by Cyn Bagley
Davi bustled into the room with a tray of stew and bread. Had they been on the road long enough for Davi to grow so much was Michael's first thought. He could still feel the geas. It wasn't so strong, but still there.
Davi helped Michael to the chamber pot. Michael put a hand against the wall so he wouldn't fall down. When he had finished relieving himself into the chamber pot, Davie supported Michael back to the cot. Davi checked Michael's temperature and then held the bowl next to Michael's mouth to spoon feed him.
"I can do it myself," he growled at Davi. He grabbed the spoon, while Davi supported the bowl. He swallowed the stew and then felt fatigue. He closed his eyes for just a moment to rest them and fell into a deep sleep.
Hilda came into the room and watched Davi clean up. "Is he feeling better?" she leaned over and put her hand on Michael's forehead. It was cool to the touch. Hilda felt relief.
"He actually woke up," Davi gestured to the cot. He picked up the chamber pot and carried it outside to empty it. Hilda stayed with Michael.
It had been a long time since she had seen her brother. He had turned into a fine handsome man. Probably a lady's man. She smiled at the thought.
She sat on a three-legged stool, and pushed back the hair from Michael's eyes. He drowsily opened them and smiled. Before he could say anything though, he was back to sleep. There had to be a reason why he had traveled so hard to get to her.
The claw marks and bruises were healing finally. The sweet smell of infection was dying. She opened the window to air out the smell of sickness.
Michael's clothes were ripped and dirty. Davi had told her a little of their journey. She was proud of the man he had become. Still she wanted to hear about his travels from his own lips. There was something about Davi that worried her. He was too quiet, too secretive.
When Davi came back to the small room and placed the emptied chamber pot in the corner, she asked him, "Was Michael himself?"
Davi had that same look that most young men of his age developed. It was a distrustful, I know better than you, look. It was sly. She was ready to slap him, if he lied to her. But, he didn't. He told the truth this time. She had trained too many mercenaries to listen to lies from Davi.
"I don't know," said Davi.
"Don't know," Hilda lifted an eyebrow "or he wasn't awake long."
"The second."
Hilda didn't know much about Davi, only that he showed up with her brother. She would like to know more about this orphan. She was sure Davi wouldn't tell her. Her brother would fill her in if he could stay awake more than minutes. There were other troubles that couldn't wait like Lord Barton. She sighed.
When Hilda left, Davi put his head out the window. A raven sat on the windowsill and came in. Davi murmured to it and then the raven flew away. He watched it go, the sun glinting on its wings. The adolescent dragon were not completely cut off from dragonkind. The elders would watch over him and expect reports. He was the first young dragon in centuries to receive a journeyman assignment to watch and study the human world. The elders needed to know if the changes in the world around them were caused by the humans.
Even though dragons were mighty hunters, humans had found their weaknesses too easily. Already Davi missed Jewel. He was too young for a mate, but he still dreamed of her magnificent jeweled scales.
Hilda could have told him that even young juvenile males dreamed of sex. It crossed species.
Davi turned away from the window. It would be another long day, making sure that Michael's brain fever didn't return. When Michael was well, then he could explore and maybe soon, he would be lucky enough to capture his own castle, his own gold, and his own dragonness.
That night he dreamed of dragonlings sailing across the sky. Their necks shadowing the moon.
Delhaven, Lord Barton’s castle
Black Mage
The thick musk of dragon wafted on the night breeze to the mage's lair. In the top room of his tower, the mage had finished one of his experiments and the spymaster was tearing the corpse into pieces for disposal. The mage's mouth twisted into a malicious smile as he watched the slow dissipation of the spymaster to Draugr. Eventually when the spymaster's heart withered, then the body would wither and his damnation would be complete. The spymaster would become a spirit wafting through the castle.
The spymaster's humanity was gone and he didn't know it.
