The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

“What’re you doing, Highness? Stop, I say!”

  She refused to yield. His gloved hand reached out.

  “Hold on!” a voice entered Celesia’s ear from ahead.

  She looked to the trees for the source, and saw none.

  “Duck!”

  Celesia lowered herself close to the stallion’s mane. A thick branch swooshed over her head. The following horseman rammed headlong into it, knocking him off his steed. He fell on the ground and tumbled to a stop. Motionless. Unconscious. Celesia turned and rode on without looking back, leading the stallion deeper into the forest until they reached the valley’s basin.

  I have to go back. I can’t let them hurt Tuke!

  A sliver of moonlight glossed over the mountains behind her. The horse then slowed to a stop within a small clearing. At the heart of the clearing stood the dragon and the ogre—waiting. The rising moon shed pale light over the clearing, enough for Celesia to see. The two creatures raised their heads, smiling in turn. Groth opened his arms and clapped his broad hands.

  “Succulent sausages!” he said. “I was beginning to think she’d forgotten about us.”

  “She had to change her clothes, apparently,” Flint added. “Well done, Princess. Did you find it?”

  Celesia reached for her satchel and removed the dagger, holding it up for them to see. She turned back, watching and listening for her pursuers while catching her breath. She half-hoped to see Tuke emerge from the trees. But when he didn’t, she began to fear the worst. “Here it is, and you need to hurry,” she said. “I was followed by Dálcort’s men. More may be coming.” She put the dagger inside her satchel and patted the stallion’s neck before she dismounted. As much as she liked the majestic creature, she had to release it. She had promised to let it go for helping her escape.

  “You’re free now, as I promised,” she said, stroking the horse’s mane one last time. “Thank you.”

  The stallion turned its head and looked her in the eyes—smiling. “I should be thanking you.”

  Chapter 6

  Unveiling the Message

  Celesia backed away from the stallion. Her heel caught the baggy end of her pant leg, and she stumbled onto a patch of grass. The creatures laughed a little, but not Flint. Crossed and confused, Celesia stood and faced the stallion, hoping beyond hope that she wasn’t insane.

  “You can talk? But—horses can’t talk.”

  “For the most part, no,” the stallion said. “I am from the northern plains of Trisontia, where you humans have yet to succeed in capturing us. The castle was an improper place for me to speak with you. The risk of a stablehand eavesdropping would have ruined our plan.”

  Celesia turned to the dragon. “What plan?”

  The moon’s light glistened in Flint’s eyes. “We’ve waited long enough to see Ereman’s dagger. Thanks to your Prince Dálcort, Hilander is the first of our kind to enter the grounds of Bëdoustram in decades. It was our best opportunity to gather information, so I allowed it.”

  “I allowed it,” Hilander clarified. “I only pretended to be tamed. Her prince will never break me.”

  “He’s not my prince!” Celesia’s hiss caused Flint and Hilander to back away a smidgen. Groth didn’t move. He was too preoccupied trying to flick earwax off his finger. “What about yesterday, Hilander?” Celesia asked. “If Dálcort didn’t break you, why did you act so sad?”

  “Hilander is something of a thespian—quite a fine actor,” Groth said, finally resorting to wiping his finger on his shirt. “We all have something peculiar about us. I love to cook, and Master Flint, well he’s—”

  The dragon snarled, causing the ogre to bite his lip. Everyone went quiet. Not even the insects chirped. “We don’t have time for idle talk,” Flint said. “This is the moment we’ve waited for. Let’s see the dagger.”

  Celesia looked behind her and spotted the castle on the hill. The dragon was right. Their time was short. The riders would find them, and she had to know what happened to Tuke. She had to be sure he was safe. The dragon’s urgency caused Celesia to clench her satchel tight, second-guessing her willingness to hand it over.

  “Before I do anything, I want to know more about this plan of yours,” Celesia insisted.

  Flint sat down and shifted his wings back, his claws huddling in front of him like a giant cat. “Hilander volunteered to let your prince capture him, so he could infiltrate the castle as a spy. Then, during the hunt when your party entered the thicket, I flew over Hilander ... a little close, I admit ...” An abashed growl sounded in his throat. “I didn’t mean to send you over the cliff.”

