Dragon Lord (2 page)

He stared at her, trying to figure out a way around the oath. She’d worded it too well. There were only two options. Burn the oath or kill Edana. And he didn’t think he could kill her no matter how annoying she was. He eyed her pouch.

Edana glanced down at her pouch. “There’s no way you can get the oath back. The pouch is spelled against everyone except my family.”

“Why you-” Fen lunged for Edana, pushing her to the ground. She tried to roll away but he grabbed a hold of her plait.

“I’ll call the guards.”

“What does it matter? I’m dead anyway.”

“You’re not.” Edana tried to pull her plait from his hand, the other fending off the hand going for her throat. “I promise. Hear me. Be your own master.”

Fen stilled. He kept Edana’s plait twisted around one hand and the other hand pressed against her throat where both her hands kept trying to pull it away. His brown eyes stared unblinking at her. His woollen cap had come off and short black hair stood up in all directions.

“Speak quickly,” Fen warned.

“Let me go first.” Edana tugged the hand at her throat.

“I haven’t got all night.”

Edana swallowed hard. “One of our maids was killed recently. She went home on her day off to visit her parents. Her father had been bitten by a swamp dragon and he didn’t get it seen to. The poison sent him mad and he killed them all. His son, who worked the swamps with him, his wife and his daughter. All of them. Then the fever became too bad and his heart stopped. There was an aunt. She was visiting friends and came home to blood everywhere. They had to lock her up. Some people say she hasn’t stopped screaming. No one’ll go near the place. They say with a death like that the spirits won’t rest. You could stay there. It’s at the edge of the swamp. All their traps and stuff will still be there. I’ll give you some money. You’ll be fine and the dragon will be safe.”

“Except for the spirits.” He tightened his grip on her throat when she tried to shake her head.

“I have a potion for that. Father ordered another potion but the wizard couldn’t read his writing so he sent the wrong one. I have money you can have. I’ll visit and make sure you have everything you need. Anything. Give me some terms and I’ll meet them. I can even teach you to read.”

“What do I want with reading? I get along without it.”

“You get along, but you don’t get anywhere. The ones who run things need to know how to read. To truly be your own master you must learn.”

“I can’t cross Rhone. He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t have to know. Leave the dragon at the house and go back to him. Tell him there was someone in here all night. You waited for them to come out but they didn’t. Anything. Just save the dragon for me,” Edana pleaded.

“Why? What’s so special about him?”

“He touched my mind. He knows he’s doomed. It was like a butterfly wing brushing me. He looked at me with his silver eyes and I knew he was begging me for help. No words, just emotions. If he touched your mind you’d do anything to help him too.”

“That’s a myth. Dragon’s can’t mind-read or mind-talk. They’d tell us off for the way we treat them if they could. They have to be plain stupid not to rebel against us for keeping them like slaves. They’re animals. Like a horse or dog.”

“I’ll show you. Let me up and I’ll show you.”

Fen’s eyes narrowed. “I let you up. You show me. If the dragon can’t do what you say then you give me the blood oath and let me walk out of here with him. If he does what you say then I take him to your spirit house.”

“Deal,” Edana said. “But you have to give him time. Ten minutes at least. He’s only a baby.”

Fen nodded once. His hands let her go and he stood. He picked up his woollen cap, hit it against his leg to remove the straw and pulled it back on. He watched Edana take the grey dragon from the pen and struggle over to him with it. She placed the dragon on the ground in front of him.

“Please touch his mind. Like you did to me. He won’t save you unless you do. Please. You asked me to save you. This is all I can come up with. I sat with you every night the past week trying to think of something. And every minute during the day when I can escape my tutors. This is it.” Edana stroked the dragon’s head. The scales smooth, the ridge down the centre of his head rough. Edana’s eyes glittered in the lamplight. “I know he’s not much to look at, a bit scrawny, but he’s all I can find.”

“I haven’t got all night,” Fen said sharply, annoyed by her last comment.

“You gave him ten minutes. They’re not up yet.” Edana turned back to the dragon who watched her solemnly. That was all he did. He watched and listened. There were no butterfly touches. Even when Edana made Fen kneel beside the dragon and touch him and look him in the eye. Nothing. Exactly what Fen had expected.

“It’s well past your ten minutes.” Fen guessed it must be by the frantic tone in Edana’s voice. “I told you dragons are just another animal. Come on, Eddie. Give up. Let me have my oath back. You made a deal. And the hanky.”

Edana shoved the parchment and handkerchief at him. “You’re cruel and heartless. I hope you rot in hell.”

She turned away as Fen bent to pick up the dragon before he moved into the next room. He let the metal door close softly behind him and put the dragon down on one of the raised areas. Even though there were no eggs here, there was still a heat stone. He stared wistfully at it and then at the door to outside.

He shoved his blood oath and the handkerchief into the pouch that hung at his rope belt and looked around for something to wrap the dragon in. He couldn’t walk the streets with his arms filled by a dragon. People would notice. Seeing folded blankets in a corner he grabbed one. It was soft and thick so he picked up another. It’d keep the damp off him until he reached Rhone’s place. Then Rhone would probably take it from him.

