Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  “That should have ended the war,” Camilla said.

  Robin shook her head. “It made his son become crowned a king. He’s been searching for every clan member he can find. Killing your family was only one of the slaughters of the clan. There were others, hushed and only whispered about. The King’s biggest fear is a dragon catching him in the open and flying off with him. There are rumors he has those dreams to this day.”

  Camilla sat taller. “Do you think he fears red dragons? Like the one that touches me when it flies near me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He should,” Camilla said, her jaw set and her eyes flashing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Edward eased another step closer to the camp on the side of the mountain where three people lay sleeping beside the small fire. He’d waited until the moon set, which seemed like half the night, but the sky was clear and stars spread a million pinpoints of light to see by. Should I take out the old woman or the boys, first?

  The knife felt awkward in his hand, but the blade was long and sharp enough to slash three throats before any fully awoke. The woman didn’t matter. She was a simple washerwoman. He’d come for the dragon boy. Since he didn’t know which of the two boys was his true target, both became targets. They lay sleeping side by side, a short step apart. He approached from the cover of the tree near the tops of their heads. A single slash might kill both. He would drop to one knee and sweep the knife left to right across their throats, and then back again. Cut each neck twice, to make sure.

  He ignored the old woman for now. He’d contend with her after—hopefully within a few heartbeats. By the time she woke and realized something was wrong, he would be cutting her throat, too. Then he’d confirm the dragon mark on the boy. He didn’t plan further than that.

  Another step closer. Sweat made him feel damp despite the chill, and his hand shook. One more step and he’d drop to his knee and slice with the knife in almost a single motion. He ran each part of the planned action through his mind until he knew precisely what to do. He took another careful step.

  Pain erupted from below his knee. His left leg shot out from underneath him, leaving him precariously balanced on one foot. Then pain exploded from his other leg. Edward dropped, the knife flying from his fingers as he grabbed for his shins and howled, lying on his side.

  The sleeping figures leaped to their feet, one holding a sturdy stick raised to strike him again.

  “No,” He wailed, raising an arm to protect himself.

  The old woman turned to look in the grass where he’d tossed the knife. She returned her gaze to meet his. Without any warning, she kicked him in the chest.

  The boy held a staff raised high. He swung it down right after the kick. His chest was already hurt, and a crack sent waves of pain shooting up Edward’s arm. The pole had struck him on the point of his elbow, and besides the intense pain, his fingers failed to open or close. “Enough. I surrender.”

  The woman placed a foot on his shoulder and shoved him until he rolled over, so he lay like a turtle on his back, his left arm dead and his legs painful enough to bring more tears.

  “Who are you?” the woman snapped.

  “Hurts so much . . .”

  “Try to pop him on his kneecap, this time, Camilla. Hit him a good one, girl.”

  “No,” he rolled partially over, trying to protect his knees.

  “Who are you?” she asked, again.

  “Edward, son of the Earl of Witten.”

  The old woman turned to search the surrounding area. As she did, she said, “Who’s with you?”

  “Just me.”

  “You would not travel alone. Who? The Weapons Master and Slave Master?”

  He looked up at her, giving the impression he was a wayward puppy talking to his mother. “Just me,”

  She said, “You came to kill us.”

  “No, just the dragon boy.” His eyes went to Brix.

  “You planned to kill us all,” She repeated.

  He rolled and sat, cradling his arm, tears streaking down his face. He looked directly at Brix and set his chin. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Give him to me and you two can go free.”

  The old woman snorted. “We’re already free. It’s you that has a problem with going anywhere.”

  “Gold. I offer you gold for the boy.”

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off Brix. He had obviously decided Brix was part of the Dragon Clan, and neither corrected the son of the Earl. The woman asked, “You have gold with you?”

  “In my purse.”

  She fingered his knife, running her thumb along the blade, and went to stand beside him. She bent over and sliced the strings of the purse instead of untying it. She dumped the coins into her hand and looking at Camilla. “Girl, this is more than I’ve seen in my lifetime, even if you add it all up, the coppers I’ve seen pass through my fingers for doing the cleaning for others.”

  “It’s all yours if you give him to me.” Edward still kept his eyes locked on Brix as if looking anywhere else might allow him to vanish.

  Brix said, “She can’t give you what she doesn’t have. Robin already took your gold, so you can’t give it to her. Camilla looks ready to beat you with her staff. But let me tell you how really bad you are at making bargains.”

  Edward tested a leg to stand, a scowl on his face as he realized they intended to keep his gold and give him nothing in return.

  Camilla flicked the staff she leaned on, and the lower end swung a few inches. It struck him on his shin again, making an odd, hollow sort of sound. He fell backward, wailing even louder.

  Grinning, Brix spun around and flipped up the back of his shirt, displaying skin devoid of birthmarks, let alone those shaped like dragons. “As you can see, I’m not your dragon-boy, and it’s obviously neither of these two women is a dragon-boy.”

  Edward shook his head in confusion. “Then, who are you?”

