Dragon Princess

by S. Andrew Swann

  “Much as assaulting the prince of Grünwald?”

  Damned if he didn’t have a good point there.

  I kept ahead of his swings, but I was running out of battlements. The wall swung out and came to a sharp point where I’d have to turn back and meet Sir Forsythe and his sword. “Come on,” I said. “You can still rescue me. That was the original idea wasn’t it?”

  “Stand still, thieving harlot.”

  As I reached the corner, and the end of my straight-line escape from Sir Forsythe, I was gratified to see a shadow move quickly across the sky above me. I reached the corner and jumped out into the sky about fifty feet above the ground.

  Just in time for Lucille to catch me in a bruising embrace.

  As we flew away to the sound of Sir Forsythe’s curses, Lucille said, “That blond ass did call me an unclean abomination.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “I don’t understand why you’re so calm.”

  I paced around Princess Lucille, shaking my head. “We have other things to worry about.” We had come to ground deep in the forest, in a clearing caused by a long-ago fire. It was isolated from any roads, far from any observation by brigands, cultists, or would-be knights.

  “What if I hadn’t been in time to catch you?”

  “If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have jumped.”

  A draconian fist slammed into the forest floor in front of me, the force of the impact almost knocking me over. “Frank,” she snapped at me. “It isn’t just your own skin you’re risking.”

  “I—uh—”

  “You could have killed yourself, and lost me any chance—” She sucked in a breath and I saw her lower jaw trembling.

  Damn. If there was anything more disconcerting than having a dragon angry at you, it was watching one about to cry.

  “I’m sorry, Princess.”

  “You can’t die. You’re all I have.”

  “I’ll be more careful.”

  The fist in front of me unclenched, and she raised the tip of a talon so that the side of it brushed gently against my cheek. “Please.”

  I placed a hand on her talon to steady myself as I stepped back, mostly so I didn’t stumble and make it look like a panicked retreat from her. Not that I didn’t trust her. I trusted her enough to jump off a castle wall into her embrace—I’d had no choice, but even so. It wasn’t trust so much as a healthy respect for a natural weapon the size of a short sword touching me so close to my neck.

  After all, I’d just promised her I’d be more careful.

  “Fell Green,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Yes?”

  “You know the town?”

  “In a way.”

  • • •

  Lucille only knew the town because her presence in the royal court made her aware of it as a point of friction between Lendowyn and the Duchy of Dermonica, regarding which one had jurisdiction over the town.

  “Both rulers trying to claim it?”

  “No, as I understand it a war nearly broke out because Dermonica continually tried to insist it was on our side of the border.”

  “Of course . . .”

  “The legends that have it moving around by itself don’t help matters.”

  Because it would be too easy if our destination had a set geographic location. I could picture Prince Dudley laughing at us, and I found myself wishing all manner of unfortunate infections on the man.

  To make it worse, I didn’t know if the status of the wizard town of Fell Green made his assertion about Elhared’s location more or less likely. It certainly sounded like the type of place a dark mage might run to ground.

  “Do you know where it’s supposed to be?”

  “On the border.”

  “So how long is the border with Dermonica?”

  “Less than a hundred miles along the Fell River.”

  “Well, I guess that narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

  In the late morning it seemed straightforward enough. Fly out to the river and follow it until we saw the town. She had even gotten the hang of gliding along with the wind so that we felt almost still—so it was only the terrifying height that made me sick to my stomach.

  Nausea aside, it was the swiftest form of travel I had ever experienced. We covered the length of the Dermonica border in less than four hours.

  The problem was a distinct lack of any population center larger than an isolated inn or cattle farm.

  “Are you sure this is the Fell River?”

  “I know the geography of my kingdom.”

  “Then the town. Are you sure it’s on the river.”

  “I told you! It moves!”

  “Please, don’t get upset, I wasn’t trying to—”

  “It’s hiding from us.”

  “I just want to make—” I stopped.

  “What?”

  “A wizard town. Of course it’s hiding from us.”

  “Pardon? I was speaking metaphorically. We could have missed it.”

  “No, maybe it doesn’t actually move. Maybe the wizards just have it well hidden from the casual traveler, some massive enchantment to conceal its real location.”

  “Well that’s just great. How do we find it then?”

  “We look for the things they can’t hide.”

  However well camouflaged Fell Green might have been—even if it was completely invisible—the fact remained that there was no mundane town of any substantial size along this stretch of the Fell River. Apparently, the only real commerce between Lendowyn and Dermonica was in invective.

  That meant it was likely that any well-traveled roads in the area would be leading to Fell Green, since it seemed that the unseen town was the only destination of note. As the sun began setting, we found what seemed to be a likely prospect, a crossroads where three marginally maintained paths led to a wide dirt avenue cutting through the Dermonica forest in the middle of nowhere.

  “Why don’t you land there?” I pointed out a clearing close to the crossroads.

  “Shouldn’t we follow the road?”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Honestly? It—” She paused so the only noise was the rustle of wind by us. “I enjoy it. Flying.”

