by Meg Cowley
“A Heart of Dragons. Find me one so I may yet live.”
A thrill chased through Dimitri. I was right! The prophecy may not be nonsence after all. He made to bow, but Saradon continued in a low growl.
“Find more, and I shall break the wheel.”
Dimitri bowed low. “I will make it so, Lord.”
The magic aided him, pushing him away, as Dimitri slid into the veils of the world again.
His heart hammered as he alighted in his own quarters. So normal, safe, and welcoming after the hot, raw power of the chamber.
I knew it. The Dragonheart is the key! There was no time to waste. I have to take it now.
Twenty-Eight
That night, when they stopped in a narrow valley by a stream, sheltering under a rocky overhang, the weather closed in. Harper was glad for the added shelter as the temperature rose and the clouds piled high.
The humidity was unbearable as the storms of autumn fought the summer into decline, and Harper made the most of the waterfall that plummeted off the overhang. Fully clothed, she walked into it, groaning with relief as the cool water engulfed her, washing away the dirt of the road and ridding the area of the uncomfortable mugginess for just a few minutes. As she returned to camp, dripping, she sank gratefully onto a rock, wriggling her toes as her aching feet pounded.
"Good idea." Brand stripped to his breeches and dived under the waterfall. Harper gawked at him. He was riddled with scars, some old, some decidedly less so. She had never seen someone so battle-worn before, yet every inch of him bulged with muscle and strength.
He's a fearsome warrior for certain.
"A wash is indeed a good idea!” Aedon said brightly, making to follow Brand. Ragnar grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
"Not so fast, laddie. I need some wood before this storm starts. Go on. Off you go."
Aedon groaned. "Make Erika do it!" Nevertheless, he lowered his vest and turned away. "Harper, want to help? I can show you the camp enchantments at the same time."
"Yes!” She scrambled to her feet and followed him, pushing all thoughts of what he would look like under the waterfall from her head.
Aedon and Harper gathered pieces of wood, twigs, and suitable kindling in short order, then returned to the outskirts of camp. Aedon paused.
"Dump your wood here. We’ll come back for it."
Harper emptied her armful on top of his and followed him as he strolled around the camp’s perimeter.
"Take my hand. You'll feel it then."
Harper laced her fingers through his. He spoke in a low voice, setting off at a leisurely pace once more. His lilting voice rose and fell, repeating the same snatch of words, but Harper could not catch them. They were birdsong upon the wind, their undulating syllables there and gone in an instant.
Harper revelled in the feeling of magic flooding her body, radiating out from him in pulsing waves. Her senses changed, as though the outside world muffled, then sharpened, repeatedly peaking and diminishing until they had walked around the entire camp, hopped over the stream, and were back where they had started.
"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly, heady on the energy tingling throughout her, slowly fading.
"I made us safe. That will keep us unheard, unseen, secret until we leave tomorrow."
She felt the heat of his body. "Will I be able to do that?” she asked, as much to distract herself as to sate her curiosity.
"Yes. When your magic is strong enough, that will be an easy one for you.” He smiled, and she noticed he did not look tired at all, though she imagined that magic might take a lot of energy. He lingered close to her, his gaze dipping to her mouth for a fleeting second before he retreated, slipping his fingers from hers after a squeeze so small she was not sure whether she had imagined it.
“Come. Tell me of your life,” he said in a light voice. “What is it like to dwell in Caledan, the land of no magic?”
“Hmph. Hardly as interesting as your escapades.”
“Oh, I suspect that isn’t true.” He grinned, his merry, twinkling eyes fixed upon her. She looked away, pushing down the flutter in her stomach.
“There’s not much to tell.” She recounted her unkown origins, her life in recent years with Betta, the crone, but kept the years before that she never spoke of to anyone to herself. No one would want to hear of the young waif who survived on scraps of charity and waste. She did not like to often think of it herself.