  “We’re just sheep herders going to help an uncle with his flock,” Brix said with a sly smile directed only at Camilla and Robin. He pointed, “With my sister and mother.”

  Edward hung his head and closed his eyes. After drawing a few deep breaths, he raised his head and looked directly at Camilla. “You’re not going to believe me, but I thank you for preventing me from slitting your throats. I honestly believed you to be someone else, and I would have killed all of you, only to find you’re not whom I seek.”

  Brix stepped in front of Camilla and said, “Why do you chase that boy?”

  “King Ember ordered it.”

  “Are there more who he might send to chase us, thinking we are someone else?”

  “Two men. Trusted aides of the King and also searching for the boy.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Behind me, I think. I don’t know if they’ll find where you left the road, but if they do, they’ll believe you’re the one we seek.”

  Brix exchanged looks with Robin. She nodded to him for a job well done.

  Edward stood and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be sore for days, but guess I deserve it for not making sure of who I was attacking.”

  The old woman handed the knife back to Edward, along with his purse. “People do make mistakes. You can help us by going back on our trail and if you meet others tell them we are not who they are after. We don’t want to awaken with others trying to murder us.”

  Edward’s eyes fell on the knife and purse. He tossed the purse up a few inches and caught it. “This doesn’t feel any lighter.”

  “It’s not ours to keep.” The woman said.

  “If you did, who would know?”

  The old woman snorted, making sounds like most mothers do at times with their wayward children. She waved a hand in their direction. “What sort of example would that make for them? No, I’ll raise them the right way and try to set an example. Now, good sir, I hope you will not take offense, but we would like you to leave us.”

  “Leave you? In the middle of
the night when it’s so dark? I can hardly see.”

  She drew herself up, looking taller. “You already tried to murder us in our sleep once tonight. You saw well enough then. We will appreciate it if you leave us now. Forgive me for not trusting you.”

  Edward tried to think of words to express his feelings. There were none. He nodded and turned, his knife in one hand and his purse the other. The stars provided enough light to locate the path, and he walked away, grateful he had not made the biggest error of his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Weapons Master took the lead. The Slave Master followed. The darkness was falling, but they used the moonlight to illuminate the way. Footprints in soft areas showed at four people ahead. Watching the footprints revealed a lot. One never stepped on sticks or slippery rocks. Every foot was placed where it would find the best footing, a skill learned over time.

  The two other sets were slightly smaller and less cautious, like older children or young adults might make. The last set was made by expensive boots that stepped on slippery rocks when dry footing was there at the cost of a longer stride. Twice they saw where he’d stumbled while stepping on, rather than over, a fallen log. Once they saw where his knee had left an impression, telling of a near fall—and also of an inexperienced man traveling fast.

  “We’re gaining,” the Weapons Master commented.

  “I hope we overtake the idiot-child Edward before he catches up with them.”

  “Scared he’s going to spook them?”

  They continued on the path in silence until the Sword Master finally answered, “No, I just don’t want to face the Earl if we let a dragon slay his son.”

  “That is a possibility. If that’s a true member of the Dragon Clan and he calls down a dragon the Earl’s boy won’t stand a chance.”

  “Neither will we if it spots us.” The Slave Master couldn’t help glancing up at the empty sky. The snow-capped mountain directly ahead drew his attention, again. “I wonder if that mountain is a rookery for dragons.”

  The Weapons Master shook his head. “Too cold. Dragons like warmer climates.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  Instead of answering, the Weapons Master picked up the pace. He also glanced at the sky more than once and kept Bear Mountain directly ahead. Why are they heading for the mountain?

  After crossing a small stream, they paused to look at the tracks on the mud bank. Four sets, for sure. Edward’s trampled the others, telling us that he followed. The tracks told he’d passed the stream earlier, but he was still much further ahead.

  “I think we should rest until dawn. We can’t go on without sleep,” the Slave Master said. “Besides, the moon is setting.”

  “We push on.”

  The night became darker. The moon provided enough light to follow the path the others had traveled, but just barely. When they came to the base of the mountain with the jumble of rocks and boulders to cross, they slowed. There seemed no way around. The Weapons Master took the lead, again. He had traveled almost half-way across the talus field when a boulder shifted under his foot.

  The Weapons Master felt the boulder move slightly as he placed his full weight on it, and then it rolled. His foot went with the boulder. In an instant, he was doing a fair imitation of his niece doing the splits—but his leg continued stretching out, the foot trying to find something solid. The rubble shifted with the boulder, and even his other foot began to slide.

  The Slave Master attempted to grab his arm and missed.

  The Weapons Master lost all sense of balance and rolled until coming to an abrupt stop against another huge boulder.

  “Are you alright?”

  Holding his bloody forehead in his hands, the Weapons Master tried to stand. Pain shot through his ankle. He fell on the rocks, again, moaning.

  The Slave Master made his way down the slippery and shifting rocks to his side. “Hurt?”

  “Ankle. Twisted, not broken. I think.”

