by JA Andrews
Alaric sank back on his heels, his stomach dropping. His arms were like rocks in his lap, and he had barely affected the dragon. The trees Alaric had protected were smoking, but one more pass would light them like torches.
The dragon roared high above them.
Ayda came over to Alaric. It took most of his strength to lift his head and look up at her.
“I thought you’d do better than that,” she said, looking a little disappointed. “You didn’t do much better than the wizard.”
Alaric stared after her, unable to move as she stalked toward the grass where Gustav had disappeared.
“You stupid elf!” Douglon shouted, watching Ayda walk toward her destruction. “It’s a dragon! Get back here!”
Ayda ignored him and kept walking. With one last look at the sky, the dwarf rushed after Ayda spewing curses.
Ayda shot him a furious glance and flicked her hand at him.
The dwarf jerked to a stop. Thin roots had snaked up out of the ground and wrapped around his feet, growing and hardening over his boots. He shouted at Ayda, waving his axe wildly and tugging with all his might at his stationary feet. He took his axe and chopped at the edges of the roots. For every root he cut through, another slithered out of the ground.
Ayda continued walking into the open grass. Brandson began to run after her, but at another dangerous look from the elf, he stopped and backed up next to Milly.
The dragon’s roar came closer, and the sky lit again. On Alaric’s chest, a flash of light reflected off the flame that Ayda had frozen for him.
Maybe the elf standing in the center of the charred circle of grass wasn’t so vulnerable.
But then the dragon appeared, impossibly huge and fast. The rush of wings grew louder, and the world glowed red. Milly screamed and hid her face in Brandson’s shoulder as the dragon hurtled toward Ayda.
Alaric couldn’t pull his gaze away. With the dragon bearing down on her, Ayda was nothing more than a golden wisp in the moonlight.
Ayda waited, looking up at the descending monster, watching until it was so close that the flames were inches from her face. With a wave of her hand, she cast the flames away, solidifying them and sending them splintering into countless pieces. They landed on the ground near Alaric’s feet with the ringing of a thousand tiny bells. The grass was covered with glinting shards of deep red.
Enormous jaws crushed the end of the flame, which had solidified while still in the dragon’s mouth, and the creature shot back into the sky.
Ayda looked pleased at the pile of hardened flames. “That was pretty.” She crinkled her brow. “I think I’ll make the next set blue. There’s much too much red over there now, don’t you think, Milly?”
Milly, staring with her mouth wide open, said nothing.
“Yes, blue.” Ayda turned to see the dragon approaching again.
This time, the beast dove near to the ground farther up the valley and raced toward her. With its blood-red belly skimming the grass, it waited until it was right on her before spewing out flames. Another wave of her hand diverted the flame, this time, turning it a brilliant blue as it hardened.
Milly screamed as the dragon bore down on Ayda. But the elf, with an exasperated flip of her hand, sent the dragon tumbling over her as though it had caught a clawed toe on a rock. The dragon plunged to the ground behind her, crashing down on its back. The valley shook, and Alaric ducked, shielding his head from the branches and pinecones that rained down on him.
In a breath, the dragon twisted back to its feet. Crouched with its chin brushing the ground, the beast let out a low, vicious hiss.
Ayda cocked her head to one side.
“You’re not going to try the fire again, are you?” she asked.
The dragon flared its nostrils but did nothing. It seemed to be contemplating the same question. Alaric slowly let out his breath, but drew it in again when Ayda walked toward the beast as though he were an angry house cat who needed soothing.
“Sir Dragon,” she began, “if I may call you that since I don’t know your proper name. I’m afraid that you have attacked a group that would have been better left alone.”
The dragon stared at her with a mixture of hatred and confusion.
“We realize that you are a truly terrifying beast and that there are few who would dare to stand against a beast such as you, but we are among those few.” She had reached the dragon now. Although the dragon’s chin was on the ground, the top of its nose was shoulder height to the elf.
