“We’ll have no trouble,” Kenrick said, letting a touch of contempt show in his voice. The braver of Penruth’s knights had already tried and failed, leaving only the cowards. “Come along, Giles.”
The squire, to his credit, looked more excited than worried as they picked their way down the steep hill. The path flattened onto a bluff that loomed over a rocky beach. By dismounting and peering over, Kenrick saw that the causeway to the island ran from the lower end of the beach. A narrow footpath zigzagged down the face of the bluff. “Giles, stay here with the horses. The tide is low, so I might try to cross the causeway to see what’s on the other side.”
Giles frowned. “Shouldn’t you wear full armor when you do that, sire?”
Kenrick shook his head. “This is just a scouting expedition. I’m not out to stir trouble. Besides, full armor might be a bad idea against a dragon since it limits agility. And carries heat.”
Giles blanched at the thought of iron armor burned by dragon fire. “Perhaps you shouldn’t wear the hauberk, either.”
Kenrick shrugged. “Dragons have teeth and claws as well as flame. There are no rules for fighting dragons. I am just guessing what might serve me best.” He slung his shield and sword over his back so his hands would be free. “But this is only a scouting expedition so that I can learn the ground.”
“I shall wait here on the bluff.”
“Pull further back to the shelter of that old stone hut,” Kenrick ordered. “This headland is too bare. You would be an easy target for a flying beast. If the worst happens, there’s no point in both of us being baked for a dragon’s breakfast.”
Giles looked even more concerned. Likely he hadn’t thought about the techniques of dragon fighting. Kenrick had thought of little else on the long ride south.
He tossed his reins to his squire. “I’ll be back before the sun sets. If I don’t return by then, ride back to Penruth and inform the baron that he must find a fourteenth knight. I name you heir to my horses and armor.”
“Sire!” Giles exclaimed, horrified.
Kenrick chuckled. “Don’t worry, lad, I don’t intend to do anything to get myself killed. But it’s good to make my wishes clear, just in case.”
He turned and started down the footpath to the beach, feeling the thrumming excitement that came before combat. He was relaxed yet watchful, aware of everything happening around him.
He was ready for whatever might come.
Chapter 3
Dragon Island was peaceful in the pale afternoon sun. The steep footpath was bordered with tough little bushes that provided handholds as Kenrick scrambled down to the shingle beach. The only activity was nesting seabirds.
Halfway down the path Kenrick halted to study the area more closely. The causeway was wide enough for only one man to pass. A horse could be brought along the beach, but it would have trouble crossing the causeway. A donkey would be better. The almost-island would make an impregnable site for a castle, though it would be damnably cold in winter.
He was about to resume his descent when he saw four shabby figures moving purposefully along the beach. These were no peasants or fishermen. They were armed with daggers and swords and they wore boiled leather cuirasses to protect themselves in a fight. Bandits. Perhaps a gang of thieves used the island for a hideout, and encouraged dragon rumors to keep people away? The crashing waves drowned out any conversation among them.
Since the bandits hadn’t seen him, he crouched, partially concealed by a bush, until the four had crossed the causeway and were on the island. They moved warily, glancing upward often. Were they looking for a dragon, or watching for people on the island? He was glad that Giles was too far from the bluff to be visible. The bandits might want to steal the horses.
With the men out of sight, Kenrick finished his descent and started over the slippery stones of the causeway. With so many tumbled boulders on the island, the bandits were unlikely to see him following. Since he couldn’t see them, either, he carried his sword in his hand, all senses on alert.
He reached the end of the causeway and began climbing the steep hill. Several times, he passed blackened areas. It seemed unlikely that anyone would have built a cooking fire on this barren ground. Hard not to wonder if knights had been charred on these spots. There were no bones or other human remains. But there wouldn’t be if the dragon had carried the cooked knight off for dinner….
Chiding himself for too much imagination, Kenrick continued upward. Once he found a scorched, half melted piece of chain mail about a foot square. The sight was chilling. Mail was not easily torn from a hauberk. Nor easily melted.
