The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  Groth shrugged. “Don’t you worry—her dragon will be along any minute now.”

  Troubled by this obvious fib, Celesia turned to the ogre and whispered, “What are you talking about?”

  The ogre replied to her from the side of his mouth. “There’s really no threat here. Just play along.”

  “Silence!” Leafwater cried. “You will pay for lies!”

  Removing every trace of fear from her voice, Celesia stood and faced the elves. “Holding us here will delay our quest. Free us now or ... I will call for my dragon!”

  “Speak like that again Princess, and I will have you run through,” Leafwater replied.

  “You can’t truly expect us to believe that you’re both a princess and a dragon master, do you?” Lumberroot said. “Thanks to the curse of Ereman, there hasn’t been a princess for a century.”

  Curse of Ereman? Celesia had no knowledge of this.

  Groth looked extremely puzzled as well.

  “Hear now,” Hilander neighed. “What curse?”

  The elves laughed again. Their mirth echoed back from the forest. “You are creatures of magic, and you don’t know this?” Dewleaf asked. “The Wizard Ereman placed a curse on LaVóndia when the Royal Magical Family was murdered. It is said that every realm would persist without a female heir if ever the Magical Family was taken from LaVóndia. And if a princess should be born into this land again, it is a sign that the Alchemist has returned to finish what he started.” Dewleaf’s beady eyes scanned Celesia, cautiously. “If you are a princess of this land, we must dispose of you without delay!”

  The threat had fallen on deaf ears. Celesia was too busy trying to wrap her head around their explanation.

  Am I really the only princess born in a century?

  Did this mean Alkivar was roaming the land?

  Is this the reason why Father shut me in the castle?

  “Now then,” said Leafwater. “Our question is how to go about—” the elf paused, her eyes widening. Her face twisted, as if in shock. “Why you sneaky thief!”

  The crowd glanced about in confusion, as Groth looked over his shoulders. “Who’s a sneaky thief?”

  Leafwater pointed at Celesia. “She has our stone!”

  Several elves stared at Celesia. From the corner of her eye came Brookwind, who raised the tip of his spear to her throat. She shut her eyes and stood straight like a wooden staff. He didn’t slice into her skin. Instead, the elf raised the gemstone away from her chest, which had slipped out from under her shirt. The transparent hue of the stone sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, which faintly spilled throughout the canopy.

  “We lost it years ago,” Leafwater said.

  “How did you steal it?” Dewleaf demanded.

  “I didn’t steal it! This belonged to my mother.”

  “A likely story,” Brookwind murmured.

  “Indeed,” Leafwater concurred. “It disappeared from our glass casing years ago. I can see from here that she possesses what we lost. Bring it to us, Brookwind. I demand a looksee.”

  Celesia raised her arms to block the elf from taking her stone, but he managed to cut the chain off with his spear. He caught the jewel as it fell. “I never liked this girlie, the moment I saw her,” Brookwind snickered as he tossed the jewel in the air. “Allow me to skin her.”

  The elf approached the Tribunal and was about to give the stone when it flew out of his hand. Leafwater ducked before it could strike her in the face. The jewel soared through the air and slammed into the old tree trunk. The elves stared at the stone with horror.

  “What is this trickery?” wobbled Brookwind’s voice.

  Groth winked at Celesia. “Her dragon is upset.”

  “Enough of your dragon lies!” Leafwater bellowed. “I will have your tongues cut!”

  A terrifying roar entered the clearing above its shady branches. The dragon crashed through the treetops, and landed so hard that the elves jumped twice their height. Flint’s blue eyes shined red, like they were on fire. A jet of hot air blew from his long mouth. Celesia stood in awe. Never had she seen the dragon so outraged.

  “Dragon,” Leafwater trembled behind her chair. “Leave our realm at once!”

  “I’m not leaving without the ogre, the horse and the girl,” Flint snarled back. “You elves have gone too far.” He paused and glanced at Celesia. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m a little tied up, but otherwise fine.”