  Shaken and livid, Celesia’s knuckles turned white. Her horse had died, and she had almost lost her life as well, because of the dragon in the first place. And now Tuke was in a great deal of trouble because of what she had done. There was no telling what kind of trouble was waiting for her at home. “Why weren’t you upfront with me? How do you expect me to trust you now?”

  “Don’t if you must, but you will give us the dagger.”

  Annoyance vibrated from the dragon’s throat as he crouched low, like a predator about to pounce. The creatures surrounded Celesia, staring all the while. She took a step back, and tucked the satchel under her arm. “Or what? Lie to me some more?”

  “We never lied,” Groth said. “Just left out a few parts, is all. Now give it here. Don’t force us to.”

  Celesia turned and broke into a run. She hadn’t taken five steps when a dark tail whipped at the air and crashed in front of her. With the ogre on one side and the white stallion on the other, she had nowhere to run. Celesia looked at each of them in turn. Her throat dry.

  Her chest was pounding.

  “Enough,” Flint said, his voice growing impatient. “Hand the dagger to Groth. If it contains the answer we seek, we’ll leave you to gallivant wherever you wish. I won’t request anything else from you, Celesia.”

  She breathed and swallowed, wishing with all her might to be anywhere else. Hilander and Groth stepped in line with her movements. They wouldn’t yield, which left her with only two options: either give them a dagger with possibly laced magic, or let them kill her for it.

  For all she knew, either choice was dangerous.

  What choice do I have?

  She glanced at the ogre, reached into her satchel and slowly placed the dagger in Groth’s balmy blue hand. A sensation radiated from her heart the moment she did so—a warm prickle shot through her body, the strands of her hair made light. The effect soon withered, and her skin cooled again at the touch of autumn night.

  Hilander nudged her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m ... fine,” she answered, shaking her head. Celesia looked at Flint with a vehement stare while his face remained insistent, and yet slightly penitent. “Find the answers you’re looking for and leave my realm,” Celesia said. A cool breeze chilled her arms. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her body. “Make it fast. I must return the dagger to my castle when you’re finished.”

  Flint gave her a nod, acknowledging her terms.

  “Should we light a fire to see?” Groth asked.

  “No fires.” Flint’s voice was more relaxed now, as it was before, when they first met. “The guards will see the flames from here. The moon should be enough.” He sucked in a deep breath. “This had better work.”

  The ogre unsheathed the dagger and held it up for everyone to see. Flint stretched out his arm and pointed a claw at the sharp blade. A thin stream of sky-blue light struck the dagger from his claw tip. Celesia wondered how the dragon did this, failing to remember reading if dragons were able to conjure magic. Nevertheless, the strange light lingered on the blade for a moment.

  And then faded. Nothing had changed.

  Nothing happened to the dagger at all.

  “Another useless lead ...” Flint slumped to the side of the clearing, and turned his back on the others.

  Was the dragon sulking? How unbecoming ...

  “What was supposed to happen?�
� Celesia asked.

  “I wish I could answer.” Groth held the blade and carefully examined it. “What a botheration. Perhaps the real dagger is at rest near the ruins of LaVóndi-ouch!”

  Everyone turned as Groth dropped the dagger. The weapon unleashed a hot glow as it fell to the ground. Like a furnace, it singed the hem of Celesia’s cloak.

  The dragon’s eyes grew wide. “It’s working!”

  Flint returned to the huddle and reached for the dagger, but it rose into the air on its own accord. Bright flames burst from the sharp edges, leaving the dagger intact as it revolved in front of them. The creatures leaned over Celesia’s shoulders, her heart pounding again as small words formed on the blade, etched in white-hot letters. The fire stopped, and the dagger fell, hissing on the grass with a wispy smoke. Groth took up a cloth, grabbed the dagger and held it for all to see:

  The Dragon’s Heart hath suffered my blow—

  Its potential for evil should never be known—

  Celesia had a seat on the cold ground, feeling the need to gather her nerves. The three creatures paced about the clearing, trying to decipher the meaning; the magic was certainly impressive, but Celesia was lost in her own thoughts, and she couldn’t shake the warm sensation that had raced through her chest, after placing the dagger in Groth’s hand. Although she desired to leave the creatures in their ruminations, she felt drawn to the dagger and its message. She couldn’t leave it.