“Rich people,” Fen muttered as he tied the blanket at his neck so it draped like a cloak. “These are too good for animal blankets.” He took the other blanket to the dragon. As he was about to wrap him he felt something. Like butterfly wings against his mind.

“I imagined it.” Fen shook his head.

The dragon looked at him and he felt it stronger this time. A feeling of sorrow as others had joy. A feeling of pleading.

“That’s you?” He stared at the dragon, hoping it was. It was better than thinking he’d lost his mind.

The dragon dipped his head.

Fen was relieved. He wasn’t losing his mind after all. “Why now?” He saw an image of the blood oath. Then of two paths. “Great. A dragon that sends riddles.” A rush of annoyance hit him. “Fine. I understand you. I’ve got to make my own choice. But why? You could’ve let Eddie use the blood oath and you’d always be safe.”

A sense of impatience and then the two roads again. Fen sighed.

“Let’s go find her. And how about you walk this time. You’re too heavy to carry for long.”

The dragon walked to the edge of the raised area and waited for Fen to lift him down. Together they walked to the metal door and Fen opened it. Edana leaned against the door to the pen the dragon had come from. Her head jerked up at the sound. She glanced away and wiped her face on her sleeve.

“What do you want?” Edana demanded.

“Spirit cleaning potion.”

“Really?” Her expression was cautious.

Fen couldn’t resist answering in a sarcasm laden tone. “No.”

Edana squealed and launched herself at him. “You’re wonderful. You won’t regret this. It’s the best plan. You’ll see.”

“I already regret this.” Fen untangled Edana from him and held her at arm’s length.

“We have to be quick. We can’t stay around here much longer or the guards will be back. How did you get into our place?”

Fen described the section of wall he’d come over.

Edana nodded. “I’ll meet you there. It won’t take me long to get the potion and some money for you.”

“Small stuff. Coins,” Fen said. When Edana nodded, he said, “And a knife. One that isn’t spelled.” He pointed to her boots. “And I don’t suppose you’ve got a pair like them that’d fit me?”

Edana grinned. “I don’t have long, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Fen sighed as he watched Edana leave. “I must be mad.” He turned to the dragon. “Come on then. Let’s get out of here.”

Fen grabbed the second blanket as he went through the egg room and nearly made it to the door before he swore. He grabbed a heated rock and a lamp, wrapping each in a blanket, creating a sling from another blanket to carry them. “Come on. We’d better get out of here before the guards come back.”

The dragon followed Fen to the wall where he noticed it was shivering. “Why didn’t you say something?” Fen took the blanket he wore as a cloak and wrapped it around the dragon. He then pulled the dragon onto his lap and settled the heat stone against him. “Don’t go getting sick because I wouldn’t have the first idea how to look after a sick dragon.”

Fen was glad he didn’t have long to wait. It was cold and the dragon was heavy. He didn’t know how he was going to get him to the spirit house. As soon as he saw Edana, Fen put the dragon on the ground with the heat stone, both still wrapped in blankets, and went to meet her.

She pushed a heavy backpack at him. “I’ve drawn a map for you. I’ve used pictures of common things since you can’t read. You’ll know the place when you come to it. There’s a red rag tied at the start of the lane heading to their gate, one on their gate and one nailed to their front door. Now you need to put four drops of the potion in every room and then two on the doorstep. It doesn’t matter which rooms you do first or in what order, as long as the two drops on the doorstep are done last.”

Fen nodded. “I’d better go before the guards start searching for the dragon.”

“I’ll come and see you as soon as I can. It might not be straight away. There’ll be many eyes around the place after they notice the dragon’s been stolen.”

Fen started to turn away.

“Thank you, Fen.”

“I can’t promise anything. I don’t know a single thing about looking after dragons.”

“Thank you for giving him a chance. Even when you didn’t have to. What changed your mind?”

“Butterfly wings and a choice.” Fen swung the backpack on and walked to the dragon. He heard Edana laugh behind him and smiled grimly. He didn’t think there’d be much laughter over the next few days. He still had to face Rhone.

Fen stared at the red cloth nailed to the front door. The timber house had never been painted and the wood was stained from the damp air that came in off the swamp. A sagging porch sheltered the front door, weeds growing between the boards he stood on.

He stared down at the dragon he’d laid by the front door. Maybe it’d be safer to move him to the fence. He didn’t know what to expect when he used the potion.

Fen sighed. Then he sighed once more as he thought of all the sighing he’d been doing that night. Probably as many tonight as he’d done in his fifteen or so years. It was hard to know exactly how old he was because when his mother had died there’d been no one to take care of him and he’d ended up on the streets with other orphans. He vaguely recalled a hand gently stroking his cheek as he went to sleep, calloused and rough from hard work. So he’d probably been less than a handful of years, he wasn’t certain.

“Come on then, let’s get you to a safe distance.” Fen picked up the dragon and ignored the burning ache in his arms as he carried it to the fence. “Stay here.”

