Mistress of Dragons Read online

  Gunderson talked on, and Draconas sat down in a chair and let him.

  Watching the king closely, Draconas saw the hazel eyes darken until they became unreadable. The expressive face, previously open to all, slammed shut its doors, quenched the inner lights. The king listened politely to the older man, but his gaze strayed to the leather pouch hanging on the staff.

  “A young man,” Draconas mused, “beset early in life by the burdens of kingship—burdens that grow heavier every day. He was married young to a woman he barely knew with the object of reducing him to a nonentity. Now he must be husband and father, not only to his family, but to his people. He stands knee-deep in their muck, bent double beneath the load. Here am I, offering him an adventure spun of moondust and topaz and a mysterious beauty. Like the chivalrous knights of old, he goes forth with a noble cause, to save his kingdom. I offer him the chance to cast off the burdens, forget for a brief time that he is king, husband, father. He would be more than human if he refused.”

  “My mind is made up,” said Edward, cutting Gunderson off in midsentence. The voice he used was the king’s voice, cold and impersonal. “I will go with Master Draconas. I know I run a great risk, dear friend,” he added, relenting, “but it seems to me that if there is the slightest chance that this might work, that I can rid our kingdom forever of the dragon’s scourge, then the risk is one that I must take.”

  “Let me accompany you, Your Majesty,” Gunderson pleaded earnestly. “Do not go off alone with this stranger.”

  “I need you here, my friend,” said Edward, “to look after the kingdom. Ermintrude is more than capable of dealing with her father, but she will need you at her side if the worst should happen and he invades the realm.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Gunderson in heavy tones. He turned to Draconas. “See that you take excellent care of King Edward, sir. Or I promise you, there will be the devil to pay.”

  Gunderson tapped himself on the chest. “Me.”

  That night, the marauding dragon struck again.

  Though the hour was late, the knights were still sitting at table when the alarm was raised. Everyone present grabbed shield and sword and raced outside, clambering up the stone steps to the ramparts to see for themselves.

  Off in the distance, the dragon’s enormous green-scaled body gleamed in the light of the flames of burning wheat fields. The knights cursed and struck their swords against their shields, shouting challenges to the dragon to come and fight. Braun, of course, disdained their challenge and flew away with a flip of his tail, that looked for all the world as if he were deliberately insulting them.

  His face dark with fury, Edward pressed his lips together in a firm, straight line, turned on his heel, and left the wall. A short time later, the king announced in quiet, level tones that he was planning a pilgrimage. He was going to seek divine help to find a solution to their problem.

  Edward had wanted to keep his journey secret, but, as Gunderson had quite reasonably pointed out, “If you suddenly turned up missing, Sire, with no explanation, the people would panic. They might think that you fled in terror. Your absence would most certainly open the door to the king of Weinmauer.”

  “But if,” Edward had argued, “I announce that I am traveling to another kingdom on a diplomatic mission to seek help about the dragon, I will be expected to take along armed guards, servants, my ministers and advisers, my scribes, my hawks, and my knights.”

  “Go on a pilgrimage,” Draconas had suggested. “Even a king may go upon a sacred quest alone. In fact, it is almost expected.”

  Edward was struck by the notion, one that touched his romantic and adventurous nature. The age of chivalry had passed from this part of the world. Ramsgate-upon-the-Aston was starting to think more about commerce and trade than “worshipfully winning worship” which had been everything to the chivalrous knight. Those days were in the recent past and were now much celebrated. Minstrels sang of them, poets wrote of them, women sighed over them, and men spoke with regret that the chance to do gallant deeds and undertake heroic actions was gone forever.

  Not even Ermintrude could say a word against it when Edward announced his intention of leaving upon a holy pilgrimage to a distant realm, though she obviously had her doubts and fears. Edward’s knights begged to accompany him, some of them going so far as to prostrate themselves before him and plead with him. Edward was steadfast in his refusal. He had to undertake this alone. He asked only for their prayers and their blessing. The knights gave him this and a rousing cheer.

