Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  “I shouldn’t have been so open and given you so much latitude,” he murmured to his hands, which were holding onto the saddle-strap. “I see now that giving you that freedom has only given you desire. You were granted freedom, and now freedom is all you crave. Fia, a woman in this society should be submissive, gentle, meek.”

  Fia faced front abruptly. Those words cut her the way that no others ever had. “That is not the person I am,” she said. “You know that.”

  Her father exhaled loudly.

  And then he said something she would never forget.

  Her father said, in a heavy voice, “It was a mistake for me to have given you so much freedom. It used to give me great joy to see your accomplishments, for even though you are a girl, I had the same feeling of pride that I will have for my son, once he grows old enough. But now I will regret, to my dying day, that I let you grow into somebody you never should have been.”

  Chapter 5

  SHADOWS IN THE MIST

  The air froze in Fia’s lungs. He’d told her once he’d been proud of her. He’d been proud of her.

  What had happened to him to make him say something that cut so deeply?

  Babbi used to be open-minded, the way his people in the old country had been. That was why he let her rehabilitate Ryelleth. That was why he allowed Teita Anna, her grandmother, to teach Fia how to handle a sword and dagger. That was why he let Fia go into business for herself and earn a living in order to keep her dragon.

  But now this. Babbi must have been talking to the priest, or his prior friends, to be acting like this. Fia was sure of it.

  Tears suddenly stung her eyes. No, not here, not now. Later, when she was alone on dragonback, she could weep. But not now.

  Much to her relief, she saw the bustling dragon landing up ahead.

  “We’re almost there,” Fia said with a heavy heart.

  The dragon landing, or the gonfalone del drago, the district of the dragon, was an area about the size of a small neighborhood. Several other dragons were also approaching, coming in for a landing – an onyx dragon coming in low, an emerald dragon still way up high. A topaz dragon came winging its way up from the ground, slowly wheeling as it did, changing its bearing for Venezia.

  The dragoneers mainly served the rich people of the cities who wanted an easy and fast route from place to place. When the Church, in her wisdom, decided that the Bible approved of dragons, the rich merchants and rulers of Italia were finally allowed to use dragons to transport themselves and small goods. Of course, some people pointed out that the Pope had stocked his army with dragons as soon as he sent this edict down from Rome – but this was only whispered.

  Whatever drove the Pope’s decision, the wealthy were quite pleased about this. None of them wanted to trudge along on donkey back or horseback for endless leagues among crowds of stinking commoners. On dragonback, they could leave Fiorenza at lunchtime and reach Siena before mid-afternoon. On horseback it took a full day if they traveled from before dawn until after the sun set.

  Just then, Fia noticed something that made her lean forward, squinting.

  The weather had been clear during her whole flight. But now, up ahead, a thick fog gathered on the ground around the dragon landing. The place, usually a beehive of activity, was vanishing under a white haze that rolled across the earth toward her.

  To land in a fog, blindly, was a tricky prospect, especially with other dragons flying in and out. Ryelleth, too, turned her head from one side to the other, confused by the new terrain. Her wingbeats slowed. Fia leaned to the left to direct her to circle down.

  “There shouldn’t be any fog right now,” Fia murmured. The weather was too warm and dry for it. Fog was something you saw when the sun’s early rays struck cold, moist air in the morning.

  “What?” asked her papa behind her.

  “Something odd. Fog below,” she called over her shoulder. The top of the fog thickened below, hiding the ground.

  She felt her papa sit up slightly, then turn to the right as if daring to look over the dragon’s side. “How about that,” he said as if curious.

  Fia leaned forward. “Ryelleth. Be careful,” she warned.

  Ryelleth growled in response as the roof of the fog came up below them … and then they were in.

  Inside the fog, the sun dimmed. The cool air was welcome after the dry heat of the sun.

  But Fia stayed sitting forward, carefully watching the busy landing below. A topaz dragon that she recognized as belonging to a Trattorian was blundering up toward them.

  “Small fire,” Fia ordered with a smart tap on the scales of Ryelleth’s neck. The dragon responded instantly and spat a small flame, lighting up the fog and revealing their presence.

