“We tend to hide in plain sight. It's been our way since the witch trials a few centuries ago, when we took oaths of secrecy but couldn't give up our call to use our power to help others.”
“You speak as if you were there. How old are you, really?” He tilted his head, studying her more closely.
She laughed in spite of herself. “That is our history as it was passed down from my mentor. And it's horribly gauche to ask a lady her age. You being such a well-spoken gentleman, you should know that.”
He sat back on his haunches and his eyes went wide. Then a huffing sound escaped him, something that might have been a laugh of his own, and the corners of his mouth even contrived to look a little friendlier. “That might be so, good Frau, but I never learned the intricacies of human customs.”
“Yet you speak a human language,” she pointed out. And you have a sense of humor, however unlikely that might be to find in a monster hidden in a mountain cave, her mind added.
“I spent time in a city of humans and learned to speak by listening to them,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I was not so large as I am now,” he said, raising a foreleg and looking at it in a manner Frau Beck might have said was rueful.
“I didn't think I'd heard of anyone parading a giant lizard around as a sideshow,” she said thoughtfully. “You'd certainly have made a splash. Unless that was long ago. How old are you?”
“So it is permitted to ask a gentleman his age, but not a lady?” he countered.
This time she really did laugh, taken aback by the rejoinder. “A fair point. Very well, I'll go first. I am thirty-nine years of age.”
He nodded, as if she'd confirmed something. “I have seen thirty-six summers. And I was never confined by humans. When I was younger, I could have fit on your shoulder, and it is much easier to hide at that size.”
Frau Beck glanced involuntarily at one shoulder. “Yes, it would be. If I can ask, did you grow steadily, or was it all at once?”
“Why do you want to know?” He cocked his head and gave her a good, hard stare with one eye, suspicion returning.
“If someone had asked me yesterday, I probably would have said I had never heard of a lindworm, and if they had told me I would nearly get my head taken off by one today I would have laughed myself sick. I have often been accused of being too curious for my own good. Or perhaps the better terms are 'nosy and interfering.'” She shrugged.
“You certainly don't spare yourself. I've never met a human like you before.”
“I've heard that, too,” Frau Beck chuckled. “But very well, you don't have to answer any of my questions if you don't want to. You can remain coy and mysterious, and my curiosity will remain unsatisfied. If you'll just let me fetch my pack from over there, I'll be on my way. And can be assured I'll keep my promise not to tell anyone about seeing you.” She twiddled her fingers, miming casting a spell.
“I—very well.” If he were human, she might have said he sounded taken aback. But his evasion had reminded her that despite her thousands of questions, she had just intruded on his very isolated home and his suspicion was warranted. They were complete strangers, and he could certainly change his mind about killing her if she annoyed him. It wasn't as if she could stop him, surprisingly polite as he seemed now that he was not in a roaring rage.
To that end, she executed a rough curtsey, only a slight hint of sarcasm to the gesture, and went to get her pack from where she had left it before entering the cave. It was fortunate she had not been forced to abandon it or getting back to Brig would have been supremely difficult.
After shouldering the pack, she looked back at the lindworm. He was still watching her, though his suspicious stance had softened and if she had to guess she would have said he was now merely curious himself.
“It was lovely to meet you.” She smiled her biggest smile. “Thank you very much for letting me go with my life.”
And before he could reply she set off, once again skirting the pine grove in favor of sticking near the edge of the valley. The lindworm didn't respond, nor did he follow, though she could feel his eyes on her back as long as she was still in view of the cave.
All the way back to Brig, which took about eight total hours now that she was no longer wandering hither and yon looking into every crevice for herbs, she replayed the encounter again and again in her mind. Once night fell, she slept in a sheltered outcropping and came back into sight of Brig at about midmorning. She was so distracted that she almost forgot about her promise to Kristina, but remembered with enough time to detour to a small, sheltered meadow where she knew wild strawberries would be just ripe. An apronful of berries picked and delivered later—of which Kristina insisted on taking only half—Frau Beck was walking back up her street to her flat right at about lunchtime.
In sorting through her gleanings, she realized that she hadn't picked nearly enough hepatica, which was essential in the treatment of an ailing liver—there were one or two people in town who regularly bought blends made with it, and she needed a good, fresh supply.
Normally she would have groaned aloud at this oversight, and started mental calculations to see if she could do without until it was worthwhile in another few weeks to make another long trip into the mountains. But now she just grinned. It was as if the back of her mind had handed her a ready-made excuse to return quickly.
She spent the next three days preparing and hanging all of her finds that needed to be dried, and making poultices, salves and other concoctions from the things that needed to be worked with fresh. She also visited her regular patients, and checked on a few expectant mothers who had asked for her care. Fortunately no one was due to deliver soon, and the town did have a few doctors if something unexpected happened while she was away. Much as she wanted to turn around and go back to that valley to confirm once and for all she hadn't dreamed the entire meeting with the lindworm, her first responsibility was to the people who depended on her in Brig.