  Having no fear now that the king would change his mind—or have it changed for him—Draconas went to bed. Edward and his wife left the hall early that night, as well. He was probably with Ermintrude right now, doing his best to reassure her that he would return to her safe and sound.

  “I wonder,” said Draconas to himself, with some amusement, as he stretched out on the straw-stuffed mattress, “if Edward will tell his wife about the beautiful face in the topaz? I’ll wager he keeps that to himself.”

  6

  THE KING MANAGED TO ESCAPE THE PALACE AND THE city with a minimum of fanfare, much less than Draconas had expected.

  Dawn had yet to break when Edward mounted his horse for the journey. A priest was present to bless and anoint the king. His family was there, Ermintrude with a brave, supportive smile and anxious, troubled eyes; Prince Wilhelm bitterly disappointed that he couldn’t go. The knights gathered, and so did many townsfolk, for the rumor of the king’s departure had spread like dragon fire, as one wag said. No one cheered, for this was a sacred pilgrimage. Many murmured blessings as their king rode past. Draconas was not present. He had arranged to meet the king on the road outside the walls. The less notice he brought to himself, the better.

  Gunderson rode with His Majesty as far as the city walls, where he turned his king over to Draconas with a baleful look, a final clasp of hands. Edward had with him three horses—a pack horse, a horse that was to be a gift for the Mistress of Dragons, and a horse for Draconas.

  “Gunderson told me that you arrived in the kingdom on foot,” said Edward, handing over the reins to a less-than-enthusiastic Draconas. “Accept this with my gratitude for all you have done.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” Draconas pointed out, eyeing the horse, who eyed him back.

  Draconas did not like to ride. With his dragon-gifted strength and endurance (far beyond that of normal humans), he had no need. He could run long stretches at a time, covering as many miles in a day as a horse, without stopping to rest. That was one reason.

  There was yet another.

  Animals and Draconas did not get along. Some beasts took fright and fled. Others attacked him on sight. Most animals appeared perplexed. They didn’t know what he was, but they knew what he wasn’t. He wasn’t human. Village dogs would follow him for miles, sniffing at his heels and whining. There had once been a cat, a small tortoiseshell, who sat in front of him for hours, her head cocked to one side, her golden eyes staring and staring.

  He had to be especially careful with horses, who would flatten back their ears, snort, stamp, and roll their eyes at his approach. Once he was near, however, he could usually soothe them with his voice and firm touch, so that they would permit him to mount, as he did with the king’s horse. The filly was restless and edgy, however, constantly swiveling her head to regard him with deep suspicion.

  “I’ve never seen Falderal act like this,” Edward said. “Perhaps there’s a burr under her saddle.”

  Draconas could have told the king that it was not the burr under the saddle that was bothering the horse, just the dragon atop it. Since he could not very well say that, he dismounted and was starting to remove the saddle to check, when he heard hoofbeats.

  The day was incredibly quiet. Animals had gone to ground for fear of the dragon; the birds hid fearfully in the trees, their songs silenced. Even thieves and brigands had fled the kingdom, or so Edward said. Draconas’s acute hearing picked up rhythmic pounding behind them,
pounding that continued on for a bit, then suddenly ceased.

  Draconas looked south, back down the way they had come. The country through which they were riding was open grasslands, extending beyond both sides of a road that rose and dipped among small hills. The road ran straight, and it was well-maintained, for it led from Ramsgate-upon-the-Aston to the town of Bramfell located in the northern part of the kingdom, famous—so Edward said—for its wool.

  A glint of light in the distance attracted his attention. Draconas’s eyesight was as keen as his hearing. A dragon in flight can spot a mouse in the fields hundreds of feet below. His vision was not quite that good—his human eyes limited him— but it was better than that of the average human. Atop a hill some distance behind them were five riders. The glint he saw came from the sun shining on the lens of a spyglass one of them was holding.

  In the next eye blink, the riders were gone. He did not hear the hoofbeats.