  “They trespassed here. They must pay!”

  Flint lowered his head close to the Tribunal of elves. “If you care to remember the days before the Shadow, this land was free to humans and creatures of magic alike. By bringing Princess Celesia here in hopes of proving her guilty of some outlandish law—you are the ones who have forsaken the agreement. Perhaps you need reminding of how you came into being ...”

  “Wait, Master Flint!” Groth pled, but it was no use. The elves ran off as Flint breathed fire into the air.

  The flames converged into a ring, causing a shower of embers to descend on the elves. Celesia covered her eyes, not knowing what Flint was doing. A silence followed a few seconds later, replacing the terrified screams. When her eyes opened again, the tangled knots that once bound Celesia’s wrists were undone, as were Groth’s. There was no trace of the elves. Countless tree stumps scattered the area. There weren’t nearly this many when they had first entered the Tribunal. Little pointed hats were resting on top of most of the stumps.

  “Flint!” Celesia cried in horror, afraid of what he had done to the creatures. “Was that necessary?”

  The dragon and the others roared with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked. “This is terrible!”

  “Relax, Princess,” Groth uttered, resting his giant thumb on her shoulder. “There’s no harm done, just spooked them. See the stumps?” He pointed. “When they fear for their lives, they hide themselves like that. Not a bad trick, if you don’t mind being sat on.”

  “Oh,” Celesia replied. They were only hiding, in their own way. “I thought Flint had used magic on them.”

  “They’re lucky I didn’t set them on fire.”

  “Does this mean you’re a Castor of Magic, too?” The others turned to Celesia as she pointed at the dragon. “That explains how you found the message hidden in the dagger. I thought dragons couldn’t cast magic?”

  Flint suppressed a growl. “This is the second time you’ve escaped death because of me,” he said. “Recover your possessions and come along. We’re wasting time.”

  Deciding against persisting with the dragon after what she had seen, Celesia buttoned her lip and went to collect her cloak and dagger. She pried the gemstone from the ancient tree, ever curious as to what had drawn the jewel to the tree in the first place. An unseen force held the stone against the bark and resisted her pull, much like the dagger when she had resisted it.

  When she was about fifteen feet away, the stone finally relaxed in her hand. Other than magic, there was no explanation for her mother’s possession to fly into the ancient tree like that. She wished she knew why. She rushed back to the others and walked beside Hilander. They strode in silence until they passed the hedgerow.

  “What kind of tree is that?” Celesia asked him.

  “I have not seen it before this day,” he answered. “I assume it was a source of the elves’ magic before the Days of Shadow, a source that would have been ravaged by Alkivar.” Hilander nudged her shoulder. “Be of good heart, Princess Celesia. You stood against those elves rather well. The sooner we restore the land’s magic, the sooner our worlds will have harmony again.”

  Treasuring the encouragement, Celesia looked at the stumps, wondering when the elves would return to their former selves. Without another word, she returned with Hilander to the forest lane, and rejoined the others.

  Chapter 9

  Trudging the Swamp

  The blue afternoon sky had changed to an ashen gray. Celesia held hope that it wouldn’t rain on them again.

&n
bsp; The company’s unforeseen detour with the elves had interfered with their plans to reach the swamps of Olgena by nightfall. With hardly a word spoken, they made camp a few miles short of the swamp’s border. A secluded grove of aspen trees suited them, and Groth had gathered enough wood to start a suitable fire. He dropped an armful of dry branches on the embers.

  Hilander had already fallen asleep within the alcove of a rock, which was slightly larger than him. As Celesia laid her cloak over a patch of dry leaves, she caught sight of the dragon rambling away from their camp. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to this time.

  “I can’t wait to see Olgena,” Groth said. “Been away from home for too long.”

  “Fickle dragon,” Celesia said. “Where does he go?”

  Groth turned his ear. “Fickle is a fine way of putting it, Princess.” He sounded sympathetic. “It’s easier not to question the mind of an unconventional dragon.”

  “What do you mean, unconventional?”