The dragon looked at him sleepily then laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

“I wish I could do the same.” He placed the heat stone against the dragon and turned to the backpack. With an edge of the blanket pulled away from the wizard lamp, Fen was able to see what was in it. Or at least what was on top. A small potion bottle was nestled in some clothes. Beneath them could be anything.

With the potion bottle in hand he headed to the house and stepped inside. A thin layer of dust had settled on the wooden chairs arranged around a fireplace. On the other side of the room was a desk with a handful of parchments and an open ledger covered in numbers. Shelves with some dusty books, a jar of dead flowers, several hand-carved animals and a few shells were beside the desk. Fen opened the bottle and let four drops of the potion fall to the dusty floorboards before he went through the only other door in the room. He froze in the doorway.

It was a kitchen with a large cooking fireplace and an oven set into the side of it. A scarred wooden table and six sturdy chairs were in the middle of the room. Shelves against one wall held wooden plates, pottery cups and tin cutlery. On the top shelf was a single china teacup. Pots and pans hung on hooks near the fireplace. Stairs led above and a door opened to outside. It was similar to most other kitchens of a family several steps up from poor, but not well enough off to be part of the merchant class. He’d seen plenty of them in his many forays for Rhone. But this one had a major difference.

Fen was no novice to the sight of blood, freshly shed or darkened with age. He’d shed enough of it himself, particularly at the hands of Rhone whenever he’d displeased him. But he’d never seen a room so covered in it. The walls were splashed with rust-coloured spray, the floor stained by large puddles. Even the shelves, the contents on them and the table and chairs hadn’t been missed.

“No wonder the aunt went crazy.” Fen hurried into the room to use the potion. He tried not to think about the dried blood beneath his bare feet or about what mad act would’ve caused so much blood to be shed.

As soon as he finished, he almost ran upstairs and hoped it wouldn’t look the same as the kitchen. He found himself in a small, dim hall. Not knowing if it was counted as a room, he used the potion there anyway. He didn’t want to risk the return of a spirit as mad as the one who’d decorated the kitchen. Three doors lead off the hall. One straight ahead and one on either side. He opened the door on his left and stepped into a small room that was obviously a bedroom. He was relieved to see no blood. He used the potion and soon moved onto the next two rooms, both bedrooms about the same size as the first one. Then he hurried to the doorstep. Tilting the potion bottle, he watched as two drops hit the porch floorboards.

Fen stepped back. He didn’t know what to expect. All he heard was what sounded like a soft sigh on the breeze. He’d expected more. A loud boom or something. He felt a butterfly wing brush his mind and a feeling of hunger. For a moment he thought it was the spirits before he realised it was the dragon.

“I’m coming,” Fen groaned and moved towards the dragon. He placed the potion into the backpack, hoisted it onto his back and then lifted the dragon and heat stone. His arms trembled and the distance seemed impossibly far.

As soon as he settled the dragon by the fireplace in the front room, Fen rummaged through the backpack. “What do dragons eat? Eddie’s packed fruit, bread, cheese, some sort of roast meat and something in a covered bowl.” Fen undid the string and slid the piece of linen off the bowl. He sniffed at the creamy coloured thickened liquid. “I still don’t know what it is.” A feeling of pleasure washed over him and with a shrug he gave it to the dragon who started to lap it up.

Fen reached out for a slice of the roasted meat but stopped. He knew what he had to do. And more than likely he’d be retching on the doorstep of Rhone’s place after it. He didn’t want to waste good food. The dragon looked up at him, a question in his eyes. Fen sighed. Yet again.

“I’ve business to tend to. I’m not leaving you, but it might take me a while to get back. I’ll lay a fire for you before I go. You hide if anyone but Ed comes, you hear?”

The dragon looked at Fen steadily.

“It’d be easier if you could speak. And you need a name too. Do you have one?”

A large body of water appeared in Fen’s mind.

“Sea?”

The large body of water narrowed.

“Stream?”

A rush of frustration hit Fen and he almost stumbled backwards. The body of water widened.

“River?”

Approval.

“Like I said. It’d be easier if you could talk. Where did your name come from?”

Fen saw a mother dragon lean over an egg, breathing hot air onto it. She appeared to speak to it and then moved to the next egg. This was the clearest image yet. He could hardly believe he was communicating with a dragon.

“Your ma?”

Approval again.

Fen grinned. “Looks like I might be getting the hang of this. Anything else you like to eat besides slop?”

A tumble of food ran through Fen’s mind. Meats of all kinds, fish, eggs, bread, milk, and many other dishes he didn’t recognise.

“Fair enough. Now remember, River, stay here. Don’t show yourself to anyone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Fen hurried outside and collected kindling and firewood. He laid a fire and lit it with the flint and steel on the mantle then pulled out the blood oath and handkerchief and fed them to the flames. The moment they were consumed he felt no better. There was still the problem of Rhone. Just as bad as a blood oath. He gave River a pat on the head before he went outside.

There was a thin streak of light in the sky. “Rhone’s going to be madder than a swamp dragon.” He stared at the sky a moment longer before he strode towards the gate, ignoring the ache in his legs that matched the one in his arms.