  The topaz dragon quickly backwinged, losing altitude. Michel, the Trattorian directing the dragon, called, “This accursed fog!” to Fia.

  “You scoundrel! Did you call down this fog?” she shouted across to him, merry.

  “I did not! I swear I did not!” he called laughingly, as he flew on up through the top of the fog and vanished.

  The dragon landing below, softened by the fog, was a bustling place full of dragons stretching their wings, various carts and horses driving their fares into the city, or bringing them to the landing for the ride out. Small fires burned before some of the landings, their smoke adding to the fog, and a blacksmith’s hammer was ringing in bell-like tones on some metal he was shaping. The blacksmith was a kindhearted soul, a regular Vulcan, a jolly man with brown hands blackened even darker with soot and scorch.

  Below a busy sound of voices talking, calling, several men singing—the Fida brothers often sang while waiting for a fare—the creaking of cart wheels on the dirt paths. She could see, though just barely through the fog, a horse challenging a sleeping dragon with a whinny, but the dragon lay resting on the ground, unmoving, ignoring it. All flashed below under Ryelleth as they glided toward her landing.

  Now Fia could see her small fire gleaming ahead where the stablers kept it burning in a small brazier, night and day, to help guide the various dragons to their particular landing. The top of the brazier was covered with a thick chunk of dragon-formed glass, made by dragons blasting a section of sand with fire. This was laid atop the brazier to so the fire could be protected from the rains, and it could also be seen from the skies by the incoming dragons.

  But though they glided rapidly in, the other dragons flashing past below Ryelleth’s dangling feet, the fog grew even thicker, hiding even their outlines as the air grew colder and turned a white-grey like a pearl.

  “It shouldn’t be foggy at all right now,” she murmured.

  Ryelleth came in gently, her wings trembling as she tilted them up, creating enough drag to slow them, while keeping the wing stable enough to keep them upright in the air.

  And now Ryelleth backwinged. Slowly, smoothly, the ground floated up through the fog, lit by the fire in the glass-covered brazier. A bump when Ryelleth’s hind legs met the ground, then her front feet. She took several steps forward as her airborne body adjusted to becoming an earthbound creature with weight again. With a sigh, Ryelleth brought her wings in with a storming sound like a ship’s sail rippling in a stiff gale. Then she sat down to let her passengers off.

  “Ah,” her papa sighed, as he always did, relieved to be on the ground again. “A gentle landing. Thank you.” He often complained how other dragons would come bounding to earth in such a way that he’d nearly throw up. Not Ryelleth.

  “Good arrival, Fia. How about this fog?” The old stabler, a wiry Bolognese woman named Aulina, came riding up on her old jenny donkey. She waved with her stump of an arm. Ages ago, a dragon, driven by someone who had no right handling dragons, had gone on a rampage, maddened and raging, and had bitten off her hand.

  “Hello, Aulina,” said Papa. “How’s your father doing?”

  “Oh, he’s in bad shape.” Aulina marked down their arrival and passengers on the list that she kept of all arrivals and departures. “If
he didn’t have us to take care of him, he’d be begging on the streets. Here, check this and sign.” Aulina’s mule obediently sidled up to Ryelleth’s side, and Aulina handed the small book to Fia, who made sure the information was correct and then wrote her signature below. Most of the dragon riders signed with an X; she was one of only a few who could write.

  That done, Aulina said “Ha!” to her mule, and she trotted quickly toward a new arrival who was winging into the fog behind her.

  Fia unbuckled herself and slid down. What he’d said about her landing still stung. “Papa, if you say I’m such a good dragonrider, why do I have to marry and lose … all this?” She pressed her top teeth into her lip to stop her words. Ryelleth reached her head around to muzzle Fia. She gently pushed her away. She couldn’t take any sympathy, not now.

  “It’s the way it’s supposed to be,” he said – not the answer he’d always given her in the past. Her father slid down off the dragon to the ground. Fia let Ryelleth drink, leaving the saddle and sheepskin alone. These she could take off at the end of the day.

