With Dragons She Walks

by Darby, Brit

  He set the candle aside and returned to where Nedaxe waited, her head bowed. “When your lady awakens, tell her I wish to see her. If she does not comply, I will send Yosef to fetch her, and carry her if necessary. I have been patient, but no longer.”

  “Yes, Master.” Nedaxe nodded fearfully.

  “YOSEF.”

  Prince Oleg whispered the name yet his servant and protector was immediately alert, waiting. The Nubian fell into stride beside his master at the subtle beckoning signal. Together the two men left Cailin’s chambers and strode down an ornate corridor, one graced with everything from ancient statues and armor, priceless vases and exotic collectibles from afar.

  Yosef sensed the tension in his master and knew it was mounting by the way the prince tugged thoughtfully at his silvery beard, unaware that he even did so while they walked. It was after midnight. Prince Oleg slept rarely and only lightly when he did; no warlord might afford the luxury of totally relaxing his guard and now was no exception.

  Yosef did not have to ask where they were going. As they had each night since the foreign woman was found mysteriously adrift upon the sea, Prince Oleg paused and dismissed guards outside an elaborate antechamber. Its black marble pillars were carved with arcane symbols and all manner of strange, otherworldly beasts.

  At the flick of his master’s hand, Yosef opened the double doors and stepped aside, then followed the prince into the room. As usual, he would wait quietly in the shadows until discourse was done.

  The room was lit by braziers but still dim, moodily so. An older man with long gray hair and a beard emerged from an adjoining chamber, his dark blue robes spangled with diadems and alchemist symbols.

  “You have finished the calculations, Bashir?”

  The royal astrologer nodded, but it was impossible to tell from his expression if the portends were favorable or not.

  Impatiently Prince Oleg waited while al-Zuhri carried a black silk-wrapped item to a table in the center of the chamber. There the astrologer removed the cloth with a flourish to reveal an ornate instrument that was flat like a sundial, but had wheels within wheels and elaborate symbols around the outermost dial.

  Bashir al-Zuhri called it an asturlab, his star taker. Visiting curious nobility were simply told that al-Zuhri was a mathematician to the House of Veshchy; few suspected the truth of his role here. Only Yosef was privy to this innermost secret. Even the other servants never entered these chambers. It must be believed that Prince Oleg was a true seer, without guidance or influence from others. Thus did he keep his reputation both formidable and secure.

  Al-Zuhri claimed to have studied in Baghdad, a protégé of Abu Ma’shar, the greatest of Zoroastrian astrologers. The prince did not doubt the validity of al-Zuhri’s predictions, and now his brow furrowed as he stared at the magnificent instrument he believed held the clue to his fate.

  “It is as you feared, my lord. Her coming foretells great disaster for this house.”

  “Are you sure, Bashir?”

  “There is no doubt. The woman’s planets intersect with thine’s,” al-Zuhri said with what sounded like smug satisfaction to Yosef’s ear.

  At that moment, Yosef regretted ordering Nedaxe to quiz her mistress about her natal day so the astrologer might dabble with his charts and star taker. He saw his master start pacing, stroking his beard ever-faster now.

  “When?”

  “Soon, very soon.” Al-Zuhri was evasive, looking sly now as he petted his prized golden asturlab.

  “And the swords? What does the inscription say?”

  Al-Zuhri scowled. “I was unable to interpret their symbols, my lord, but I do not doubt their malignance.”

  “They look valuable.”

  “Valuable perhaps, but evil nonetheless,” the astrologer said, stressing the word “evil” with what seemed relish. Oleg continued pacing as he digested this news.

  Yosef did not trust the astrologer, though as a servant his opinions were never seen upon his face nor ever spoken aloud. He kept silent and expressionless even when Prince Oleg asked, “What can I do?” and al-Zuhri was quick to respond.

  “I must melt the swords in the purifying fires of Mithras, my lord. As for the woman, the danger to you grows by the day. Simply keeping her imprisoned here cannot stop the intersection of the planets. Fate spins the wheel; you must act soon. Before the conjunction of Mars and Saturn occurs in three days, she must die.”

