Chasing Wings

by Hanna Dare

  Marius paused before a heavy, carved door. He eyed Tris and gestured at his own coat collar. Tris hastily smoothed his light wool coat where it had gotten rumpled under the strap of his rucksack. At the last moment he took off the rucksack altogether and kicked it over to the side of the door.

  Marius knocked loudly and from the other side a voice barked, “Enter!”

  Marius tried the door. “It’s locked.”

  There was a pause and then the door was flung open.

  Tris could remember seeing the Earl from a distance on festival days in the village — he had seemed worn and gray and that had been ten years ago. The man who stood at the door was gray-haired and his face was lined but he moved with strength and vigor.

  “Well?” the Earl said, peering at Tris from under bushy eyebrows. His eyes were sharp and clear. “What have you brought me?”

  “Someone from that valley of yours,” Marius said. “He’s going to help with the housekeeping.”

  Tris shot a glance at Marius but then hastily turned a respectful gaze to the Earl. For his part, the old man was sizing him up like a sheep for sale on market day.

  “You come from Shadow’s Vale?”

  “Aye, m’lord,” Tris said.

  The earl’s gaze was faraway. He wore a blue velvet robe that looked older than he was — clean and brushed but marked with old patches. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it.”

  “Eleven years,” Tris supplied and then realized it probably wouldn’t do to remind the Earl of being chased off by an angry mob of villagers.

  The Earl’s face clouded briefly, and for a moment Tris thought he saw a glimpse of his great age, but then he nodded to Marius and moved with the light step of a younger man, waving them back before turning and locking the door to his study. “We might as well show the boy the creature and see if he has the stomach for the work.”

  Tris followed the Earl and Marius out of the room. They went down a narrow hall until at the very end of it, the Earl reached a door. A key hung on a hook next to the door and the Earl used it to unlock the door. He swung it open with a creak of hinges and stepped inside. Tris hesitated. How did one keep a dragon in a house? Was there some big pit on the other side of the door or a hidden cavern in the cliff face? What should he say to the dragon?

  Marius raised an eyebrow at Tris, clearly amused at his uncertainty. Tris, conscious of Marius’s eyes on him and the Earl waiting inside, straightened his shoulders and walked forward boldly and then stopped abruptly.

  Tris exhaled explosively. “Oh, fuck me.”

  In the room was a cage, and in the cage was a man.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tris stared into the room.

  It was windowless, with the only light coming from a lantern on a wooden table in the center of the room. There was enough light though to see the row of flat iron bars that sectioned off a third of the room. The cell was built into the rock face so that its back wall was rough, dark stone. It held a pallet with bedding, a wooden chair, and what looked to be a small covered chamberpot, discreetly shoved into a corner.

  And, of course, there was the man.

  He looked young, surely not any older than Tris. He was slender, with long legs drawn up under his chin as he sat perched on the chair. His skin was a light brown with a scattering of darker freckles over his cheeks. Closely cropped tight curls covered his head — unusually, those curls were very light-colored, seemingly almost white.

  The man’s face was narrow with a sharply pointed chin. In contrast to all that sharpness were a pair of richly plump lips that were pressed tightly together. He didn’t look up and his face was set, but his bare feet — clearly visible beneath the hem of his trousers — shifted slightly, toes curling a little tighter over the edge of the chair.

  It was that gesture, and the bare feet, that finally caused Tris to stop staring. He rounded on the Earl and Marius.

  “What’s this? What’s going on?” He pointed a finger at Marius. “I want some straight answers or—”

  Marius folded his arms and looked at Tris like he might as well have been a wobbly-legged lamb. “Or what?”

  Tris didn’t care that Marius was a head taller than him and had a sword strapped to his side. “Why have you got this man locked up? What’s his crime?”

  The Earl spoke with steady authority. “What you are seeing is an ancient enemy of humanity.”

  Tris heard his voice squeak with outrage. “He doesn’t even have socks!”

  “Perhaps you are not aware,” the Earl continued, “but dragons can change their shapes.”