Aedon was silent for a moment once she finished. “Well, then, I suppose our company is much more pleasant and thrilling.”
“It wouldn’t take much,” she muttered darky. For a moment, she was back in the dingy, stinking inn with its undesirable patrons.
He laughed at her scowl, clapped her on the shoulder, and jogged ahead. She scrambled after him.
"LET ME HELP YOU WITH that," Brand said to Harper as she nearly tripped over a rock, stumbling. He rose from where he had been playing chatura with Ragnar.
"I'm all right. I've got it." She dodged out of his way and dumped the wood on the rocky shelf by Ragnar. "Is that enough?"
"That'll do." He did not lift his eyes from the board, absorbed in the game of strategy.
Aedon stepped forward to light the fire. In a moment, it burned merrily, just as the air cooled around them and the heavens opened.
They huddled under the overhang, out of the driving rain, glad for the fire, though there was no meat to go on it that night and they had to make do with more jerky and some sour fruit Ragnar had found that day.
Separated from all of them, Erika sat as immobile as a statue with her back to the rock. Harper could not help but wonder what had happened to make her such an inhospitable character.
THE RAIN STOPPED BEFORE darkness fell, taking the humidity with it. Harper watched the stream run by before them, lost in the babble. She startled as a shadow fell over her.
Erika stood before her, holding out one of her blades. "I'm cold and stiff. We can start your practise now."
Harper scrambled to her feet and took the blade. Her arm fell involuntarily, just as it had the last time, unused to the weight.
"Hold your blade upright," said Erika, irritation biting in her voice. "And watch your feet. Stand with them farther apart, one slightly behind the other. Your balance will be better."
She darted forward to slap Harper on her thigh with the flat of a blade.
"Ow!" said Harper. "I wasn't ready."
"Always be ready. And move your feet. Don’t stand still."
She darted forward again. Harper dodged backwards, but not quickly enough, and she grimaced as her heel jarred against an errant tree root. Her feet felt like bricks, her legs wooden. Erika rapped her again. It smarted.
"Try and attack me. Maybe your attack is stronger than your defence."
She reddened. Erika thought her defence was bad enough, and it was clear she did not think her attack would be much stronger. Harper dashed forward, her arm sailing through the air, but travelling a different path than she intended with the weight of the blade. Erika easily knocked it aside.
She turned and gave Aedon a look that said, Really?
"We all have to start somewhere," Aedon murmured.
Erika huffed. "This is going to take a lot of work." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb. "Right. We'll go again. Perhaps this might help. Think of a fight much like a dance. You dance with your opponent back and forth, teasing them, pushing them, leading them on.”
"I can't dance," mumbled Harper.
"Of course you can't," said Erika through gritted teeth.
Erika demonstrated maneuvers with Brand, moving with exaggerated slowness. Each time, Harper had to copy them against Erika, movement perfect. Even that felt like too much. Every movement was so alien to her. Muscles she did not even know she had were forced into action and complained thrice as hard for it, until she trembled with tiredness.
This is awful.
The grand tales made it sound so gl
amorous. Reality was far from it. Swordplay was intolerable. It was hard, loud, and impossible. Harper's patience had worn out, and it seemed so had Erika's.
"I think we're done for today. If you remember half of that, well...you might not get killed immediately."
Great.
"One final thing. Stand just like that with your feet in... Yes, that position. Hold your blade out, as if you're facing off an attack. Stay there."
"Until when?"
"Until darkness has fallen and you can see the stars above you."
Harper gaped at her. "Why?"
Irritation flashed across Erika's face. "Because I say so, and discipline is important."
Harper didn't drop her gaze.
"Because you need to grow your strength. You need to be able to hold your blade and wield it for long periods of time. You're already tired. You have no stamina, so you must build it." She slapped the underside of Harper's arm with the flat of her blade. "See? You're drooping already. Stand up straight."
With a low growl, Erika turned and stalked to Brand. "I can't take this," she hissed.