“It’s not just me,” she continued. “There’s a fearsome dwarf warrior in those trees.” The dragon flicked its eyes toward the trees. Douglon, who had been slouched in shock, his feet still frozen, straightened himself up and gripped his axe.
“There’s a young blacksmith who is quite strong and equally determined.” Brandson stood taller. “And there’s a milkmaid with a frying pan. Between you and me, I don’t think she was planning to cook over dragon fire.” Milly hid the pan behind her back.
“And, if you had gotten by all of us, there is still a magic worker in those trees who I had assumed was fairly adept.” She cast a critical look at Alaric.
Alaric felt Douglon, Brandson, and Milly look at him as well. The dragon turned intelligent eyes toward Alaric for a long moment.
Ayda stretched her hand out to touch the dragon’s snout, but its eyes whipped back toward her and narrowed. A loud, threatening growl rumbled deep in its chest.
Ayda paused. Douglon made a strangled noise.
Alaric’s heart was in his throat, waiting for the jaws to open and Ayda to disappear.
She dropped her hand back down, and the dragon’s nose inched forward. Its head lashed forward, and it snapped its teeth. Ayda jerked back, crying out and grabbing her arm. Blood seeped through her fingers.
“A little help?” Ayda said, bracing herself as the dragon’s snout drew closer again.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alaric hissed at her.
The dragon growled again, vibrating the ground. The breath from its nostrils swirled Ayda’s hair. The dragon’s eyes lit for a moment, watching the golden sparkles from her hair.
Distract it. Right. Dragons liked sparkly things.
Alaric pulled some energy in from the trees near him again and, ignoring the fact that his hands were still throbbing, began to pour energy into the air behind Ayda’s feet. The air warmed and rose, lifting strands of her hair with it. More and more locks lifted and swirled around her head. In the middle of the moonlit grass, she looked like she was surrounded by sparks.
The dragon’s eyes glazed slightly.
Alaric crept forward, feeding energy slowly into the air and gathering more at the same time until he thought he would burst with the pressure of it. When he was right next to the dragon’s neck, he stopped feeding the air near Ayda and braced himself.
This was going to hurt.
The dragon blinked as Ayda’s hair stilled. Alaric pushed both hands onto the dragon’s scales at the base of its neck.
The dragon twisted and lashed out at Alaric, his claw tearing through Alaric’s shoulder. Pain ripped across Alaric’s arm. He dove to the side while Ayda yelled, drawing the dragon’s attention back to her. Alaric scrambled back close to it and slammed his palms against the dragon’s neck.
“Paxa!” Energy surged out through his palms, searing his skin as it poured into the dragon.
The dragon’s entire body relaxed.
Alaric dropped to his knees and fell forward. Blisters formed on his palms, and his arms ached too much to move. Blood was running down his left arm from his shoulder. His head swam, and it took him a moment to realize he was leaning on the dragon’s neck.
He used his elbows to push himself off the monster. Brandson, Milly, and Douglon were staring at him in amazement.
Ayda let out a whoosh of air. “That’s better,” she said, her voice quavering slightly. She reached out to touch the dragon’s snout, but wrinkled her nose when she saw the blood on her hand. She w
iped it off on her dress, leaving a dark stain, then set her hand on the dragon’s nose.
Its eyes softened, and it made a sound less like a growl than a purr.
“Yes, I like you, too,” she said kindly. “But it’s time you were going. I’m afraid that we can’t all share this valley and since we have some business here…”
Brandson cleared his throat.
“Oh, right,” Ayda said. “We would appreciate it if you would leave the next valley alone also. It is our home, of sorts.” With a final pat of the dragon’s nose, she turned away.
The dragon blinked at her.
“By the way, what is your name?” she asked, turning back to it. She paused, her head cocked. “Anguine? Well it was lovely to meet you, Anguine. You are a very fierce dragon. I did think the old man you ate would have caused you a bit more trouble,” she said with a crinkled brow. “I guess he wasn’t too calm under pressure.” The dragon shifted, and Ayda fixed it with a piercing gaze. “I see,” she said. “Well, off with you.”