  Tris shrugged noncommittally, but he studied the captive more closely. The young man stayed huddled in his trousers and light wool tunic.

  “You’re saying he’s a dragon who’s turned himself into a man?” The man hadn’t looked up, dark eyelashes touching his cheeks. Tris put his hands on his hips. “Then why hasn’t he changed back and burned this place down?”

  The Earl pursed his lips and glared at the man. “He’s stubborn. He claims not to be a dragon.”

  “I’m not,” the man’s voice rasped out. He finally looked up, revealing big brown eyes. “Whatever he says I am, it’s not true. I don’t know what else to tell them.” His voice cracked. “Please help me.”

  “Oh for—” Tris walked forward and grabbed at the hinged barred door. It was locked, of course. “Are you going to let him out?”

  Marius and the Earl just looked at him.

  “There are laws in this kingdom, you know.”

  Marius grinned. “By all means, gallop back to Rivermouth and see if you can find anyone willing to enforce those laws against the richest man in the area. You’re in the wilderness now, kid, the rules don’t apply.”

  Tris noticed a clay jug and cup on the table. “At least give him some water.”

  Marius moved aside in a mocking kind of way. Tris pushed by him to snatch the jug and cup. He sniffed at it to make sure it actually was water and poured some into the cup. Head held high, he marched over to the cell.

  There was a small hatch among the bars at the floor, a square opening that Tris assumed must be used to pass food to the man. He unlatched it and pushed the cup into the cell.

  The man got up, graceful despite his circumstances. He met Tris’s eyes as he bent down to pick up the cup. He drank, watching Tris the whole time.

  Tris nodded reassuringly at the man. “That’s it. You’re going to be all right.”

  Standing, the man was taller than Tris, but his slender form seemed insubstantial in his loose clothes. Tris felt especially sturdy and solid in comparison.

  “Thank you for the water,” the man said, his voice clearer. It was both soft and deep, like a cat’s purr. “But I can see that otherwise you’re useless.”

  He flung the cup at Tris. It hit the bars and shattered. Tris flinched as water and shards of pottery struck him.

  “Let me out!” The man grabbed the bars and shook at them uselessly. “Old man, I’m going to kill you when I get out of here. Snap your neck with my bare hands. Hands, not claws, because I’m not a fucking dragon!” Marius started to move toward the door and the man turned his angry gaze to him. “And you! Does your big sword make up for your tiny dick? Grabbing me in the woods like a common bandit.” His voice rose to a howl. “Kidnappers! Kidnappers!”

  Tris winced — the man really was loud. Marius gestured to him from the doorway; the Earl had already left the room. “Sorry,” he said to the man. “I’ll, um, get help or something.”

  He didn’t think the man heard him over his rage-filled shouts, and Tris finally hurried from the room.

  Marius slammed the door shut as soon as Tris was through it and the shouts were slightly muffled. “He’s a charmer,” Marius said. “You’re lucky he only threw water.”

  Tris brushed at his wet shirt and reconsidered his approach. He turned to the Earl who was leaning against a wall, rubbing his face in a frustrated sort of way. “M’lord, you must see that man’
s not a dragon. What good is it to keep him here?”

  “He is,” the Earl insisted. His hand moved to a chain around his neck. “He has to be. I called for a dragon and he came.”

  “All right,” Tris said uncertainly. The Earl might appear hale and hearty but that didn’t mean that his years hadn’t affected his mind.

  “I need him to change form.” The Earl seemed to be speaking more to himself. Tris glanced at Marius, who shrugged. “As he is now, he’s useless to me. But as a dragon his value is inestimable.”

  “I’ve made a few estimates,” Marius said.

  The Earl came back to himself enough to give Marius a withering look. “Clearly this lad that you have brought is unsuitable and somewhat hysterical.”

  Tris sucked in an outraged breath. He wasn’t sure what hysterical meant, but it didn’t sound good.

  Marius scratched his chin. “I’ll have a word. He’s very keen on dragons. Eager to learn and all that.”