  “Honestly? I don’t.” I glanced toward the sunset and squinted my eyes against the wind. “I’m freezing, dizzy, and this town doesn’t sound like the kind of place best approached at night.”

  She sighed and descended.

  • • •

  Unlike other lizards, dragons apparently had substantial reserves of body heat. It probably had to do with breathing fire. So, as the sky faded to purple, I was lying against her for warmth. She curled around, chin resting on her tail so I was surrounded by a wall of muscle and dragon scale. It was actually sort of cozy in an objectively terrifying sort of way. I asked her for any more information she had on Fell Green.

  Her sigh resonated along her neck beneath me.

  “I told you all I know. I was the princess, at best I was a prop when it came to diplomacy. At worst I was a bargaining chip.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Frank, what was the price for my own rescue?”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “It never was all sunshine and rainbows being my father’s daughter. Gods. You have no idea how suffocating it was, how stubborn he is about forms and appearances no matter how bankrupt we were. The volume of rules of etiquette is so large and heavy, I still believe that they built the royal library around it when the castle was constructed.”

  “No wonder you enjoy flying.”

  I felt her chuckle rather than heard it.

  “And you wondered why I wouldn’t want to be a princess.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  She was silent a long time as I watched the stars coming out above us. There was a rustle and a large leathery wing eclipsed the sky, coming to rest against the curve of her tail and plunging me into darkness. I felt a surge of terror as my heart pounded in the sudden dar
kness, broken by her words, “Good night, Frank.”

  “G-good night,” I responded, as I realized she was providing me with a makeshift shelter. If I turned my head, I could see the sky past the top of her wing. This was probably the safest, and warmest, place I could spend the night in this forest.

  Rather thoughtful of her, actually. Even if my racing heart would have appreciated some warning beforehand.

  As I closed my eyes and tried to relax enough to sleep, I heard a rumble deep in her throat, a sub-vocalization that she probably didn’t even intend me to hear.

  “I still don’t want to be a dragon.”

  • • •

  In the morning, we took up a watch for any travelers along the highway who seemed to be going away from anything important. Or, more accurately, Lucille engaged in her newfound love of flying while I waited by the crossroads with my feet firmly planted on the ground.

  Personally, I didn’t think it was necessary for her to fly over the incoming roadways to alert me of approaching traffic; that was the point of me stationing myself at the crossroads—to meet and question them, not hide. However, since she suggested the idea, and the other option would have her staying put in the clearing so as not to scare away any merchants or travelers, I decided to indulge her.

  She’d been through enough. Why not let her enjoy what little freedom this debacle had granted her? Even if it was unnecessary.

  I watched from my position, and saw her as a small mote drifting in the sapphire-blue sky. She was so high that only a keen observer could tell her from a bird. I smiled as I watched her do loops and turns and stomach-churning dives.

  I smiled because I wasn’t with her.

  It might be her idea of fun, but envisioning myself riding her as she executed those maneuvers was close to my definition of the exact opposite of fun.

  Then I saw a small burst of light near her, and she changed direction back toward the clearing behind me. Someone was approaching, and they had come earlier than I expected.

  “I suppose I should have some sort of plan,” I whispered to myself. So far, the plan had been, “think of something when the time comes.” Now that that time had come, I realized that seemed tactically a bit weak.

  The caravan rolled into sight before I could come up with anything more substantial. The first wagon came to a stop upon seeing me standing next to the crossroads. A large bald lump of a man looked down and said, “Ho, what misfortune has waylaid such a maiden so far from civilization?”

  Unlike Sir Forsythe, this man did not radiate sincerity.

  Having no plan except the blatantly obvious, I stepped out into the road and addressed him. “No misfortune, I merely lost my way to Fell Green.” I usually had no problem faking sincerity myself, but hearing myself talk was enough to tell me that I was seriously off my game. Maybe it was because I was telling the truth.

  “That is no place you wish to go, young lady.” He delivered the admonition with a predatory grin that rivaled Lucille’s current incarnation for show of teeth. Though the dragon would win on points for having teeth in substantially better condition.

  Again I tried to find the reserve of royal command that should be hidden in this body somewhere. “Perhaps you can tell me the way and I’ll judge for myself.”

  I sounded as commanding as a four year old with a wooden sword.

  “Oh, we can do better than that.” The bald slug of a man raised his hand and, behind the lead cart, several men jumped off, weapons drawn. “If such a place is your desire, I suppose we can accommodate you. There’s always room for more merchandise.”

  As more men dismounted, the canvas covering the wagons fluttered aside, briefly revealing ranks of chained female prisoners huddled inside.

  I finally settled on a workable plan. What it lacked in originality, it made up for in simplicity.

  I ran for it.

  The plan had one fatal flaw; these guys were expecting such an eventuality. I felt a weighted rope swinging to wrap my lower legs from behind. I tumbled face-forward into the road, one of the men jumping on my back before I could roll over to face him.

  By my count, this was the third time some overly aggressive males had taken me captive since I’d taken residence in the princess’s body. I was getting tired of it.

  So was Lucille.

