bow to Storbrook.”

“I am.”

“Did you have someone to teach you?”

“Yes. His name was Grim.” He told her about the man who had trained him in weaponry, omitting any mention of dragons. “I suppose in a way, I’m the person I am today because of him,” he said.

“I suspect you had the makings of a good man before you even met him,” Lydia said when he was done. “He just added the finishing touches.” She smiled. “Since you’ve brought your bow all this way, why don’t you do some hunting? Cook is always complaining her kitchen isn’t stocked enough. There are plenty of fallow and red deer in these forests.”

Lleland nodded. “I’d be happy to stock the pantry, and I need to maintain my strength. I’ll go in the morning.”

“Cook will be pleased.” Lydia rose gracefully to her feet. “We should start heading back to Storbrook if we want supper,” she said. She turned to him with a smile as a single ray of sunshine shone down on her, casting her in a golden light.

Chapter 20

Lleland took his bow and arrows and headed down the mountainside early the next morning. The two dragons were out again, and he glanced at them as he walked, until the canopy of trees blocked his view. He followed the path he had taken with Lydia the previous day, but veered to the west when he drew close to the clearing, heading deeper into the woods. The heat of the day had not yet reached the shadowed depths, and the air was thick with the damp smell of mulch. Birds twittered between the trees, fluttering from branch to branch as he walked beneath.

As he crossed a small meadow he noticed that the smaller of the two dragons was still soaring through the heavens. It circled above him, and he watched it for a moment before continuing on his way. He was surprised it hadn’t returned to its lair, and the thought crossed his mind that the creature was tracking him. His hand tightened around his bow, its weight a comfort.

As Lleland walked, he checked the ground and bushes for signs that deer were nearby. A river roared in the distance, and he headed towards the sound, treading quietly. The cool scent of water reached him a short while later, and he paused, checking the lay of the land before continuing. The ground was higher to his right and he took that direction. The river came into view, and he paused once more. On the banks were small bushes and lush green grass. The roaring he had heard was from a waterfall further downstream, but here the river was flowing at a more sedate pace, and a calm pool of water made a perfect watering hole. He crouched down and rubbed dirt over his skin to mask his scent, then leaned his back against the trunk of a tree, partially hidden behind some bushes, to wait.

He was rewarded an hour later when a small herd of deer appeared from beneath the trees and walked into the sunlight. They moved forward cautiously, stopping to sniff the air every few feet. After a few moments, they lowered their heads to the sweet grass. Selecting a small doe, Lleland slowly raised his bow, an arrow already notched, to his cheek. He waited a moment, checking his sights, before releasing the arrow. It sprung from the bow with a slight whir. The doe raised its head as the arrow had sunk into its chest. It turned, trying to follow the rest of the herd as they leaped from the clearing, but the wound was fatal and it stumbled and fell. Running over to where it lay, Lleland plunged the arrow deeper into the heart, and watched as the light faded from the creature’s eyes.

It did not take Lleland long to gut the animal, and after a quick rinse in the river, he hefted the carcass onto his shoulders and started the long hike back to Storbrook. He kept to the shade as he walked, but the sweat was pouring off his brow and down his back by the time the castle finally came into sight. His legs were tired, and his shoulders ached, but he kept a steady pace.

Marching across the courtyard, he made his way to the kitchens, where he laid his load on the table. Cook was busy stirring a pot over the fire, but at the noise she turned to stare at the bloody carcass.

“Take it to the storeroom,” she said. “You’re making a mess.” She turned to one of the girls. “Go find John,” she said. She turned back to the fire as Lleland stared at her, torn between amusement and annoyance. He lifted the animal and carried it the storeroom, where he dumped it on another table, then headed back outside. A barrel of water stood near one of the castle walls, and using a ladle he sluiced the water over his back and arms to wash away the drying blood. He turned around to see Lydia watching him.

“It’s going to take more than a few ladles to wash all that muck off,” she said.

“Don’t I know it,” he said grimly. “And you said Cook would be delighted. She didn’t even thank me.”

Lydia laughed. “She’s like that with everyone. But she was grateful.”

“Hmph,” was Lleland’s only reply.

“I know a waterfall we can reach in a few minutes if you’re interested,” she said.

Lleland glanced at his arms, still stained with dried blood. “Lead the way, Mistress,” he said. He fell into step with her as they crossed the courtyard. “Is there any part of these mountains you don’t know?” he asked as they passed through the gate.

“Probably not,” she said. “I spent my childhood exploring every inch.”

“You never got lost?”

“Once,” she admitted. “I was about ten, and had been searching for an eagle’s nest. I wandered too far, and when I started for home, I didn’t know which way to go.”

“How did you get back?”

“Father found me.”

“In these mountains? You must have been lost for days!”

Lydia shrugged and turned away. “My father has a talent for tracking. He was able to find me within hours.” They headed out the castle and took a narrow path.