  Tris wanted to remind them that he was standing right there while they talked about him, but he suspected that happened a lot with men with titles like earl.

  The earl in question barely nodded at Marius and didn’t look at all at Tris before he swept past them down the hallway. Tris stared from the Earl’s retreating back to Marius and finally to the closed door.

  “Well, then,” Marius said with a shrug. “Shall we see about some food?”

  “What?” Tris sputtered gesturing at the door. “But we’re just going to leave him?”

  “That’s the beauty of a prison cell. He’s not going anywhere. It’s not like I have the key, even if I did want to let the brat out.” He softened a tiny fraction. “He’s been in there a week or so now, so he should be used to it.”

  Tris stared up at him. “Do you really believe all that? That man — practically a lad — is a dragon?”

  Marius started down the hall, leaving Tris to trot along behind him. “Lambton muttered some words over the necklace he wears. It has a red stone in it — not much of a jewel, in my opinion, but according to your Earl it’s magical. He sent me off and blondie there showed up in a clearing in the woods just like the Earl said he would. Of course, I was expecting a dragon and all I got was a skinny kid with a bad attitude. But I figured I might as well have something to show for my time and grabbed him. The Earl was satisfied enough to pay me. Not in full, mind you, but he’s paying me to stick around in case the brat does transform and there needs to be some actual dragon slaying done.”

  “But do you really think—”

  “I’m not paid to think. And neither are you if you stay here.”

  “Whatever the job is, I’m not taking it.” Tris rubbed his face, suddenly exhausted. “The Earl really must be mad.”

  Marius shrugged. “Could be. But he’s still rich. Why not stay? The other servants won’t come back here, and I’m not cleaning up after some mouthy kid. You’re dragon-mad and the Earl has all sorts of knowledge. Not to mention me, an actual, not washed-up dragon hunter. Stick around and you might learn something.”

  “But…” Tris stopped and looked back, “this isn’t right.”

  Marius turned to look at him. “So convince your Earl of that. Right now you’re the only one looking out for that kid. Part of the reason I went to town was to see if anyone was searching for him. Nothing. You’ve seen how Rivermouth treats outsiders — no one’s going to come riding up here to rescue that man.”

  Tris wasn’t sure what to do. Marius stepped in a bit closer.

  “You either stay or go,” Marius said. His voice was hard as iron. “Those are your choices.”

  Tris was suddenly very much aware that Marius was a man who carried a sword and that he knew how to use it.

  “If I did stay,” Tris said slowly, “what would I have to do?”

  Marius showed his teeth in something like a smile. “Feeding and watering. You saw that he’s likely to throw anything you give him back at you, so you’ll be cleaning up the room. Empty his piss pot and hope that doesn’t get thrown as well. In the meantime, you can make nice with the Earl and get him to turn the poor fellow loose.” Marius smoothed his mustache. “Of course, he could turn out to be a dragon and is just biding his time until he feels like killing us all. But then you like a bit of danger, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

  Tris stared up at him and finally nodded. Marius patted him on the shoulder. It was too hard a pat to be friendly, but Marius seemed satisfied and continued through the house. Tris followed, thinking rapidly. He’d stay, because what else could he do for the man in the cage?

  He’d spent too many nights on cold mountainsides looking for stray sheep and lambs, the lesson hammered in from when he was a child — you don’t abandon anyone. Tris had to find a way to help him.

  The days settled into a kind of routine though it was the strangest routine Tris had ever known.

  He slept in a narrow room high up in the topmost attic. The endless creaking and shifting of the wooden house kept him on edge and on nights when it rained, the sound against the shingles was like hundreds of tapping fingers, each vying for his attention. Tris would lie awake, mulling over everything that had got him to this place and what he was going to do next. There were never any answers, so Tris inevitably gave up on thinking and took himself in hand to try and tire himself out enough to fall asleep. It often took more than one go, but Tris was always up for it.