  “YOU SENT FOR ME.”

  Oleg turned and saw Cailin standing in the doorway leading out onto the patio where he stood. She was dressed today in a plain, flowing garment of blue silk. The hem and cuffs were adorned with silver gilt thread embroidery and the tasseled belt had no gems. He imagined how lovely she might look if given proper clothing and jewels, none would compare.

  Then again, even with no adornment, her hair simply braided and hanging down her back, she was stunning. It was hard to believe such a beautiful woman’s arrival foretold his doom.

  “It does not please me that I must demand your presence,” he said.

  She did not look contrite. “I am here, as you demanded. What do you want?”

  He was astounded by her impudence. Truly, the woman was without wits, to prod his dark mood with such a defiant mien. “You are angry with me?”

  “I am disappointed,” she admitted with a sigh, “and, yes, I am angry.”

  Surely he had not heard her correctly, Oleg thought. Rarely did anyone speak to him so insolently. He should be angry himself. But she said it so softly, so surely, he was taken aback. He felt defensive. “How have I given offense? I plucked you from the sea and provided every comfort in my home. Why do you speak to me so disrespectfully?”

  Finally, he saw a spark in her eyes, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Why? Because you keep me imprisoned against my will. You have taken everything from me!”

  “It is my right.”

  “No,” Cailin moved closer, looking fearless at his proclamation, “it is not.”

  “It is unwise to provoke my temper. Your very life rests in my hands, Cailin. Do you not understand this fact?”

  “Oh, I understand. It does not make me less angry.” She whirled away and paced the flagstones, perturbed.

  “You must learn to curb your tongue. It is not a becoming trait in a woman.”

  She paused as if considering his words, then shrugged and laughed humorlessly. “I have heard that a time or two before. I will not change.”

  “You are the strangest woman, unlike any I have known. I do not know what to do with you. Men who spoke to me thusly invited death.”

  She shrugged again. “You are a warlord. You bring death to thousands. Why should you have such difficulty in killing one insignificant woman?”

  With one sudden movement, Oleg grabbed Cailin and tossed her bodily over the stone wall beside them, only a single hand holding onto her arm. She dangled in the air, the rocky cliffs hundreds of feet below. Al-Zuhri’s words rang in his head: Before the conjunction of Mars and Saturn occurs in three days, she must die.

  Only two days yet remained until the fateful conjunction of planets that bespoke disaster. Oleg knew he should, and could, easily release her now and end his worries. He looked down onto her startled face, but saw no fear, nor did she cry out for mercy. He was both amazed and infuriated.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “You are right, I am quite capable of killing one insignificant woman. Are you prepared to die, Cailin?”

  Cailin felt her shoe slip from her foot and she glanced down to see it disappear into oblivion. She should be terrified, but she was not. Looking up at Prince Oleg, she felt his muscular arm quiver from the weight he held, saw his face turn red with exertion.

  “You are royalty, none dare speak out if you murder a mere commoner. But you will know what kind of man you are. And you will forever remember the woman you hurled to death on the rocks, merely because she dared claim her rightful freedom.”

  Prince Oleg closed his eyes and Cailin thought she mus
t certainly die. Then he hauled her up and pulled her into the safety of his arms. For a brief moment, he clutched her to his broad chest.

  “Never have I known anyone so frustrating and fascinating as you, my child. I have taken the cowardly way with you, for I have not the heart to kill you, nor the courage to let you go.”

  Then he pushed her roughly away. “Begone! Get from my sight, lest I change my mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “I HAVE A GIFT for you.” Cailin held out her offering, drawing Prince Oleg’s attention to her.

  The prince’s eyes remained hooded and his face revealed nothing to Cailin of his mood. Their encounter the day before remained like a wall between them, neither certain of what to do. When he made no gesture and did not speak, she moved to stand before him. She laid her gift on the table nearest him. “I apologize for offending you.”

  His dark eyes moved from the tapestry to her, only the slightest surprise etching their depths. “You are sorry for your careless words?”

  “No,” she corrected him, “sorry merely that I gave offense. I cannot apologize for what I believe in. My destiny is mine to claim, not anyone else’s.”