But the scent of dragon tickled the mage's nose. It overlaid the rotten smell of blood, bile, and meat. He yelled at the Draugr, pushing him to be quicker at cleaning up the experiment. The mage wanted to enjoy the heady scent of dragon, and pinpoint this intruder, who had entered his city. He could think of many ways a dragon could be used in his potions. Dragon blood was rare and precious. He even had a spell that used dragon bones. What an opportunity.
Normally he would keep this secret from Lord Barton, but this time he would need help to capture it. The Draugr was soon done, and as soon as the Draugr left, the mage slipped on his new cape, and walked down the spiral stone steps to the main part of the small castle. He wanted to skip, but he had to make sure that if any guard or servant saw him that his dignity was wrapped around him like a cloak. His plans were multi layered and in his own mind he already owned the castle and all of its minions.
If Lord Barton really knew or understood his plans, the mage's head would be on a pointed spear and displayed at the gate. Lord Barton was pragmatic about treason towards himself. But, the mage's plans were in motion. Lord Barton had disabled himself when he gave his spymaster to the mage's tender care.
The mage's plans seemed to be coming to fruition. When he got his hands on that dragon, he would have more power than any mage had handled before. Watch out then.
At the bottom of the stairs was one of the lord's guards, Norris Nettle, a long time soldier of Lord Barton. The man was not an adviser, but from his expression, he didn't think much of Barton's mage.
"The Lord expects you," he said shortly, moving to the side as the mage walked past him. The guard walked behind him. Two guards opened the door to the reception area. Lord Barton liked to sit on this ornate chair, imitating his royal betters. The mage kept the smile from touching his lips as he walked up to Lord Barton.
"Do we have the inn yet?" asked Lord Barton. It was the casual way that the lord said the words that alerted the mage.
"Your lordship," the mage said. "We are still using the tax ploy. We'll have the inn in a matter of days."
Lord Barton waved his hand at his guards. The guards grabbed the mage by the arms. The mage looked up at the lord with his face slack. He hadn't expected to be the object of Lord Barton's rage yet. He had supposed that he could wiggle into his affections without triggering Lord Barton's considerable distrust.
"Where is my son?" Lord Barton asked. His voice was a whisper that sunk into the mage. "Where is the son you promised me?"
"Wait, wait," said the mage. "You are upset about that? We have a dragon in the city."
"Nothing," raged the lord "is more important than that I secure my estate. I can't do it with daughters." He pulled out a scroll. "See? The king is asking why I don't have a wife, as if a wife could help with my problem. At the very least the king wants me to produce a bastard. He has someone else ready for the estate if I do not comply. Comply?" The man yelled in rage. "I would beat a son out of a woman if it were possible."
The mage shrugged away from the guards. "Your lordship," he said "I have an idea. It will solve both of our problems."
Lord Barton's eyes gleamed. He waved the guards away and sent them outside. He knew the mage well enough to know that anything the mage proposed would be terrible and involve blood.
Lord Barton and the mage went to the back curtains and into a small room that was sometimes used for wheeling and dealing. It wasn't always good to use the main hall where servants and allies could hear his plans and strategies. Lord Barton pulled the soft cord near his chair. A footman brought in a tray with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. The lord li
ked his whiskey more often than he should. The mage watched the footman pour a shot for the Lord, but nothing for him.
One day the footman would be part of his experiments. The mage didn't take snubs well. He cleared his throat after the footman left. The Lord took his shot, and then watched him with the expression gentlemen used when they saw a viper.
"Quite simply," said the mage. "We need to manufacture an heir."
The lord snorted. "And where will I find this paragon of virtue?"
"Your father was quite virile."
"Don't remind me," said Lord Barton. He poured another shot. "Those little bastards have been hard to eradicate."
The mage smiled. "You just find one of the bastards of the bastards and viola, you have a son." The mage could see that the lord was impressed. "So simple really."
"Do you have someone in mind?"