  The forest to our immediate right exploded into flame, sending smoldering branches and leaves blowing across the road. I heard horses scream and panic behind me as something massive thudded onto the ground ahead of us, and I craned my neck to look up. Princess Lucille faced my attackers, wings spread, talons gouging massive ruts into the roadway, mouth showing teeth backlit by a maw glowing with brimstone and anger.

  “Let him go!”

  I have no doubt that they would have done so immediately in the face of such demonic fury, if it wasn’t for the pronoun confusion. The guy on top of me just didn’t understand what the screaming dragon wanted. Unfortunately for him, no one provided him with an explanation before a scaly forelimb batted him away to tumble into the burning forest.

  Once he was off my back, I was able to turn and sit up. “I wouldn’t move,” I yelled out at the men, who hadn’t had the time to gather the wit to run. The horses drawing the wagons were barely in control, rearing and dancing and showing the whites of their eyes.

  “Do what Frank says,” ordered the dragon from behind me. The horses loved that, but it only engendered confused looks from the men.

  I pulled the rope off my legs and stood. “She means me, people. And if you all drop those weapons, no one will have to get crispy.”

  From the back, one man threw a sword at the ground with enough force that it stuck upright in the road in front of him. “That’s it. I quit.”

  The bald man looked down from his effort to keep the horses in check and said, “But, Stavros—”

  “‘But’ nothing!” He pointed at the dragon. “What idiot has us try and snag an enticingly nubile young thing left so conveniently alone on the road to a nefarious den of black magic and necromancy? One who couldn’t see a trap if he was hanging by his ankle over a pit full of stakes and shadow vipers, that’s who.”

  The other men in the entourage dropped their weapons and slowly backed away from me and the dragon. I cleared my throat as loudly as I could manage, and they all stopped moving. Then I turned to whisper to Lucille, “Can you back off a bit now? You’re spooking the horses.”

  “But—” she tried to whisper, and her objection was cut short by an equine scream of pure terror. Instead she nodded, beat her wings, and launched up into the sky to circle above us.

  One of the men stooped to start to retrieve something, and I said, “You don’t look so stupid that I have to tell you that’s a bad idea.”

  The ringleader finally got his team of horses under control. He chuckled nervously. “I suppose an apology is in order?”

  CHAPTER 15

  The only moral I can draw from this part of the story is that, if you are to engage in a career of highway robbery, it is extremely advantageous to partner with a dragon. That, and Stavros had a good point about being wary of unaccompanied nubile young women found at forest paths leading toward infamous cities of dark magics.

  I freed the “cargo” from both wagons while Lucille watched from the sky with a literally smoldering gaze. The two dozen half-naked women I unchained were very appreciative, and I received a number of hugs and kisses. I don’t think anyone has invented a language to describe exactly how confusing the sensations from that were to me at the moment.

  The men replaced the women, chained in the first cart, and the ex-prisoners got the trailing wagon to take themselves toward some outpost of civilization. I also bequeathed them most of their former captors’ weapons, boots, and clothing. I was in a generous mood.

  They also wanted to take some of their former hosts with them, including Baldy. I drew the line at that. “We’d both hate ourselves in the morning,” I said. I told them they’d have to content themselv
es with the clothes, weapons, and the chest of gold on the second wagon.

  They weren’t hard to convince.

  Once they were safely on their way back in the direction the small convoy had come, I climbed up on top of the remaining cart and took a seat next to Baldy. He kept staring up at the sky, where Lucille was doing slow circles above us. When I took my seat and looked up, she tilted her wings, almost like she was waving at me.

  I shook my head and turned my attention to Baldy.

  “So,” I said, “You were going to take me to Fell Green, now, weren’t you?”

  “You know, they don’t appreciate random strangers—”

  He stopped because I placed the point of a dagger just above his kidney. It had come from one of Baldy’s subordinates, and unlike the one I had liberated from the palace weapons display, this one actually had an edge. “Funny,” I said, “I don’t think Lendowyn or Dermonica appreciates slave trafficking.” A small red dot stained the linen shirt where I had poked him.

  “They were indentured servants, perfectly legal.”

  “Like I was going to be?”

  “Well . . . uh . . .”

  “Please don’t make me get my one outfit all bloody.”

  He didn’t put up much of an argument.

  • • •

  Baldy drove the wagon down the road for several miles. We traveled mostly in silence, because whenever the man opened his mouth he filled me with a desire to get stabby. When I thought about our destination, Baldy’s profession, and how folks like Dudley usually got their sacrifices. . . . It just reflected well on my self-control that I hadn’t disemboweled the guy already.

  After about an hour of travel, we emerged from the trees onto a meadow bordered by what looked to be one of the wider spots of the Fell River. The road headed right toward the shoreline, to a wide bridge of black stone that crossed the river. The bridge was an impressive piece of work, and out of place so far from any sign of civilization.

  I stared at the arches over the river, and the opposite shore that was barely in sight. Baldy pulled the wagon to a stop just short of the bridge. “Must be on the Lendowyn side,” I muttered to myself.