As promised, she told no one about what she had seen. Not that anyone asked; while people were friendly in a general way, Frau Beck was still new enough not to have created deep ties and in any case she tended to keep to herself as a habit. She even checked on Hans and was pleased to see how well his ankle was mending.
On the fourth day, she readied herself for another trip into the mountains. She did note that she was quite low on her mixture meant to chase away predators; it seemed that in her haste while fleeing the lindworm's jaws she had spilled much of it back in the cave. But the plants needed for it were readily found along her route and she could replenish them while out.
This time, she decided to make herself invisible when she passed through town just to be sure no one would find it suspicious that she was going out on a long trip again so soon after returning. The last thing she wanted was questions, since she doubted very much anyone would take kindly to the idea that an enormous dragon-like creature bigger than a one-room cottage was residing less than a day's travel away. Even though she had sworn herself to silence there was always the risk that she would be followed by someone well-meaning who thought an old woman alone might need protection. The local shepherds and goatherds in particular were more observant than most gave them credit for, and it was their business to know who came and went along the mountain paths from town.
Just to throw off anyone who might have spotted her once she got out of town, Frau Beck took her time wandering further south than her previous route. This also took her past a nice full bloom of hepatica, which she was happy to collect. Then she veered north again, and soon found herself as dusk was falling approaching the valley with the pine forest where she had met the lindworm.
She saw no sign of the lindworm, but then she hadn’t really expected to. This time she also knew better than to enter the cave itself, especially since the sun was rapidly sinking behind the mountain peaks. She was not interested in surprising a creature with teeth and claws that large again, and there would be no daylight t
o mark her exit to the cave if she had to leave in a hurry. So instead she found the clearest spot she could just outside the cave, settled down, and built a campsite. Her little fire crackled cheerfully, and she had just reached the point of adding her first substantial downed branch that she had broken into manageable pieces when a crunching, scraping sound from the cave announced that her fire had aroused curiosity.
Her heart tried to leap out of her chest with terror when the lindworm’s huge bulk came questing out of the darkness and she was struck anew with just how massive and deadly he appeared. But she forced herself to smile and say politely, “Good evening. I was hoping I might see you tonight.” She was pleased to hear only the most minor tremble in her voice, and she swallowed against her dry throat.
“You again, hedgewitch,” he said without preamble. “What are you doing here? I thought you promised to leave, and that your magic would not let you break that promise.”
“I did indeed,” she answered. “And I have told no one about meeting you. But I said nothing about not returning. I wanted another taste of wonder.”
The muscles around his eyes contorted, and if he were human his expression might have been called a scowl. “Do they also say of you that you are too clever for your own good as well as too curious?”
“If I said yes, would you be surprised?” she returned.
“Not at all.” He looked her up and down, and gusted out a sigh. “But I suppose since you are here, you may stay the night.”
“Most generous. Will you join me?” Frau Beck waved at the open, largely rock-free area between her campfire and the cave, which was large enough that he could stretch out full-length if he wished.
He blinked and drew his head on its sinuous neck back in obvious astonishment. Frau Beck waited, her pleasant smile still on her face, and did not press him further. She might be brash and presumptuous to turn up on him like this, but she wanted to make certain he knew that he could retreat back into the cave and ignore her if he wished.
They sat frozen, regarding each other for a few moments more. Then he sighed, lumbered forward a few steps, and sank down, curling his long tail around behind where she sat. “It has been some time since I have enjoyed the warmth of a fire.”
“Then you don’t breathe fire, or acid, or some such?” she asked, adding another section of branch to the flames.
“No.” He snorted. “What part of ‘I am not a dragon’ did you fail to understand at our last meeting?”
“I noticed you don’t have wings, and you have four legs, but when I was reading up on my lore on mystical beasts in the last few days stories seem to differ about whether that indicates dragon or wyvern,” Frau Beck said. “And I found nothing at all about lindworms. Naturally my curiosity only heightened, since you as the expert insist that there is a difference. So I had to return and ask.”
“Dragons had wings, and four legs, as your reading has told you. Wyverns had only back legs, and their front legs and wings combined,” he said. “Human understandably failed to notice the distinction and seems to have called us all ‘dragons’ at one time or another. My father, who believed he was the last of his kind before I was born, had never met either a dragon or a wyvern for comparison. Neither have I. He told me that he heard from his father that they were all hunted out centuries ago, along with the rest of the lindworms. Once men developed the technology for guns, there was little our hides could do to protect us where they had been perfectly adequate against swords and arrows.”
“How is it your line survived?”
“The story passed down is that my several-times great grandfather fled the slaughter and disappeared into these mountains, the Alps. Here we have lived ever since, moving often to escape detection, but even so my territory continues to shrink.” He gave her a significant look.
“My promise to tell no one still holds,” she reminded him. “And far be it from me to reveal someone else’s secrets if they wish to be left alone in peace. Hedgewitches went through our own time of persecution, and we haven’t forgotten.”