  “I meant nothing by it—roasted hedgehog?”

  Celesia declined the offer. “You mean a dragon with magic is unconventional?”

  Groth rummaged through one of his thick pouches. “I’m remarkably terrible with secrets, Princess, and even worse at telling lies. Those elves saw right through my carrying on about you being a dragon master, of all things. But that was Hilander’s suggestion, wasn’t it?” He laughed. “The look on their faces when Master Flint smashed through the treetops was without price!”

  “Groth,” Celesia persisted. “What do you know?”

  He looked down punitively. “I have questions of my own that I can’t answer. Why does Master Flint want me to assist him? How did he come to know about the dagger, or Ereman?” Groth sighed as he leaned back. “If Flint were a conventional dragon, we’d be dead.”

  That chilling reminder made Celesia shift closer to the fire. “I just don’t understand how Flint could’ve missed us, when we were being tied up by Brookwind. He’s constantly flying over our heads, isn’t he?”

  “Not all the time ...” Groth cleared his throat.

  She looked at the ogre. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t say what I know, but if you follow me, I may be able to show you.” After looking over his shoulders, Groth leaned forward. “Promise to keep close and don’t make a sound.”

  Leaping to the proposition, Celesia followed the ogre into an eastern web of aspens. The steady clicking of leaves accompanied them with a constant breeze. When they reached the edge of a small clearing, Groth peered through a thin evergreen bush. Beyond the parted foliage, Flint was on his hind legs, walking about with an awkward saunter in the light of a crescent moon.

  There was a concerted effort in the dragon’s stance. The easy task looked difficult for him. For the life of her, Celesia didn’t know what she was snooping at. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Groth urged her to step away. She followed him to camp, and sat by the fire.

  “You have the same puzzle piece I do,” Groth said.

  Celesia nodded, thinking of what she had seen. “I don’t understand what that had to do with anything, Groth. Many creatures stand on two legs. What exactly was I meant to see?”

  The ogre laid his head on a rock, using it as a pillow.

  “You won’t tell me, will you?” Celesia asked.

  “You need rest if we are to see the mage tomorrow.”

  Deciding not to press him further, Celesia nestled herself on her cloak, and pulled the hem over her legs to shelter her skin from the cold autumn night.

  A constant string of questions poured into Celesia’s mind, her growing curiosity making it impossible to clear her thoughts. Flint liked to walk upright. In secret.

  What could this mean?

  The crackling fire calmed her to sleep.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  Flint didn’t fly off the next day, even after they had entered the swamp. Olgena was a very different place than what Celesia had imagined, aside from what she’d studied from maps in the library. The air was thick and wet with a thin fog and a muggy odor. Leafless trees stood out of the sludge. Moss grew and vines dangled from twisted branches. Celesia also spied a pair of water snakes slithering by at one point. She never would have explored this place on her own.

  A wide smile spread across the ogre’s blue face as he recounted his fondest memories, like the time his mother taught him how to make his favorite jellies. “It’s so good to be home!”

  “If you can even call this place home,” Hilander said, suppressing a repellent neigh. “Personally, I would not mind returning to the grasslands myself. Far less chance of gathering mud on my hooves.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend a late night stroll here, for anyone,” Flint casually added.

  Celesia exchanged a troubled glance with the ogre.

  Did he see us spying on him?

  Admitting nothing, they continued their trudge into the thick swamp. Hilander was kind enough to offer Celesia a ride before they had entered, so she could arrive at their destination unsullied. They maneuvered around a spot that was bubbling with hot mud. Clouds of steam rose into the air, invading her senses with a stench that mimicked spoiled eggs. Once they were beyond the treacherous place, Groth ran for a hut in the distance. It had to be his home. The others followed, but when the ogre reached the door, he stopped. There was no door, where one should have been. Wooden fragments littered the front porch and broken entrance.

  “What happened here?” asked Hilander.

  “My house!” Groth cried. “You here, Mum?”