As he neared the top of the steep hill, concealing himself behind boulders whenever possible, he heard a rumble of rough male voices speaking in some dialect he couldn’t understand. They sounded surprisingly close. He also heard the frightened baaing of sheep. Maybe the bandits were sheep thieves.
A woman screamed. He stopped in his tracks, shocked at the terror in her voice. Then he bolted up the rocky path, almost falling as pebbles shifted under his feet.
The path opened to a narrow meadow that was fenced in by rocks on three sides, with the other side open to the sea. Terrified sheep were fleeing along a narrow path that led from the far end of the meadow, their bleats fading as they vanished from sight. The screams came from a bright haired young woman who was pinned to the ground by a bandit who ripped at her clothing with greedy hands.
Though the girl fought desperately, she was helpless against the man’s strength. The other three bandits stood around the girl, cheering the would-be rapist and arguing who would get the next turn.
The girl’s resistance ended when her assailant walloped the side of her head, knocking her unconscious. Pray God she was only unconscious!
He pulled the hood of his hauberk over his head, then armed himself with his sword in his right hand and his dagger in his left. Teeth bared and blades flashing, he charged into the narrow meadow.
The first man died howling as Kenrick’s sword stabbed through his back. Hardened leather was not up to the slice of sharpened steel. As Kenrick yanked the blade free, the other two men who were on their feet spun about and reached for their weapons.
Kenrick used his dagger to deflect a sword thrust by the bandit on the left while he parried the man on the right with his own blade. These were not mere bandits, but trained soldiers. At a guess, mercenaries turned rogue. Though he’d taken one man down through surprise, he was now outnumbered three to one.
Too late for second thoughts. Even if he’d known how skilled they were, he could not have stood by and watched an innocent girl raped, perhaps murdered.
The fight was chaotic, a maelstrom of filthy men and deadly blades. The bandits landed punishing blows, but Kenrick’s mail protected him from lethal injury. If he survived, he’s have bruises aplenty, and his left hand bled from a shallow gash.
His sword took a second man in the throat. Two down, two to go. The would-be rapist had risen, and he was the largest bandit of all. He joined his companion and the two of them began herding Kenrick back toward the cliff edge.
Not sure how close that lethal drop was, he lunged toward the man on his left, going in below the bandit’s guard to deliver a deadly stab to the heart. Then he swung to face the last man, the rapist.
The brute had great skill, Kenrick grudgingly admitted, and he was quick on his feet. He also has the advantage of not having engaged four enemies at once, so he was fresh and full of strength. Step by step, he forced Kenrick back toward the cliff.
Barely holding exhaustion at bay, Kenrick fought on, looking for a weakness in the bandit’s guard. He found it when the fellow slashed at his eyes. When Kenrick dodged, he slid on the damp grass and fell to one knee an arm’s length from the cliff. The bandit moved in with a shout of triumph, his sword descending with killing force.
Kenrick spitted the bastard on his blade.
Gurgling blood, the bandit fell forward, then pitched sideways over the cliff. There wer
e dull thumps as he struck rocky outcroppings on the way down. Finally, a distant splash. He would ravish no more maidens.
Dizzy and acutely aware of every blow he’d suffered, Kenrick staggered to his feet and crossed the meadow toward the unconscious girl. As he approached, her eyes opened and she pushed herself to a sitting position. Blessed be, she had survived the assault. Her plain, grass-stained gown was that of a village girl, but the wildly tangled red-gold hair that fell over her face would have won acclaim at the king’s court.
As she flinched away from him, he said, “Demoiselle, you are safe now. Were you injured?”
She looked up, and he gasped as their gazes met. The girl was stunning, her features exquisite despite the bruises on her face. Her eyes were an amazing shade that shimmered between green and blue gray, as mysterious as the sea.
And her figure! The ripping of her gown showed more than a gentleman should see. Kenrick knew he should look away, and couldn’t.