  “Stubborn, willful child.”

  “I see you may yet toss me off the cliff.” Cailin’s attempt at humor failed. Neither smiled.

  He folded his arms. “What have you planned to try my patience today?”

  She gestured at the rolled up tapestry. “I doubt you will be pleased with my work. But my hands are but instruments to tell stories. The prophecies are not of my making.”

  His brows drew together as he considered what she said. “Again, I find you disturbingly blunt. But I fail to see how a mere tapestry can try my tolerance of you.”

  “Because it tells of your war against Tsargrad.”

  His face paled and his eyes widened. “How can you know of my plans? I have told no one of them!”

  “I am a Dream Weaver; no one tells me, I simply create what I see in my visions, my dreams.”

  Prince Oleg rolled out the tapestry, his hands shaking as he smoothed it beneath them. “It is not possible,” he mumbled. Then, as he studied the story, he paled even further and choked out, “It is a lie.”

  Cailin took a deep breath and went on. “As you see, the images tell the tale. In the coming summer you will cross the Black Sea with thousands of your ships and tens of thousands of men. But you will meet with defeat again as Greek Fire consumes them; fire that burns on water cannot easily be extinguished.”

  “Why would you bring me this warning? What sort of gift is the prediction of death?”

  “I wish to save the lives of innocents who would be vanquished by your pride and greed. Can you not see the futility of war against the Empire?”

  Prince Oleg gathered up the tapestry and flung it at her. “What do you know of prophecy, woman?” he thundered. “They call me Veshchy, the Prophet! I have foiled attempts to poison me because I foresaw treachery before it happened. I even thwarted the long-told prophecy that my death would come by my stallion, Abraxas. I sent him away, and later, when I heard of his death, I had his skull brought to me, to reassure me of his death and remind me that my own power of Sight is greater than others’.”

  Looking smug, he sauntered to where the skull of a horse rested upon the floor and assumed a triumphant stance. “I do not believe in your dreams. I will wage my war upon Tsargrad. I will be the victor!”

  She simply shook her head, infuriating him further.

  Kicking at the skull, he yelled at Cailin, “You cannot stop me with your witch-woman’s weaving. If an attack by sea fails, I will find another way to burst the gates of the city.” He took a deep breath as if to calm himself, then reached down and picked up the skull, stroking it lovingly. “Nothing can keep me from what I want.”

  Cailin watched him, like she would a child throwing a tantrum, and felt pity. Even she saw that foretelling his defeat was too much for this man of war to handle. Nedaxe’s innocent words and philosophical shrug came to mind … What else do kings and princes do?

  Suddenly, Cailin’s Dragons filled her mind, warning her even before she saw anything with her eyes. She leapt at Prince Oleg, his reaction seconds behind hers. Without thought, Cailin grabbed the snake slithering from the skull just as it struck out. She stilled its deadly intent before it struck his flesh, seizing it just behind the head. She captured its flailing tail with her other hand and held its writhing body without fear.

  Prince Oleg stood frozen, staring at Cailin, his pale face reflecting his shock of a near death experience. The poisonous viper was only inches from his arm, prepared to strike. Finally, shakily, he called out for Yosef, the big man taking in the scene before him with no expression.

  It was Cailin who spoke first. “Perhaps a basket with a tight lid would be useful.”

  Her grip firm now, the snake stilled. Yosef brought a basket and Cailin released it within its dark confines. “Please,” she said and looked up at Yosef. “Do not kill it. See that it is released somewhere it can do no harm.”

  It was then that Prince Oleg laughed, loud and long. Like a madman he howled. Yosef did not move, but waited for his master to direct him. When the prince had calmed, tears sparkled in his eyes from laughing so hard. He waved a hand dismissively. “Do as this one asks, Yosef. She is formidable in getting what she wants.”

  Yosef disappeared, leaving the two of them alone once again. “Now,” Oleg broke the awkward silence. “What is it you want, my child?”

  Cailin looked puzzled.

  “You saved my life, and in return, I will grant you a boon.”