  “The Dragon’s Heart hath suffered my blow—” Flint muttered.

  “Its potential for evil should never be known—” Groth added.

  “There must be more to it,” said Hilander. “There is plenty of room on the blade. Will it unveil more?”

  “Who knows,” Groth said with a shrug, “but one thing we know for sure: The Dragon’s Heart is real—and that must be what the Alchemist used to steal the magic from LaVóndia.”

  “A clever hypothesis, Groth,” Hilander whinnied. “If The Dragon’s Heart suffered a blow from Ereman’s dagger, maybe this dagger, then he must have destroyed the Heart along with himself.”

  “Destroyed,” Flint agreed, “but not entirely lost?”

  Hilander nickered. “What do you mean?”

  “If this Dragon’s Heart was destroyed, do you suppose it can be repaired?”

  “Could we even manage it?” Groth asked. “What is it anyway? I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “No one knows for sure,” Hilander said, “or what it looks like, for that matter.”

  Dry heat escaped Flint’s mouth. “It eludes me, too.”

  “Sarandretta might,” Groth said. “Let’s ask her!”

  “The mage of Olgena?” Flint laughed. His long tail rose like a wave and fell flat again. “What makes you think she knows the Dragon’s Heart, Grologroth?”

  “Well, she’s ancient—she might predate it. It’s worth a try. She lives east of Erdwyn, in the marshes.”

  “Then let us be off.” Hilander started to trot away, but he turned to Celesia. “There is the matter of our Princess, who has seen much. Will she come with us?”

  Although this suggestion intrigued her initially, she had something else to do. “I can’t go with you.”

  The creatures glanced at her. “Why?” Flint asked.

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. “I may have gotten a boy in trouble. Tuke needs my help—”

  “But the dagger is not what we thought it was,” Groth said, “and we would like to keep our promise to you. I think this Dragon’s Heart is what will remove your curse. You can help us find it.”

  “Under another circumstance I would, but—”

  “I smell his scent all over you.” The others stared at Flint as Celesia’s blood rose to her face. “She didn’t borrow those clothes. Someone has given them to her.”

  Celesia wrapped her small fingers about her mother’s stone. This dragon is even more perceptive than I thought.

  “Oh ho!” Groth looked Celesia over from head to toe, laughing. “I was wondering about your new wears. They belong to a young lad, do they? Not a prince? Do you have an eye for him?”

  “You should have seen them kiss,” Hilander said. “It was quite a tender moment.”

  Celesia blushed, and then frowned.

  Why did he have to say that?

  “It’s settled,” Flint said. “We will return after we find the Heart.” The dragon’s final decision, and the way he turned away, angered Celesia. “Let’s go, Grologroth. I see torches coming.” The ogre complied with a sigh as he fastened the scabbard to a strap over his shoulder. Hilander trotted next to Celesia as Flint turned south and plowed into the forest without looking back.

  “Pleasure seeing you twice,” Groth said, following his master. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

  Celesia and the stallion watched as they vanish into the trees. “Be grateful, Princess,” Hilander said. “He is not as the other dragons.”

  I figured as much. “How is he different?”

  “He has not eaten me.” The stallion stepped around Celesia, enough so he could face her. “You have proven your kindness, and I am sorry for deceiving you. In turn, I will gladly let you ride me for as long as I live.”

  Celesia accepted his apology as she worked a smile. Part of her was sad that her adventure was over, but the greater part of her was eager to see Tuke again. “Will you return me to the castle?”

  “You will allow me to flee once we arrive?”

  “Yes,” Celesia answered. “I promise.” She hoisted herself onto his saddle, and Hilander was off with a jaunt. Just then, a sharp tug suddenly yanked Celesia off the horse. She fell to the ground and looked up, startled and winded. Something felt tied around her waist, but there was nothing there. A second pull dragged her across the grass. “Hilander!” she cried. “Help me!”