  Ryelleth who was drinking deeply at the stone basin, snorted and raised her head, looking out across the landing.

  Fia followed her gaze, but saw only a topaz dragon, no more than a shadow in the fog, drifting down to its landing, vanishing in the mist. “Father, stop. This is my life,” she said. “It’s not the life I dreamed of, but it’s mine. Why can’t this be the way it’s supposed to be? What’s changed? Did some close-minded man talk to you and make you change your mind?”

  Her father shook his head and looked away.

  “Someone has been talking to you,” Fia said, her eyes going wide. “Who is it? Was it some gossipmonger at Mass? Some business associate reminding you how sinful it is for a woman to fly a dragon?”

  She was interrupted by the horse stabler walking up with a nice grey mare on a lead. “What kind of horse d’ya need to ride into Siena, sire?”

  “This grey horse will be fine,” her papa said, paying the young man.

  “Well, then. I need my payment, too,” Fia told her papa.

  He had been stroking the grey mare’s face, but now he turned and stared. “Fia. You’ve never asked me for a fare before.”

  “A gold florin,” she said. “It’s what I charge for all my fares. It’s what my work costs here.”

  He stared a moment longer. Then he opened his purse and gave her the florin. “I don’t understand why it’s so important for you to demand this money now.”

  “Because you don’t understand that my work is important. So now you pay, just like everybody else does.”

  He shook his head. “This is petty of you.”

  “Look. All those free trips I gave you come out of my time. Free trips won’t buy this pretty dragon any chickens to eat between fares so she can keep her energy up. I need to catch paying fares from now on, fares that respect the work I’m doing.”

  Her papa ran a hand over his hair. “If it’s that much trouble to you, then why not just give up this work? You certainly love to complain about something that’s so important to you.”

  Fia cried, “Isn’t it enough to you that you’re taking my dragon and making me live with a man who wants to whip me daily?”

  “He’s not whipping you daily!” Papa shouted. “He’s only threatening you.”

  “Oh, well thank goodness it’s only a threat! I feel so much better now! What the hell is wrong with you?” Fia screamed.

  She whirled to storm away –

  —and found herself face-to-face with a person dressed all in grey, who wore a gray veil over their face so that only the eyes showed – hard blue eyes that glared at her.

  Fia stopped in her tracks. “Are … you a fare?”

  Metal flashed in the man’s hand. A dagger!

  Which he promptly jammed into Fia’s side.

  “No!” She pulled back. She was wearing leather armor under her clothes, but the point of the dagger bruised her deeply.

  Fia reached for her own dagger, but before she could grip it, something thudded against the back of the head so hard that her teeth clacked.

  A moment later, she found herself lying stunned on the ground, a strange, rattled cry coming out of her mouth. And Ryelleth was standing over her with a gigantic roar, wings out, teeth gleaming, defending Fia.

  A short distance away, men in grey robes swirled around her papa where he lay unmoving on the ground.

  “Babbi!” Fia, her head whirling from being struck, struggled to get up. Ryelleth swiftly brought her nose under Fia and helped her to her feet – an old war dragon move, Fia realized gratefully, one that helped a fallen rider stand up. The leather armor she wore helped protect her from the heat of her dragon’s touch.

  One of the men in grey jammed a cloth into her struggling papa’s mouth.…

  “No!” Fia half-screamed, too bruised to draw breath….

  … and two men grabbed him under the arms and dragged him away.

  Fia unsheathed her sword and stumbled after them across the landing, her dragon keeping pace at her side like a gigantic hound.

  An assailant blindsided her. She turned barely in time to block his attack with her sword, but her arm was weak from the earlier dagger attack.

  Ryelleth struck at the man, swift as a snake, her huge teeth clashing a hair’s breadth from his face. The assailant sprang away from Fia with a shriek and raced screaming toward the men who were dragging her daddy away.

  Ryelleth roared and inhaled.

  “Hold, Ry! No fire! They have my father!” Fia grabbed the straps and hauled herself up on Ryelleth’s back. “Give chase!”