  He expected her to demand her freedom but she said simply, “I would like Nedaxe.”

  Her request was a total surprise and he didn’t speak for a long moment. “Nedaxe? The slave girl? I do not understand. Why do you not ask for your freedom? Is that not what you have been wanting?”

  “But I am already a free woman by birth. Why would I ask for something I already have?”

  “I keep you from leaving, and yet you request Nedaxe as a slave?”

  “Not as a slave, rather I request her freedom. Yes, that is what I wish.”

  “I suspect you are mad.” He shrugged, feeling benevolent. “Then she is free. But you are mine. Nothing has changed.”

  Cailin smiled. “You think not?”

  “I think,” he confessed with a sigh, “one thing has changed, and that is I regret having fished you from the sea.”

  “WAKE UP, MY LADY, we must dress.”

  Nedaxe’s soft voice woke Cailin. Groggy, she sat up and pushed her hair from her face. It was still dark, dawn yet hours away. “Why, Nedaxe? What is going on?”

  “We must hurry,” was the girl’s only answer.

  Cailin felt a shiver touch her, and her Dragons whispered an alarm. Just as she was about to question Nedaxe further, the Nubian strolled into the room. Yosef started gathering some things into a bag and spoke quietly to her in his deep voice.

  “Dress warm, my lady. The night air is chilled and it will be a long ride.”

  Rising from bed, she asked, “Where am I going, Yosef?”

  “South, to the Black Sea. Come, you must hurry.”

  Yosef pushed her behind her dressing screen, handing her clothes to put on. This time it was not a gown and flimsy slippers, but sturdy and practical riding attire including boots, breeches and a long tunic and belt. She was not surprised to find they all fit her perfectly; she knew the head eunuch demanded perfection in everything the servants touched here.

  Like a child, she was prodded and guided until she was standing in the stables. Then Yosef lifted her upon a horse already saddled and waiting. The eunuch looked up at Cailin, and handed her the Dragon swords, still wrapped in the soft leather to protect them.

  “These are yours. I would ask what they are for, but perhaps it is best not to know. My master planned to destroy them, but it is clear they belong with their mistress. The stars foretold your arrival was my m
aster’s doom, but I believe fate can be rewritten, even at the eleventh hour.” Yosef glanced at the night sky and then mounted his own steed, lifting Nedaxe up to ride double behind him.

  Cailin did not reply, still somewhat sleepy and dazed by what the head eunuch had said and done. Her horse jerked forward and they rode into the night, Yosef leading her mount behind his.

  “HOW FORTUNATE PRINCE OLEG came to your rescue on the high seas. Just in the nick of time, no?”

  Cailin studied the man in front of her, lounging in his tent like a king. Dark and swarthy, she knew the sort well from working in her father’s trade: he was a Slav pirate, preying upon unfortunate victims on the seas. But he was a long way from his ship now. She guessed he and his men had taken to land to continue their raiding along the rivers during the harsh winter months.

  It had taken three long days of hard riding to reach the pirate’s lair. Yosef deposited Cailin and Nedaxe into this man’s hands and departed without so much as an explanation or farewell. Cailin assumed the eunuch used her as leverage to gain favor with the pirate. Yosef’s actions bewildered her, but she did not miss the fortress. Here she might have some chance to escape. Or perhaps not. She looked into the pirate’s glittering black eyes and was not so sure.

  “Yes,” Cailin said, replying in his native Slavic tongue. “How fortunate.”

  Ignoring the sarcasm in her voice, he took a long drink of his wine, then smiled wide. “Tonight is busier than a brothel offering pretty little virgins for the fucking.”

  If he expected her to swoon or turn away in disgust at his unseemly talk, Cailin disappointed him. She raised an eyebrow and flashed a confident smile of her own. “Yes, it sounds as if you and your men have done well. A boisterous lot to be sure. So Yosef has given us to you. In exchange for leaving his master’s ships alone, perhaps?”

  “You are smart lady.” He smoothed his mustache as his glossy black eyes studied her with an intensity that made Cailin blush. “Beautiful lady,” he added as an afterthought.