The girl’s gaze moved to the bodies of the bandits. “I…I am not seriously harmed, Sir Knight.” She touched the bruise on her cheek, wincing. “I owe you great thanks.” Her speech was surprisingly genteel, and she used proper English, not Cornish.
She was about to say more when a shadow fell across them both. That hard, menacing shape was no cloud. Kenrick jerked his head up and saw a great silvery dragon swooping down toward him, claws extended.
The girl screamed, “No!” and scrambled to her feet frantically.
Summoning the last shreds of his strength, Kenrick raised his bloody sword. He had never imagined how huge, how powerful, a dragon might be. The wings filled the sky. Despite their vastness, it was hard to imagine how they supported that massive, silver scaled body. No wonder a dozen other knights had died here! No man could defeat such a creature.
Now he would be unlucky thirteen, but maybe the girl could be saved. “Get back!” he called to her. “I shall hold him off as long as I can!”
The dragon breathed out a stream of fire. Though it wasn’t aimed directly at Kenrick, he was unable to control his instinctive jerk away from the blistering flames. With horror, he found himself teetering on the edge of the cliff. He scrambled to regain his balance, stabbing his sword into the turf to stabilize himself.
Then a blast of wind from the dragon’s wings struck and knocked him from his feet. Slowly, inexorably, he tumbled over the cliff. For an instant he was falling free, too stunned for fear. Better to die this way than burned alive!
He slammed into a stone ledge that broke bones before he ricocheted into space again. His last conscious thought was hope that the girl might survive….
Giles shivered through a long, cold night as hope faded. With the dawn, he grimly saddled up for the ride back to Penruth. He had seen the monstrous dragon swooping down on the island, fire flaming from its great jaws, and knew that there was no chance that his master could survive such an attack.
Sir Kenrick of Rathbourne, the most generous of masters, was dead.
Chapter 4
Kenrick gradually became aware of his body again. A very painful, throbbing, beaten up body. His ribs and left hand were bound, and his lower right leg was splinted. Had he been in a tourney where every horse in the field rode over him?
Piece by piece, he remembered the rocky islet, the bandits and the girl. Then the great dragon that had sent him to his doom.
Though he’d died unshriven, this place didn’t seem hot enough for hell. But would he hurt so much in heaven? Purgatory, that would be it. Perhaps some of his sins had been canceled by his attempt to save the maiden, so he would suffer the torments of the damned for a limited time. Eons instead of eternity.
Dully he wondered if the girl had survived. He hoped so. It would be good to know his death had accomplished some good. She had been a lovely creature….
When he came awake again, his mind was much clearer. He opened his eyes and saw raw stone above. Yet his bed was comfortable and warm blankets covered him.
And the air smelled of flowers.
Ignoring the pain, he turned his head to study his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cave, a well furnished one. Beside his bed, the rocky chamber contained a chest, a table, a bench, and a wooden chair with arms. On the table was a rough pottery vase filled with fragrant golden blooms. Though Cornwall was warmer than the rest of England, flowers were still unexpected at this season.
His hauberk was draped from the back of the chair, his sheathed sword and dagger laid neatly underneath. He was grateful for that, armor and weapons were far too dear to replace.
Candles glowed in wall sconces, and there were even carpets on the floor, warming the cold stone. A piece of tapestry cloth covered the exit and seabirds could be heard crying outside. He must still be on the island. But how had he avoided dying?
A shapely silhouette appeared against the light in the doorway. The maiden! He started to sit up, then fell gasping back on his pillows as agony lanced through his ribs.
“You are awake!” The girl rushed to his side, then halted, her sea-change eyes wide and wary. The magnificent red-gold hair was plaited into a thick braid that fell past her waist. “You were so badly injured that I wasn’t sure I could heal you.”
Her exquisite, mobile face was enough to dissolve a man’s wits even if he wasn’t dizzy already. “I am Sir Kenrick of Rathbourne,” he managed to say. “I am sorry there is no one to introduce us.”
Her eyes lit with laughter. “This is no royal court. I am Ariane. I am pleased to meet you, Sir Kenrick.” She laid a cool hand on his forehead. “The fever is gone.”