  “What is it?” Edward asked, noting Draconas’s preoccupation. “The dragon?”

  “I thought so, but I was mistaken,” said Draconas. He replaced the saddle, bent down to cinch it, all the while listening for the hoofbeats.

  Nothing.

  “I don’t want to be caught out here in the open by that foul beast,” said Edward, looking grim.

  “No,” said Draconas, glancing around. “Not out here in the open.”

  He remounted and they started off. Draconas listened intently and very soon he heard a muffled echo, distant hoofbeats, coming along behind. He and the king traveled a good five miles and all the while the hoofbeats remained behind them, not drawing nearer, keeping their distance.

  Draconas developed a theory. A small roadside shrine, nestled in a stand of trees, provided him a chance to test it. The king halted to make an offering, for, he said, he needed all the help he could get. Draconas led the horses to a nearby stream for water and listened and watched back down the road to the south. He heard the hoofbeats for several moments before they came to a halt. He thought he caught the glint of light, but he couldn’t be sure due to the dust they’d raised and the haze of a warm afternoon.

  Edward proposed they remain here for lunch and to rest the horses. Draconas agreed.

  They both drank from the stream, laved water over their faces and necks, then Edward brought forth a luncheon “fit for a king,” as he said laughingly. He laid out bread and two whole roasted capons, wrapped in cheesecloth, and placed a skin of ale into the stream to cool. Edward handed over one of the capons, tore the leg off the other, and began eating.

  “By my faith, this is good,” he said, gnawing on a chicken leg with as much gusto as a small boy. The king gazed contently out over the green meadowland. “No one wants me. No one needs me. No one is hounding me to fix this, answer that, sign this, don’t sign that, listen to the same grievance for the hundredth time ...”

  He paused, gave a great sigh of contentment that came from somewhere deep inside him. “No one can find me.”

  Draconas gave the king a moment to enjoy this peaceful interlude before he shattered it.

  “Do you have any enemies?” he asked.

  “A king always has enemies,” said Edward cheerfully.

  “I mean, enemies who would want to do you serious harm.”

  Edward looked intently at Draconas, then said, more somberly, “If you mean enemies who want to see me come under the thumb of Weinmauer, then the answer is yes. If you mean enemies who want to see me dead, then the answer is ... well. . .”

  He pondered, thoughtful. “I suppose no man wants to think there is another out there bent on taking his life, but I guess there could be, though none come to mind at the moment.”

  “Would your father-in-law want to see you dead?” Draconas pursued.

  “He wouldn’t be prostrate with grief if I died of natural causes. Weinmauer is not a dummy. He knows he would be the first suspect if I were to die by foul means. He would earn the undying hatred of his daughter, for one thing, and he would find himself with a war on his hands. He doesn’t need that. Why should he? He is certain of gaining what he wants by peaceful means.”

  Edward tossed the chicken leg into the brush. “Unless your plan works and I can bring back this Mistress of Dragons, my father-in-law will march in to ‘protect us’ and the people will line his route, cheering. Why do you ask?”

  “Because we are being followed,” said Draconas.

  Edward stared, astonished. “The devil we are! Followed? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Edward frowned. “I told those young hotheads that I must do this alone—”

  “I don’t believe it is any of your knights. They would have raced after us and caught us up by now.”

  “Some fellow traveler then—”

  Draconas shook his head. “You yourself said even the bandits had fled for fear of the dragon. Whoever is following us is hanging back, keeping track of our movements, stopping when we stop, riding when we ride.”

  Edward peered down the road. “I’ve heard nothing, seen nothing.”

  “I have,” said Draconas.

  “But why?” Edward demanded. “Why would they follow us? Robbers would just attack. They wouldn’t risk discovery trailing after us.” He frowned, recalling Draconas’s questions. “You don’t think they’re ordinary footpads, do you?”

  Draconas regarded the king intently. Edward was either an exceptionally good dissembler or he honestly did not know why someone might want to send assassins after him.