  Ryelleth hadn’t yet unfolded her wings, and so she went galumphing into the thick fog in pursuit of the men. Fia, who was now bouncing around in the saddle, frantically strapped herself in, shouting, “Fly, sweetie!” Dragons were great in the air, but on land they ran like little fat dogs.

  Out came her wings, and Ryelleth sprang into the air, her mouth open like a dog ready to play. Fia grabbed her bow off her back and quickly nocked an arrow on the string, waiting for the fog to reveal her target….

  The fog opened to reveal, directly ahead, a small green dragon waiting with open jaws. A green racer, and the kidnappers were dragging her daddy onto its back.

  Fia knew nearly all of the local ferry dragons by sight, as well as many of the dragons in the city’s army and the Pope’s army. This green racer dragon was not one she’d ever seen before.

  She shot three arrows at the dragon’s face, but it only shut its mailed eyes and closed its nostrils the way lizards do. Her arrows glanced off its armor. Fia swore.

  One of the men in grey commanded, “Fire, now!”

  The green racer jerked forward to blast fire directly at Ryelleth and Fia.

  Chapter 6

  “WHAT HAVE I DONE?”

  Ryelleth roared and reared up, taking the brunt of the flames against her chest – a war dragon maneuver done to protect their riders. Fia made herself as small as possible on Ryelleth’s back as blistering heat and deathly flames broke against Ry’s body as a wave breaks across the rocks.

  She held her breath to keep her lungs from being scorched by fire, and she shut her eyes tight, clinging to Ryelleth in fear. The flames went on and on until every part of her screamed with pain from the fire and the super-heated air.

  With a surge of power, Ryelleth winged up into the air, out of the flames, rising higher and higher.

  Now cool air surrounded Fia. She wheezed in air, immediately choking – but her goatskin gloves were burning. Shit. She smacked them out on the sides of her asbestos dress, wincing in pain. She’d been burned but there was no time to look at the damage.

  “I told you to spend a few coins on asbestos gloves,” Fia muttered to herself, seizing the forward strap. Her hands were shaking, but she leaned against Ryelleth’s neck, as her dragon was still rising. “Pursue,” she called, voice quavering, sliding her hand forward across Ry’s neck toward the green racer, a
directional signal.

  Ryelleth pitched herself directly at the green racer, which was rising swiftly out of the fogbank. But, to Fia’s astonishment, part of the fogbank rose into the air with the escaping dragon, partly shielding it from view.

  “No fog does that on its own,” Fia muttered. Clearly some evil magic was at work.

  As the green racer rose, Fia could glimpse two people on its back through the fog. One was the dragonrider. The second man was her father, wearing his red robes of state.

  “Daddy!” Fia shouted, though the deep bruise in her side hurt at her cry. “Ry, follow them! Don’t let them get away!”

  Ryelleth growled with determination and blazed after them in pursuit.

  The small green dragon clapped its wings and shot away so fast that Fia couldn’t help but gasp. The racers were bred to be light, powerful – and very, very fast.

  There was no way that Ryelleth, her big pudgy dragon, could keep up with that. She thought of how the only exercise her dragon got was in flying back and forth. But Fia leaned forward and cried, “Come on, Ry. Get that dragon!”

  Fia lifted her bow, but then swore. In any other scenario, she would have shot at the dragon. But her father on its back changed that. “Stay with them,” she called to Ry again. “Green racers are sprinters, but they can’t keep up that speed.”

  She hoped not, anyway.

  Fia leaned forward on Ryelleth’s neck like a jockey urging her horse on to a win. “Go, go go go,” she cried.

  Ryelleth’s head came down and her wings came down like thunder, and they were flying as they never had before. Fia’s fingers went white-knuckled on the forward strap because she had never gone this fast before in her life, and her eyes behind her streaming veil went wide. Ryelleth was keeping up with the green racers.

  Now she was slowly staring to gain on the racers. Don’t burst your heart, she wanted to shout to Ryelleth, but caught herself. Ryelleth had training so she would understand her limits better than Fia ever could. So she just hung on.

  “Get ‘em, my good girl,” she cried to Ryelleth on the freezing wind that buffeted her and smacked her veil against her cheeks and neck.