"Not someone, some place." said the mage. "Your father liked to go to a village outside the city. I think if we can steal the right brat, and if the mother objects, well, I have some duties she can perform." He chuckled. For someone with such proclivities, he had a nice deep laugh. He continued, "Your Spymaster would be perfect for this task."
Chapter Thirteen
Delhaven, port city
Hilda's Inn
The rain glistened on the cobblestones. Fog curled around the inn. As the days grew shorter and colder, more customers came to the inn for a bowl of stew and ale. The northern mountains had a light dusting of snow.
In the public room Hilda filled an ale mug here, and picked up a stew bowl there and caught the whispers of young men and women, who had been kidnapped. Their bodies sliced and disfigured, laying on top of trash-heaps outside the walls. The blood was drained and organs gone. One man's face was white as a ghost as he told of finding a sliced hand on the steps of his family's cottage. He was coming home from the market, so he ran into cottage to check his wife and daughter. They were spinning the wool and hadn't noticed anything amiss.
Hilda had seen these signs before on the battlefield. They pointed to a mage using the living to gain power. Other mercenaries had talked of encountering black magic. As soon as they had identified the black mages who used blood and bone, the mercenaries had killed them.
The stories of a practicing black mage in her walled city unsettled Hilda. She needed to get the the information out. Who better than her sister Mary Rose? She wrinkled her nose. They may be sisters, but they were not friends. The better term would be friendly enemy.
As the afternoon gloom deepened, Hilda wore a dress pilfered from her drudge and wrapped her hair in a cotton towel. Rooso set up a distraction so that if anyone was watching the Inn, they wouldn't see her, but they would see the drudge scurrying to the marketplace. Rooso's idea of a distraction was a brawl and the rest of the retired mercenaries enthusiastically participated. Hilda crouched and ran from the Inn with her head down. She flinched when she heard the crack of breaking wood. At this rate she would have to sell the Inn to break even.
The brothel was just outside the dock area in a quiet street. Hilda knocked on the back door, and was let in by an ugly strong man. His grin was lecherous. Hilda gave him a stare that would freeze even the worst hellion, and walked past him. The young girl behind the doorman motioned to Hilda to follow.
She led Hilda to a small back room with a small table covered in writing implements and a couple of wooden chairs. Compared to the rest of the brothel, it was sparse in its furnishings. Mary Rose was sitting at the table, scratching numbers on paper. Hilda recognized the numbers. She spent a large amount of time checking her profits with her the losses. Sometimes she had her clerk check her numbers. It looked like Mary Rose didn't need help with her numbers or her writing. Hilda felt a small pang of jealously.
"Mary Rose," Hilda said, as she stood in the doorway of the room. Memories of standing at other doorways to other rooms and talking to men who had life and death power over her made her stomach flutter. Ridiculous. It was just Mary Rose, sister, madam, and sometime enemy.
Before Hilda could speak, Mary Rose pointed to the other chair across from her table. As Hilda sat down, Mary words stabbed at her. "Michael is with you," she said. Her tone was disapproving and disappointed. They had both sacrificed to send Michael, their younger brother, to Hildenstern University for the magic program there. They both had made decisions that would take their talented brother from obscurity to a better life.
"I don't know why he left the university," Hilda said. If Mary Rose and Hilda had one thing they protected, it was Michael. "He is weak and has a young man attending him. I haven't talked to him yet."
"The rumor is that the young man with Michael is a dragon."
As a mercenary, Hilda had learned to keep her face bland, but she felt her stomach clench as if she were punched. Shock slipped past her defenses. Hilda had fought dragons close to twenty years ago. They had lost a lot of men when they had to kill a rogue dragon.
Dragons were dangerous. They were intelligent and crafty. They could fire-bomb from the skies and one dragon could take out entire regiments if the officers had never fought anything that could take to the air.
"He hasn't threatened us," said Hilda. She would be questioning the young man as soon as she got back to the inn. She felt a stab of fear. She had left him with Michael.