  Despite the poor sleep, he was awake every morning before dawn — the habits of farm life too long-held for him to sleep in. He was often the first to make it down in the kitchen and he worked to endear himself to Helda by starting the fire. She usually snorted disdainfully when she saw him at work, but the portions of the meals she doled out to him grew from meagre to nearly adequate, which was a positive sign. Tris got into the habit of stealing a few bites from the tray she prepared for him to take to the back of the house because it wasn’t like he ever finished his meals anyway.

  There were two girls — sisters, he thought — who helped in the kitchen and cleaned the front part of the house. They were timid and resisted all attempts at conversation. Tris wasn’t sure if that was because Helda had warned them away or if they shunned him because of the dark doings in the back of the house. He couldn’t blame them for that.

  Aside from Helda and the girls, the staff consisted of Yonah, who stayed outside, tending the horses, endlessly splitting wood — and, from what Tris gathered, secretly drinking — and the ancient man who was the Earl’s valet, though he mostly seemed to nap. Tris remembered the Earl’s tall keep in the valley. It had been a bit rundown, even before it was burned, but it had employed more than a dozen servants and guards. He wondered if the Earl felt he had come down in the world, living in the wilderness surrounded by the uncaring pine trees and rocks.

  Tris didn’t have much chance to ask the Earl, about his feelings or anything else, since he never saw the man. The Earl kept to his study, taking most of his meals there. He may have slept in there for all Tris knew. It was frustrating, because while Tris had come up with many plans to rescue the prisoner — each more daring and heroic than the last — the only one that seemed to have an actual chance of succeeding was to convince the Earl to simply let him go. Tris wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, but actually getting to talk to him seemed like the best place to start. Until then, he had to do his work, no matter how wrong it seemed.

  Tris’s chief responsibility at the house was the care and feeding of the prisoner.

  He brought a breakfast tray in every morning and collected the chamberpot. So far, the man hadn’t thrown that at him, but everything else was fair game. Tris usually left the room with food in his hair and his ears ringing with shouts and insults. He still tried to greet him cheerily every time he came in.

  “Good morning,” Tris said, shouldering the door open. “How did you sleep?”

  “Oh, wonderful,” the man snarled. “Dreaming of what I’m going to do once I’m out of this cell. How do y
ou think you’d look with your intestines around your throat?”

  “Pretty foolish, I reckon,” Tris said as he set the tray down on the table. “But I expect I wouldn’t mind much on account of me being dead.”

  “You couldn’t look any worse. Did you have to fight a horse for that pile of hay you have on your head?”

  Tris patted his hair down and shrugged. “It is getting a bit long again. My sister cut it for me before I left, but I guess that was a couple months ago now. I told you about my sister Lily, didn’t I? She owns the inn back home in Shadow’s Vale.”

  “I’ll cut your hair for you,” the man offered. He was curled up on the pallet, but he was the opposite of relaxed — more like a snake coiled to strike. “Bring me some shears and lean in close to the bars.”

  Tris grinned. “I don’t think I’d come back from that with all my parts.”

  He’d made the mistake on his first day of putting a fork on the tray and promptly been stabbed in the hand with it. The wound on the back of his hand was still fresh, a good reminder to bring a wooden spoon instead. The man smirked every time he saw Tris’s hand.

  Tris set the tray down near the hatch. The man had put the chamberpot next to it and he always looked away when Tris retrieved it, long eyelashes sweeping down over his cheeks, like he was embarrassed, so Tris made sure to do that part quickly. He took the covered pot out and slid the breakfast tray into the cell.

  “Back in a moment,” he called as he left the room. He also wanted to give the man some privacy in the hopes that he would eat more without an audience.

  Tris took care of the pot and its contents outside and then came back to find the tray back in its spot, the food only half-eaten.

  “You really need to eat more. You’re not going to get thin enough to squeeze between the bars if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  The prisoner had moved to the chair, his legs crossed beneath him in a way that would have been impossible for Tris to duplicate. “Are you fattening me up for slaughter? They’re certainly doing a good job of that on you.”