“Witch trials, I think you said?”
She nodded. “Once we lived more openly, but fear of our powers forced us to hide our true nature. It has grown easier in my lifetime and that of my mentor before me to co-exist in peace with our neighbors. As science and technology move ever forward, men are less inclined to believe in the fantastic. I suspect even if I were to practice magic openly before them, half of my neighbors would simply dismiss it as a trick and nothing more. The other half…well. Some of them would embrace it, and some would react with the terror of their ancestors. But I know a little of how you feel.” She hoped that by being so open, she might be able to begin building some trust and goodwill with this incredible creature. “I can put up magical protections around this valley, if you like. It will discourage others from stumbling across it.”
“I thank you for that,” he said, leaning forward as he studied her face more closely. “But I move a great deal. This is the cave where I spent the winter, but I roam much more freely in the warmer months. Far beyond this valley.”
“Oh. I should have thought of that. Of course finding enough food must be…difficult.” She swept her gaze down his enormous scaled length.
He sighed. “And it grows more difficult all the time. Not taking enough of the bigger game that men will notice an absence while silencing the ache in my belly is a constant war.” He twitched his tail, drawing her attention to the fact that it encircled her and her camp with plenty of room to spare and nearly touched his snout again. “I fear what my hunger will mean, if a day comes when mountain goats no longer satisfy.”
She easily caught his meaning. “Then you’ve never eaten a man before?”
“Never. And I never will. But I doubt I would get the chance to explain that.”
“Very likely not.” They both stared at the fire in silence for a few moments. At length, Frau Beck reached for her pack. “Well, would you like some dried meat or some sausage now? I can’t offer much, but I did bring as much extra as I could easily obtain as a goodwill gesture.”
Again, she had surprised him, and he leaned his head so close to the fire for a moment she was afraid it would singe his nose. “Sausage?”
If she had had any lingering fears that he was planning on killing her, not that he hadn’t already had ample opportunities, they were dispelled in that moment upon hearing the hopeful tone of his voice. She was surely more of a prize to a predator so large than any sausage link, yet the latter was obviously where his choice lay.
She grinned. “Would you prefer hot or cold? I think I saw several thin branches that would do for toasting.”
Chapter 5
Frau Beck used the camp she had set up as a base of operations for the next several days. She roamed over all the adjacent valleys, gathering more flowers and herbs than she really needed, but it was more of a token excuse to stay in the area.
At first the lindworm stuck close to his cave, only coming out if she shouted into it that she had returned in order to share her fire, some conversation and more sausages after the sun went down. On the third day, however, he asked if she minded if he accompanied her. His manner was so diffident that Frau Beck had the vague, humorous impression of being asked to walk out with a gentleman, as if she were sixteen years old again. She knew he didn’t mean it that way, since the questions he asked at night told her he found human customs occasionally baffling, but he was so painfully polite and his way of speaking almost charmingly old-fashioned that she couldn’t help the thought. She wondered where, exactly, he had learned to speak so well. But she didn’t want to overwhelm him with too many questions all at once.
He trailed after her as she collected herbs, occasionally asking questions about the uses of this one or that. She noticed that his long tail swept away any gouges his claws made in the earth, and the scratches he left in the rock were faint enough and spread enough apart not to be noticed unless you were looking. Towards midafternoon he wandered
away and found her again just as she was descending back into his valley. A few flaking dark stains around his muzzle told her what he had been doing during his absence.
Tonight, she felt comfortable enough to ask him a question that had been niggling at her since he first mentioned his forbears, and she thought he might be comfortable enough with her to answer honestly. “How is it your ancestors survived here in these mountains all this time? It seems, from what you’ve said, that there only ever seems to be one lindworm at a time, until the next generation.”
He saw what she was getting at, and visibly hesitated. She was getting to know his moods a little better, and thought she detected some discomfort. But eventually he said, slowly, as if the words were dragging out of him, “Yes. We don’t reproduce as humans do, male and female. There are no female lindworms, and there only need be one male for our race to continue.”
“Then what do you do? Lay eggs? Cut off a piece of your tail that grows into another lindworm?” Frau Beck leaned forward, fascinated by the idea.
“No. The method is… complicated. I am not certain I can explain, at least not well. I understand the principle, but I have never initiated the ritual myself.”
“Ritual?” Now Frau Beck raised an eyebrow. She pictured the elaborate courting behavior of some birds. “But…how can that be if there are no female lindworms?”
“Our birth mothers are human women.”
“What?” She blinked rapidly several times, not certain she’d heard correctly. “Surely you’re joking. How can—”
He growled, low in his throat. “I believe I mentioned I was once much smaller?”
“Well, yes, but that isn’t what I—” Though now that he had mentioned it, the notion made her shudder. One hand involuntarily went to her own belly. She shuddered again, though she tried to hide it by scooting closer to the fire and pretending she was cold. “So, how does it happen?”
The Dragon & the Alpine Star Page 5