She pulled the blankets down to check his bandaged ribs. Her light touch sent a spark between them that startled her as much as him. He was embarrassingly aware of his nakedness below the blankets, and he tried not to think of who had undressed him.
She covered him again and stepped backwards. “Would you like some broth?”
Kenrick considered the idea. Ordinarily broth was not very interesting, but it sound right at the moment. “That would be very welcome, Mademoiselle Ariane.”
“Ariane will do."
She turned to the table, where a tankard was steaming. He could smell the meaty scent of the broth and wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. “I’m glad that you escaped the dragon, Ariane. I came here to slay it, but the bandits left me in no shape to attack the beast.”
Now that he had seen the dragon, he doubted any knight could defeat it except through luck. Perhaps a large, heavily armed and armored band could manage it, but a single knight? No.
Ariane slammed the tankard back on the table and turned to glare at him, her braid swirling like a cat’s tail. “I have had enough of idiot knights coming here and attempting to kill a dragon who has caused them no harm! Lord Magnus has been slashed with swords, shot with arrows, and stabbed with lances. If you hadn’t been wounded by the bandits, you would have done the same. You should be ashamed of yourself, sir!”
He stared at her. “So you live here willingly and are not a prisoner?”
“Of course I’m not a prisoner! And I must tell you, sir, that I like Lord Magnus a good deal better than any knight I’ve ever met. That includes you!.”
“Magnus?” he said weakly. “That is the beast’s name?”
“Yes, and he isn’t a beast!” She glared at him defiantly. “He’s my grandfather!”
Kenrick had struck his head much too hard. His wits were scrambled. Or Ariane’s were. “He can’t be your grandfather! He’s a dragon. You’re a human.”
“You know nothing!” she hissed, her eyes furious.
Yes, hissed, because as he watched, the lovely Ariane shimmered into a blaze of light. When the light cleared, the girl had been replaced by a dragon roughly the same size. The shimmering scales were the same apricot shade as her hair.
“Christ have mercy!” he whispered. “Have I gone mad?”
The dragon snorted and dropped on all fours, which brought the beast within touching distance of the bed.
Its teeth were impressively long. And sharp. “Ariane?” Warily he extended his hand, as if introducing himself to a strange dog.
She snapped her teeth at him. “Keep your handss to yoursself!” Eerily, her voice was Ariane’s despite the sibilance of her tone.
He withdrew his hand hastily. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect!”
His temples pounded like drums. He closed his eyes, thinking that if he had lost his wits, madness was as real as the world he’d grown up in.
There was another possibility. He opened his eyes again. “Am I in Faerie?”
“Of coursse not.” The dragon sat up on her haunches. Her eyes still echoed the sea. “I know of no other world but thiss one.”
“Forgive my ignorance,” he said humbly. “Will you tell me more about yourself and your grandfather and…and dragons in general?”
The dragon shimmered and was replaced by the human Ariane, looking exactly as she had before her transformation. Her brown kirtle and tan tunic weren’t even wrinkled. “At least you are willing to admit your ignorance. So few men will.”
He gave her a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps I should be offended on behalf of my sex, but I haven’t the strength.”
An answering glint of smile showed in her eyes. “You need that broth. Here, I’ll help you sit up.”
She slid an arm behind his back so she could prop him up with pillows. He caught his breath at her warm closeness. It was…distracting. Though she might not be a lady, she was most certainly a woman.
Despite her previous flare of temper, she moved him gently, keeping the pain to a minimum. When he was settled comfortably, she placed the tankard between his hands. He took a deep swallow of the warm, tasty broth and felt a little stronger.
He considered her garments. The fabric was plain but sturdy, a village girl’s garb. He’d swear that the outfit was the same one she had worn when she was attacked, but the rips and grass stains had vanished as if they had never existed. “As a dragon, you were…sky clad. What happens to your clothing when you are in dragon form?”
DRAGON AND THE DARK KNIGHT, THE Page 2