Brand stared at her flatly.
"I don't deal with novices."
"Patience.” His voice was low and soothing, but Erika scowled all the same. "I know this isn't easy for you. I'll take over from here."
"I can do it," Erika snapped.
"But it's better if you don't. I insist." His tone brooked no argument.
Harper's cheeks burned as she returned her gaze to the woods. Did she mean me to hear that? Aedon's comments about good teachers sprang to mind. Erika did not seem like a good teacher at all, but Harper sensed there was more to her than met the eye. I am trying. What's her problem?
Harper straightened and forced her complaining arm to rise again, though the muscles already ached fiercely. As the sunlight faded and the moon rose, Erika stood there, watching her. She stayed silent, only moving to slap Harper's arm or tap her back to indicate she was faltering once more.
When she finally allowed her to relax, Harper shook visibly with tiredness, but Erika offered no sympathy. She was too tired to curse her, but her eyes pricked with tears, overwhelmed in her exhaustion by fears that assailed her mercilessly, taunting her about how useless and out of place she was. Harper gave Erika her blade and stumbled back to camp, collapsing onto her cloak, ignoring Ragnar’s offer of a seat at his game of chatura with Aedon as she fell fast asleep.
Twenty-Nine
Harper woke early the next morning. Though exhausted, she could not return to sleep again. Erika's scathing tones burned in her mind as she tossed and turned, eventually giving up. She rose silently, glancing around camp. Brand was also awake, gazing into the woods.
"I'm going to wash," she whispered.
He held up his hand to stop her. She paused. He drew out a knife from within the folds of his cloak, though it looked more like a dagger to her, so huge was it.
"Never go anywhere unarmed, just in case. Be on guard."
She took it, her hand barely fitting around the wide grip that was formed for his big, broad hands. "Thanks."
The ground was still wet from the previous night’s storm, though the sun had risen, already creating a warmer, more pleasant, day. Harper looked at her feet, focusing on not slipping on the moss- and mud-covered rocks as she rounded the outcrop. She followed the stream far enough that she would not be seen or overheard from camp.
Clambering down to the stream, she unclipped her cloak, resting it and the dagger atop a high rock, stripped to her undergarments, and gave herself a brisk wash in the cool water using a chunk of moss. It felt refreshing to wipe the visible layer of sweat and grime from her skin.
"What I'd give for a hot wash," she murmured, laughing dryly. Had she ever gone so long without a proper wash? Definitely not. No matter how poor she had been, water was free and wood plentiful. A hot bucket had been her treat after an unbearable shift or long hunt. It did not bear thinking about.
When we get to this village, or the royal city, I will have one.
She clambered from the water and found a rock that caught the early morning sun. She perched upon it and closed her eyes, soaking in the light and warmth as it dried her skin. Before too long, she was almost dry, so she hastened to put on the billowing shirt, just in case anyone else should have awakened and followed her. As she bent to pull on her breeches, metal skittered on a rock behind her.
Harper spun round, nearly falling on the uneven rocks, glaring up at the bluff and squinting into the sun, seeing two silhouettes. They leapt down with inhuman agility. She gasped when they left the sun's piercing corona. They were elves, and they did not look friendly.
Both were armed and dressed in slim-fitting dark clothes, which Harper instinctively knew were hunting clothes. Their long, mahogany hair was pulled back in braids, their golden eyes narrow and hostile – yet held an edge of wariness, as though they expected her to be trouble.
"Where is it?" the taller, female elf snarled. She stalked closer, a long, slim blade pointed directly toward Harper. Harper inched back, bumping into the rock where her cloak lay. With her hand behind her back, she fumbled around, trying to find the knife.
The elf's male companion, armed with a bow – which was drawn, an arrow nocked and pointed toward her heart – circled away from them both. Harper was no expert, but she knew he was trying to cut her off from escape, trap her.
"Where's what?" she asked, turning slightly to try and keep an eye on both of them at once.