Turning her back to the dragon, she walked back to the others. The dragon shook its head once. The clawed foot near Alaric flexed, and he scrambled back away from it. With one final confused look at the departing elf, it vaulted itself into the sky and disappeared northward toward the mountains.
Chapter Fifteen
Alaric sank back against the nearest tree trunk and watched the red glint of the dragon disappear over the mountains. At least it had flown west toward the Roven Sweep and not south into the heart of Queensland. Although the nomads on the Sweep were going to have a tough time dealing with it.
The gash in his shoulder burned, and his arms hung down on his lap, aching. He gingerly turned over his palms and saw a circle of blisters on each, shiny and taut in the moonlight. He rested his head back on the tree trunk and closed his eyes.
His mind churned up questions he was too exhausted to consider. A dragon? Here? Where had it come from? Paxa had worked on it—had anyone ever tried that before? Had a Keeper ever touched a dragon before? And survived? He’d have to send the Shield a letter. Alaric closed his fingers slightly, but the blisters shot searing pains across his palms. Writing a letter might have to wait.
“Ayda?” Milly’s voice sounded far away and weak. “Is it gone?”
Alaric heard someone rekindle the fire and realized he was shivering. Part of the pain in his fingers, he realized, was because they were ice cold. The active part of his brain pointed out that was to be expected after pushing so much energy out of them. The exhausted part told it to shut up. He heaved himself forward and using his elbows, managed to get to his knees. The fire flickered through the trees, an impossible distance away.
Then Brandson was there, tugging Alaric to his feet and half leading, half dragging him to the fire. Alaric sank down close to it.
Milly stepped over to him and, with a wary look, handed him a piece of bread. He smiled gratefully at her. The smile she gave back was strained. He tore off a piece of bread that seemed to weigh as much as a boulder. One bite at a time, he ate, waiting for his strength to return.
Alaric could feel blood dripping down his arm. In his pack was tucked a salve that would help. It would help with the burns, too. He eyed his bag all the way across the campsite, another impossible distance.
Ayda would need some, too. He glanced at her, but her arm looked clean and whole. Her dress was spotless and white.
“That was amazing,” Milly said in a hushed voice, glancing from Ayda to Alaric.
Ayda beamed at her. “Thank you. It’s been some time since I’ve seen a dragon, but they are all the same. Always attacking with fire and teeth.”
“They really should attack with something dangerous,” Douglon said.
Ayda laughed a silvery laugh. “Exactly. And I am sorry about the whole tied to the ground thing,” she said, motioning to the tree that Douglon had been stuck under. “But I’m afraid you would have been less handsome if that dragon had singed off your beard.”
Douglon muttered something and stroked his beard, running his hand over the flowers Ayda had stuck in earlier. He brushed them out in disgust. “I guess we owe you our lives,” he said grudgingly.
“You’re welcome,” she beamed at him.
Milly studied Ayda for a moment. “I’ve never heard of anyone who could do what you just did with the fire.”
“Everybody has the same magic,” Ayda said. She gestured at Alaric. “He could have done the same thing.”
All eyes turned to Alaric, and a heavy silence filled the trees.
“So you’re just a royal historian?” Douglon said.
Alaric started to shrug, but the shooting pain in his shoulder stopped him with a gasp. “That’s part of my job.”
Douglon scowled and the others waited.
Alaric sighed. “I’m a Keeper.” The title didn’t feel completely false.
Brandson and Milly gasped.
Douglon’s scowl deepened. “Didn’t it occur to you to mention that?”
“It’s not something we announce,” Alaric said.
“You’re after the gem, aren’t you?” demanded Douglon. “You were going to steal it.”
“Douglon!” Brandson said. “Alaric’s a Keeper! He wouldn’t do such a thing!”
The title didn’t feel completely true, either.
“Yes, he seems very noble,” Douglon said.
Alaric sighed. Turned out having his secret revealed wasn’t much of a relief after all.