Hilda could smell the sweat on Mary Rose's skin mixed with a rose perfume. Just because she didn't want to listen to Mary Rose's intelligence, didn't mean Mary Rose wasn't right. A dragon in the city. She couldn't put her mind around it. There would be many reasons a dragon would want to look at this city and none of them were good.
Dragons were reptilian and their needs other than eating and procreating were different than the normal human. They needed gold dust on their skin to keep it supple and ready for flight. Some of the dragons even encrusted diamonds on their scales so that when they dived the sun would sparkle and blind their enemies.
Hilda had to admit that she had never met a dragon at peace. She had only met them on the battle field. They were horrific in their blood lust. But dragons were magnificent when they swooped and spewed fire from their mouths. Fighting dragons was costly in manpower. Cowering and finding a hole to hide was the best tactic if you wanted to survive a dragon air attack.
She could never really trust Mary Rose, but this time, Hilda needed to test the boy to see if he was a dragon. She had noticed that something about him was off. But that could be explained by being a peasant.
As she stood up ready to leave, Mary Rose asked, "Why did you come?"
"A black mage is in the city." It was Mary Rose's turn to turn white. Hilda felt little satisfaction in the encounter. A mage was hazard that neither one of them could ignore.
Mary Rose would find the black mage. Hilda had no doubts.
Since Hilda had the dragon at her inn, she needed to find out the dragon's intentions--good or evil.
Delhaven, port city
Hilda's Inn
When Hilda strode into the Inn's courtyard, the chickens were loose, clucking and scattered around her feet. The neighborhood children were running, screaming, and catching the chickens. The feathers were flying and there was chicken gum on the courtyard stones. The children and chickens were wet, but no one seemed to notice.
Davi was in the middle of the group catching chickens. When he caught one, he would carefully put it into the coop. Some of the other children were less diligent and would throw the chickens in the air and try to catch them again. It was a mess.
The penned chickens were pecking the hexagonal holes in an attempt to get out with their fellows.
"What happened," Hilda asked one of the men who was laughing in the corner.
"Oh, Davi wanted to help the cook. He was sent to get some eggs. He left the chicken wire off and presto, the courtyard was filled with chickens. The cook won't cook his breakfast until he gets all the chickens."
Hilda had to smile. Even if Davi was a dragon, he still acted like a boy. She leaned against th
e stable wall and watched until all of the chickens were contained. She was pretty sure that there wouldn't be any eggs for breakfast for a few days until the chickens had settled down.
Davi had the only two unbroken eggs in the entire courtyard. He walked to the kitchen and Hilda followed. The cook was fussing and started a pan with bacon. It wasn't minutes before there was food in front of Davi. He sat down on the wooden bench and ate with gusto.
"I didn't know you could cook anything other than stew," Hilda told the cook. "I think it is time for you to make breakfast for the rest of us."
The cook just glared, pulled out a ladle and handed Hilda a bowl of soup. Hilda shrugged and sat down next to Davi. "How's Michael?"
Davi ducked his head. Hilda could see that his bangs had grown into his eyes. She would have to cut his hair soon so he could see. His eyes were big, and she could tell that he would be a lovely man when he had fully developed.
"How old are you?" she asked Davi as he ate his eggs. The bacon tickled her nose and she wanted a taste. She controlled the urge to steal some bacon from his plate and continued to eat her stew.
He mumbled something so she couldn't hear. She thought he had said a very low number, but couldn't be certain. She didn't ask again. She let him eat until he had almost licked the plate and then she set her bowl down and led him to the stable.
"You need to meet someone." She didn't want to scare Davi, but if he was a dragon, the salamander would know since both used fire.
Hilda kept the salamander in an enclosed stove because there were so many fire hazards in a stable - hay, and more hay for the horses. She had to keep the barn slightly warm in the winter because the water could freeze in the stalls. Sassy wasn't too bright, and she was fiery so Hilda checked on her a lot. It wouldn't do to have the stable burn down around the horses. Rob also kept an eye on her secrets. Another reason he spent most of his time in the barn.