  In the moonlight, the Slave Master saw the glint of tears. “I’ll get you back down in the morning. But we can’t afford two turned ankles, so we stay here until dawn. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Without words, they braced themselves against boulders, some as large as small rooms and wriggled their bodies in the loose rocks until they were semi-comfortable. The Weapons Master muttered, “I should have listened to you.”

  “Get some sleep. We’ll figure out what to do when it’s light.”

  They closed their eyes and were near sleep when the sound of tumbling rocks alerted them to an intruder approaching. A short while later more rocks shifted, closer. A quick glance between them served instead of words. Both drew knives and waited.

  The sounds of rocks shifting and tumbling told them where the person was. He was returning on the trail they followed, so it was probably one of the four. Which one came their way didn’t matter. At the hands of experts in making people talk, they would tell all. Both the Weapons Master and the Slave Master considered themselves experts.

  The approaching figure appeared from the dark dimness of the background of rock and forest. He moved almost on fours, like an animal, but when he moved closer, the form took the appearance of Edward, who was doubled over, hands helping him move, almost like a toddler moving across an unfamiliar floor.

  Barely ten steps away, he seemed to sense others. Perhaps he heard a small sound, or maybe smelled them. He paused, stood and looked around. “Who’s there?”

  The Slave Master snarled, “Hello, Edward.”

  He turned to face the voice, standing taller and finding he no longer feared these men. “I am here at the orders of the sheriff.”

  “And we are at the service of the King.”

  “I suspected. We’ve been sent on the same mission. I regret to inform you that none of the three ahead is who we seek.” He took a few tentative steps closer.

  “You know that, how?” the Weapons Master asked, his voice smooth as butter.

  “I saw the back of the boy. There is no mark on him.”

  “There are three of them,” the Slave Master said, making no attempt to hide his impatience with Edward.

  Edward ignored the tone. People would get used to his new attitudes. He sat before the other two. “There is an old woman. I think she is the washerwoman from Nettleton. Far too old. And there’s a girl, her daughter.”

  “You saw the bare back of the boy. What about the girl?” The Slave Master asked.

  Edward looked confused.

  “Did you see the bare back of the girl? She’s about the same age as the boy, right?”

  Edward stammered, “I-I was sent to find a dragon-boy.”

  The Weapons Master snorted. He did not sound happy.

  The Slave Master leaned closer to Edward. “Biology. At least half of the Dragon Clan are women. Did you see anything that would exclude the girl from being one of the clan?”

  Edward shook his head, remembering the girl had struck him with the staff. She had been the one to wake and drop him, as well and hit his knee with her staff. The boy had said almost nothing until he displayed his back. In retrospect, the boy had almost been acting like a peacock, drawing attention away from the girl. I don’t think I’ll tell them she was the one that defeated me.

  “Well? Did you see any reason the girl can’t be the one we’re after?” the Weapons Master echoed the other’s question.

  Edward had the sinking feeling that he had made a mistake with the three ahead, or they had made a fool of him or some of both. “They set a trap at the edge of the forest up there and beat me with their staff. I barely managed to escape with my life. I’ll be limping for days. I was only with them until they told me to return to Nettleton and seek medical help.”

  “You didn’t seem to be limping when you crossed that scree on the slope.” The Slave Master said.

  Edward pulled up his pant leg. “Look here. No, you can’t see it in the dark. Feel my knee and ankle.”

  The Slave Master reach
ed out.

  Edward yelped in pain, just a little louder than intended.

  “That’s quite a lump. They beat you with a staff?” The Weapons Master asked, his voice smooth and silky, again.

  “Yes. They sprang at me, all three carrying staffs. I couldn’t protect myself.”

  In the same easy manner, the Weapons Master continued, “That must have been something. They take you by surprise and beat you, and then for no reason the boy shows you his bare back, and they release you?”

  “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds unlikely.”

  “Edward,” the Weapons Master said in the same tone, “Did you know that staffs are the favorite weapons of the Dragon Clan? They practice attacking with them endlessly until they can defeat even the finest swordsman.”

  The Slave Master duplicated the tone of the other master. “You might also want to know and understand that the position of Slave Master requires one to discern lies in an instant, even half-truths and evasions. It’s simply part of my job. I am very good at it. That is why the King appointed me so many years ago, and why I am still the Slave Master.”

  Edward swallowed, hard.

  “Would you like to begin our conversation again? From the beginning?” the Slave Master asked as he drew his knife from his waist and began cleaning his fingernails.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Camilla waited until the Earl’s son retreated far enough away so he couldn’t overhear her. “He seemed a nice man. How long before he finds out?”

  Robin shrugged. “When he meets up with the King’s men they’ll listen to his tale and understand he should have looked at your back, too. Then they’ll know they’re on the right track.”

  “What about my back?” Brix asked, looking and sounding disappointed in their reaction, or more probably in their lack of admiration for his quick thinking in proving he was not Camilla. “He was so upset he said he was sorry.”