  No one answered. Celesia dismounted the stallion to have a look around. The door was in better shape than the rest of the furniture inside. A bookshelf was split in two, and glass shards lay everywhere. The mantelpiece was loosened, and nothing of value seemed missing.

  Shining silverware and gemstones covered the floor in a haphazard manner. The ransacked house was an eerie reminder of Celesia’s invaded bedroom. They found muddy footprints—human footprints—on the floor. A man was searching for something here. Who in their right mind would rummage through an ogre’s hut?

  Flint growled as he peeked through the doorway. “I don’t like it,” he said, sniffing at the stiff air. “There’s a lingering presence in this place. I can’t give it any other name than evil.”

  Celesia looked at him as she steadied a small table. “Evil has a smell?”

  “As does anger, or happiness,” he replied. “I can smell your empathy, right now.”

  She smiled, knowing it would do little to hide her emerging blush. He was completely right.

  Groth crashed on a broken armchair, and blew into a handkerchief. “Who would do this? We are harmless ogres. Never stolen or cooked anyone else’s pet.”

  “Your mother is safe,” Flint assured him. “I sense the fear she had when she left, but our worst fear has come to light. I have no idea why he came here, but the Alchemist is back.”

  An unsettled quiet fell upon the room as Groth kept looking about—cleaning what was in his reach. There was also a pile of misplaced manuscripts and journals that Groth gathered and examined. Flint encouraged them to hurry. Sarandretta’s wasn’t too far off. The ogre dried his eyes and stuffed a rawhide book into his pouch before leading Celesia from his spoiled home.

  “Wish I had another bag for spices,” he said.

  Throughout the morning and early afternoon, a hazy layer of moisture prevented sunlight from lifting the swamp from its unyielding overcast. Celesia was starting to feel a little hungry, but she didn’t say so. Due to the layers of mud that caked his legs, Hilander’s pace had become sluggish. Groth was understandably worried about his mother, but he soon found his optimism within the hour. Flint, on the other hand, was acting stranger than ever. He stayed close to her and Hilander at all times, often gazing about the swamp with thin eyes—as if he was looking for danger.

  Just before dusk settled over the churning waters, they reached a mound that was foreign compared to its surroundings
. There was an opening by its side—a cave into the earth. Flint lay on his stomach, and Hilander looked into the mouth of the cave with fear.

  “I won’t be able to speak with Sarandretta unless she comes out,” Flint said. “I’m much too large to fit inside this cave. The three of you shouldn’t have a problem.”

  “I am not going inside that malevolent hole!” the horse whinnied, just as Celesia dismounted. “A stallion like me does not do well in dark, closed-in places.”

  Groth fastened his belt, fitting it tighter around his gut. “Suit yourself, but just so you know, if other ogres see you waiting out here, they will want to make your acquaintance and invite you to dinner. You catch my meaning? You can’t go invisible like Master Flint can.”

  Hoof by hoof, Hilander walked into the cave. “I will not enjoy this.”

  The darkening passage made Celesia nervous, too. She had never entered a cave before. What was there to see under the ground? Groth needed assistance to wedge his way through the opening, claiming that his girth had increased since his last visit. Inside, he pulled a stick from his pouch, smote two rocks and sparked up a torch, to Hilander’s relief. Now that she could see, Celesia’s heart was also at ease. They walked along an unkempt path that led deeper under the ground.

  Their torch caused the looming cavern to sparkle ahead. Sharp stones dangled like icicles. Even in the damp chill, there was a remarkable beauty here. A few small pools rippled from the occasional drop of water.

  Hilander walked close to Celesia, practically leaning against her for support. Several unlit torches lined the walls on either side of them as they entered a straight path. Just then, as Celesia was about to ask if the mage was home, a draft soared through the tunnels. The force of it was so great that she almost lost her footing.

  Their torch blew out. Hilander made a shrill scream as bright red light replaced the draft. Celesia raised her arm to protect her face, not knowing what to expect.

  No harm came to them, or so Celesia had thought. “I cannot move!” Hilander screamed through his lips.