Lleland heard a faint splash of water, and when the trail curved, he could see the waterfall next to the path. It was little more than a stream tumbling over a wall of rock about seven feet high. Lleland stripped off his tunic and went to stand in the shower of water, pressing himself against the rock to catch as much of the flow as he could. The water was icy, and he shivered as it splashed over him, washing away the stains of his morning. He pushed his hair from his face and stepped from the water to see Lydia watching him. In the bright sunshine, her golden eyes looked like they were on fire. He swallowed hard.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Colder and cleaner,” he replied.

“Good. You must be hungry. I saw some berries close by.” Lleland’s stomach growled as he remembered he hadn’t eaten that morning, and Lydia laughed. “Definitely hungry,” she said. She led him through some trees, then stopped in front of a large bush covered in berries, still green and ripening.

“They don’t look ready for eating,” Lleland pointed out.

“Not those,” Lydia said. “But the berries at the back are ripe.”

The back of the bush overhung a steep cliff, and Lleland looked at her in disbelief. “You cannot be serious,” he said. She smiled, and hitched her gown to her knees.

“Look, there’s a branch,” she said, pointing above her head. Lleland looked up to see a thick branch reaching beyond the edge of the cliff.

“You can’t climb that,” he said aghast.

“Why not?” She kicked off her shoes and pulled herself onto the branch.

“Stop,” he cried as she rose to her feet and started walking along the length of the limb. He tried to grab her foot, but she skipped past him with a laugh.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Please, Lydia, come down.”

“I won’t fall,” she promised. She continued walking along the branch, passing the edge of the cliff, as Lleland watched in dismay. Dropping to her haunches, she reached out and grabbed a handful of berries which she tossed into her mouth. She grabbed another handful, then straightening, turned and walked back to where Lleland stood and dropped lightly to the ground.

“Would you like some?” she asked, holding a handful of berries out to him. Ire and relief mingled together as he stared at her. Her lips were stained from the berries, and they parted slightly as he glanced at them. He stepped closer, then leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, tasting the sweet juice. He pulled away a moment later and looked into her eyes. She stared back at him, her emotions unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

A light shade of pink tinged her cheeks, and she glanced at the berries still in her hand. “You’d better eat these,” she said as she held them out to him, and he could see the hint of a smile, “since I risked my very life to obtain them for you.”

He stared at her another moment, then took one from her hand and popped it in his mouth. “Thank you, Mistress,” he said.

Days stretched into weeks, but Lleland could not bring himself to leave. The daylight hours were spent exploring the mountains with Lydia. He did not kiss her again, but the memory of her soft lips beneath his lingered in his thoughts. Before he pressed any further, though, he wanted to be sure of her feelings for him.

There was one thing he knew for sure, however. Lydia was quite unlike any other woman he had ever met. Intelligent and well informed, she did not hesitate to speak her mind. She was clearly loved by the staff, many of whom had known her from childhood, and she loved them all in return. She was also fiercely loyal to the dragons, and Lleland soon realized that she would never change her opinion about them.

“You know that dragons are dangerous,” he said one time.

“Such as those you’ve seen around Storbrook?”

“They’re an exception.”

“You have no objectivity when it comes to dragons,” she scoffed. “Even in the light of contrary evidence, you won’t countenance anything that contradicts your views.”

He threw up his hands. “I cannot discuss this with you,” he said.

She crossed her arms. “Not until you can admit that you’re wrong. You’re supposed to be a seeker of truth!”

“What is truth, Lydia? The way I see it, there’s your truth, and then there’s mine. Which is actually truth?”

“Mine, of course.”

The evenings were spent in the company of Lydia and her parents, either in the hall, where the servants organized various entertainments to amuse themselves, or in the private solar, in more quiet pursuits. Whenever there was an opportunity for quiet conversation with Aaron, Lleland took it, but he learned little more about dragons.

“Do you know that you’re hailed as the dragon-slayer in Civitas?” he asked Aaron one evening.

Aaron nodded. “So I’ve heard.” Keira was sitting at his side, and he glanced at her. “I told someone once that I would like to be known as ‘dragon-slayer,’ but I confess it was a lie.” He turned back to Lleland. “It is a title I greatly dislike.”

“But you killed a monster!”

“Only because of what he was doing. Not because of what he was.”

“Many others tried to kill the beast, but failed. Your knowledge of these creatures must be vast.”

Thomas entered the room and gestured to Aaron. He rose, then glanced back at Lleland. “You have a splendid opportunity to observe and learn for yourself,” he said, before following Thomas through the door.

Lleland had not allowed the conversation to deter him, but he continued to be frustrated in his efforts to garner knowledge from his host. One evening, however, when he had been at Storbrook for a few weeks, he found himself alone with Aaron in the parlor. A chessboard was set up on a table, and Aaron motioned towards it. “Are you up for a game?” he asked.

“I am,” Lleland replied, taking a seat on the black side of the board.