"You know what," the male elf answered. "We've tracked you this far. We know you to be with the thief and his pack. Where is the aleilah?"
“I don't know what you're talking about," Harper said guardedly, but her heart thundered and her nerves shot with lightning. Do they mean the Dragonheart? "I'm an innocent traveller."
"Ha!" the female elf scoffed. "No one who runs with the Thief of Pelenor be innocent, but I shall give you a choice. Where is the elf, or the aleilah?" she said, leaping across the stream to land feet away from Harper.
Harper backed against the cliff, cursing silently. Nowhere to go.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I was travelling with them. I take no part in their affairs."
"Was?" the male cocked his head.
His sister scowled. "She lies. You're still with them. Their trail does not leave this area. I know they're close, can taste it. I will not be denied him now. I owe him thanks for the merry little chase he's led us on, and for the damage he caused our beloved Tir-na-Alathea."
With an icy rush, Harper realised who they were, just from the snippets Aedon had told her. These are the elves who held the antidote. The ones Aedon stole from.
"If you won't tell me voluntarily, I'll draw it from you!” The female elf thrust a clawed hand toward Harper. Brand's knife was ripped from her hands, as if by an invisible being, and sailed spinning through the air to land far from her reach. Before she could react, the elf's attention returned to her, and pain shot through her like lightning.
Harper screamed, unable to hold it in. It was like nothing she had felt before. Unbearable, like what she imagined a severe burn to feel like, only a thousand times worse. A moment later, it passed. She slumped to the ground as all strength in her body left with it.
"Tell us where the thief is." The she-elf advanced.
Harper bared her teeth. If they thought I wasn’t going to tell them before, that was no way to persuade me. "Go to hell!"
As the next wave of pain hit her, she tensed, screeching through gritted teeth as it wracked her body with great shudders, as though the power made her limbs involuntarily dance.
"Tell me!" the she-elf screeched.
Her companion took over. Using invisible hands of magic, he lifted Harper from the ground and slammed her against the wall of rock, which stabbed her through the thin overshirt. All the breath was knocked from her body and she gasped, trying to draw in air.
He loomed over her, casting his bow aside. One strong hand li
fted her up by the neck with ease and shoved her into the rough rocks of the cliff face, whilst the other pressed the gleaming, sharp point of an arrow into her neck.
"I suggest you tell my sister what she wishes to know," he said in a low, even voice. His eyes captivated hers. They were liquid amber, but somehow cold, entirely devoid of emotion. "It will not go well for you if you resist."
Harper spat into his face. He quickly masked the flicker of anger, but she saw it. Despite her pain, a smugness rose. "I can't tell you what I don't know," she said, enunciating every word with the small amount of breath she had.
"Enough! Get out of the way!" His sister bodily pushed him aside and stood before Harper, her blade raised.
Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Unh!" she grunted in surprise, looking down at the arrowhead protruding from her collarbone.
The two elves whirled around. As Harper slumped to the ground, fading in and out of consciousness, she spied familiar silhouettes standing on the other side of the stream. Relief flooded her.
A roar she barely recognised, far fiercer than any she had ever heard, washed over her as Brand’s huge form launched across the stream and crashed into the she-elf, who went down screeching. Aedon, Ragnar, and Erika targeted her companion. Aedon fired arrows at the elf, who leapt out of the way, though not fast enough to avoid Erika’s form barreling into him and crashing into the cliff face.
Ragnar rushed to her aid, easily picked her up, his stout form belying his surprising strength, and carried her away. Behind her, she heard the screams of the she-elf, who dashed into the forest with rivulets of blood pouring from her as Erika gave furious chase. The male elf was lost in a clash of metal as he engaged with Brand, and she presumed Aedon. Ragnar rushed her back to camp, setting her down by the fire gently.
"Harper, can you hear me?" His voice faded in and out. "Harper?"
It hurt too much. Her eyes closed as she sighed, and everything faded into blackness.