“You, of all people, can’t be upset at someone keeping his personal history to himself,” Ayda said to the dwarf.
“It’s all right,” Alaric said. “He has a right to be angry. I should have told you sooner.”
“Is Ayda telling the truth?” asked Milly. “Could you have done that with the dragon fire?”
Maybe. If he had a thousand years. And a thousand Keepers.
“I don’t know,” Alaric said after a short hesitation. “Certainly not with as much style.”
“Why did you join up with us in the first place?” Douglon demanded.
“I was interested in your group because you lived in Kordan’s Blight, and I was looking for information about Kordan. He was a Keeper.”
“He was?” Milly asked. “The stories of him aren’t very… Keeper-like.”
“Maybe you people don’t know what Keepers are like,” Douglon pointed out.
“Neither Kordan nor I are model Keepers,” Alaric admitted. “But Kordan started out as one. He did leave the Keepers after he lived here, though.”
“How did you know we were looking for Kordan’s gem?” Douglon asked.
“I didn’t.”
“You expect us to believe you just happened to come across a group looking for a treasure you’re also looking for?”
Alaric shook his head. “I know. The chances of that are… nonexistent. But I had no idea who any of you were or what you were looking for. I have no explanation.”
Douglon gave him an incredulous look.
Alaric’s hands were throbbing, but the bread was starting to help. “I will offer you what I promised for the gem.”
“Why so generous?” asked Douglon.
Alaric hesitated, but there was nothing to be gained from secrecy. “Because the gem we are looking for is that valuable to me. To all the Keepers. I believe what we are going to find is called a Wellstone. To you, it is a treasure, and a treasure is worth money. To me, it is an artifact to be studied.”
Douglon harrumphed and turned his scowl toward the elf. “What did you do to the dragon?”
“I befriended it,” Ayda answered.
There was silence for a long moment.
Ayda shrugged and gave a small, self-conscious smile. “Everyone likes me, if they just get close enough.”
Douglon snorted, but the words had the ring of truth in them. Everyone did like Ayda. Even Alaric liked Ayda, despite, well, despite everything.
“Do you think the dragon will return tonight?” Milly asked A
yda.
“Oh, no. He agreed to stay away as long as we are in the valley.” The elf scrunched up her nose. “I suppose I didn’t tell him to leave us alone after we left, but I don’t think he’d try again.”
Alaric reached for a skin of water, but the tear in his shoulder sent a lance of pain down his arm and he groaned.
“Alaric,” Milly said, rushing over, “I forgot you were hurt.”
She worked the ripped fabric away from his shoulder and cringed. The cut was deep and ragged.
Ayda stepped over and glanced at it. “That’s not too bad.”
“It feels bad,” Alaric said.
Ayda reached past Milly and pushed her hand against the wound. Pain knifed through his shoulder and he gasped. But a warmth flowed out of Ayda’s hand along with a tightening sensation, and the wound knit itself back together. In a moment, the pain was gone, and Ayda stepped back, smiling. There was nothing on his shoulder but a white scar and a lot of leftover blood.
Alaric rotated his arm gingerly. There was no pain at all. He looked up into Ayda’s face, stunned. How had she done that? It took the body days, weeks to heal a wound like that. The amount of energy expended was enormous. Yet Ayda had done it effortlessly.
“We do not have the same magic,” he said.
Her face darkened, and an odd look crept into her eyes.
“Yes, we do. Just in different amounts.” She caught sight of Alaric’s palms and frowned, “Those I can’t do much with. A cut just needs to be cleaned out and pulled back together. But a burn is different. I could heal them, but it will leave terrible scars. Scars you might not want on your hands.”
Alaric had met a man once with a burned hand. The scarred skin didn’t stretch right, he couldn’t grip anything well. Alaric thought of not being able to hold a pen. “I’ll just wait for them to heal.”
“I can do something about the pain, though,” Ayda said. She set her hands on Alaric’s palms. Her fingers felt cool against his flaming skin. A numbness spread across his hands, and the pain receded. He let out a sigh of relief.