  The stallion whinnied and turned to assist her. Every time Celesia tried to stand up or resist, she tumbled backward, toward the trees, exactly where Flint and Groth had entered the forest.

  “Flint!” Hilander screamed. “Grologroth, something is happening to the Princess!”

  The gripping sensation came to a halt, leaving Celesia tousled at the edge of the clearing. A loud whoosh swayed over the treetops, and a great thump followed and shook the ground.

  “What happened?” Flint looked about, his tail high. “Is she hurt?”

  “No,” Celesia answered, “but, a most curious thing happened. Something was pulling me, dragging me over the grass, just as we were about to leave.”

  “What’s all the hobble?” Groth asked with a wheeze.

  Flint’s eyes narrowed, and his head circled around Celesia. He took a great breath through his protracted snout, causing Celesia’s hair to rise. “Hand me that dagger, Grologroth ...” When the ogre complied, Flint threw the blade into the air as hard as he could. The others protested, just as Celesia flew a few feet off the ground. She then landed hard on her stomach, slightly winded, seconds before the dagger fell back to the earth. The blade sunk into the turf a few yards off. The ogre and stallion stared at one another in amazement.

  Perplexed, Celesia looked at the dragon.

  “Looks like we have no choice,” Flint said. “She must come with us.”

  Chapter 7

  Entering the Forest

  All Celesia could do was stare at the dragon, doing her best to suppress the fear creeping into her heart. The tone of his voice implied a curse, rather than a blessing. No. Worse. He made it sound like she had no choice in the matter. She couldn’t have that. “Why must I go?”

  The dragon purred slightly. “You and the dagger are inseparable now, bound by magic that only the great wizard Ereman could’ve summoned.”

  “A tethering charm?” Groth asked. “Yes—I heard he was famous for those. Used the charm against outlaws who tried to rob him once. He bound the blighters to trees and rocks.”

  “So, I’m bound to this dagger?” Celesia asked. “As in, permanently attached? For how long?”

&n
bsp; “Not sure,” Flint answered. “It could be forever, or a few days, or until you break the charm somehow. Most charms have a task assigned to them. What this task is? I have no idea.” The dragon raised a thick claw to his chin. “There’s no telling what goes through the mind of a wizard.” His ears suddenly turned toward the castle. “Horsemen are heading this way—twenty of them.”

  “We will outrun them with ease,” Hilander replied. “We had better go before they see us.”

  “Hurry, Princess,” Groth said. “Take the dagger and follow us into the forest.”

  Celesia didn’t move. She didn’t know what to do.

  I can’t go. I must know what happened to Tuke ...

  The others paused at the trees. “Hurry, Celesia!”

  Contrary to her feelings and her usual reaction when given orders, Celesia secured the dagger onto her belt and refastened her cloak before she climbed onto the stallion again. She would never forgive herself if Tuke was punished because of her. But she also knew, now stricken by two curses, that she was of no help to anyone until both of them were lifted. Her only hope relied on these creatures of magic, for they were more inclined in how to deal with such things. They had to.

  The faint melody of baying hounds sounded in the distance. The horsemen weren’t far behind them. Yet somehow, Celesia wasn’t worried. Tuke could manage for a short while. And with a dragon that could make himself invisible, her people would never find her. Hilander ran south, following the others deep into the forest before the Bëdoustram host entered the clearing.

  I hope this is the right choice ...

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  A few changes occurred throughout nature over the first days of their journey. A variety of deciduous trees had replaced the tall pines that once surrounded them.

  Autumn was at work with every passing day, dressing the landscape with leaves of red, orange and golden yellow. Celesia was mightily grateful for the supplies she had brought along. Possum and squirrel was a taste that she was far from accustomed to—although it smelled wonderful when Groth prepared the meals. The ogre frequently referred to himself as an epicurean with the aspiration of being a culinary artist for royalty. Hilander had tall grass to munch on just about everywhere. As for the dragon, he usually left near sundown without any notice, to go hunting for ... whatever he fancied.