  “No, Your Majesty, I don’t.” Draconas washed off the grease from the capon in the stream. “What is the lay of the land like ahead of us?”

  “Open, like this, for several more miles, then we enter a thick woods along the riverbank. After that, we cross the river and more open meadowland. This is sheep country—”

  “The woods, that’s what they’re waiting for,” said Draconas.

  Edward finished off his capon. He removed the ale skin from the water, uncorked it, swallowed deeply, and handed it to Draconas.

  “You think they’ll attack us once we’re in the woods.”

  “They haven’t attacked us yet. They’re waiting for something. Cover for their deed is the most obvious explanation.”

  “Why would they need cover? There’s no one around for miles and miles. No one except the dragon,” Edward added with a wry smile.

  Draconas had to admit that the king had a point. Why not attack them here and now? Why wait? They were two alone, only one of them carrying a sword, and there were five of them, all undoubtedly heavily armed.

  “And you’re certain they mean to kill us?” Edward asked.

  “I’m not certain of anything,” Draconas admitted.

  Edward shrugged. “I find it very puzzling.”

  He took another pull at the ale skin, squinted up at the heavens. “It’s noon or thereabouts. I believe I will take a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Ermintrude wasn’t thrilled at the idea of my making this journey. I’m afraid if I keep going, I’ll fall asleep in the saddle.”

  Draconas nodded. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Edward removed his sword, laid it beside him, and flung himself down on the ground beneath a tree. He pulled his hat over his eyes to block out the sun, relaxed, and gave a deep, contented sigh. “Wake me if we’re attacked,” he said, grinning.

  Draconas regarded the king with a frown. Assassins hot on his trail and he takes a nap, leaving me—a perfect stranger— to keep watch. Is he a dolt? I’m beginning to wonder if I picked the right man for the job.

  Leaving the slumbering king, Draconas walked out to the road. He saw nothing. He heard nothing, yet he felt their pursuers out there.

  Draconas returned and sat down beside the stream. Judging by his relaxed posture and even breathing, the king slept soundly. The horses flicked at flies with their tails and nibbled on the long grass. Draconas amused himself by using a chicken bone to catch crayfish. He found his mind going back to the matter of th
eir pursuers again and again, which meant that he wasn’t as sure of his assumptions as he tried to convince himself. He ended up throwing the bones and the crayfish into the stream in frustration and, in an irritable mood, he woke up the king, shaking him roughly.

  “Time to ride,” he said.

  Edward removed his hat, blinked up at Draconas, then squinted at the sun. “Already?” He yawned, sat up, stretched. “I didn’t wake up dead,” he added lightly. “Therefore I take it nothing happened while I was asleep.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” said Draconas, swinging himself up in the saddle. “I think I learned something.”

  “I know I did,” said Edward, mounting his horse.

  Draconas shifted restlessly in the saddle, ready to get started. “What was that?”

  “How to catch crayfish,” said Edward and, with a wink and a grin, he galloped off.

  He was testing me, Draconas realized. Six hundred years among humans, and they can still surprise me.

  They were deep in sheep country now and they should have seen the green hills dotted with the white flocks. The shepherds were keeping their sheep closer to home, now, for fear of the dragon, and the hillsides were bare, empty.

  Another hour’s riding, and the long grass and heather gave way to oaks and maples, linden trees and stands of white poplar, their leaves golden in the rich light of the sweltering sun.

  “I can hear them now,” Edward reported.

  “Yes,” said Draconas, who had been listening to the pounding of hooves for the past hour, as regular as a heartbeat. “They’re coming closer. And they don’t care if we know they’re back there.”

  Edward glanced up at the overhanging branches of the trees. “Gunderson says that if you know you’re going to fight, you should be the one to choose the ground. He was talking about armies, but I assume the same applies here.”

  “You have ridden this road often, so I leave that to you,” said Draconas, having now a much better opinion of the man he’d chosen. “Since they are five and we are two, we need to keep them in front of us. Otherwise they will try to circle around and attack us from all directions.”