by Megan Linski
Smok’s expression softens. His hand cups the side of my face gently, lovingly. “You look exactly like my Oleska. Same mannerisms, same voice. You even tell the same terrible jokes.”
He laughs, but it’s a hollow, void laugh. It’s not a laugh I like… I want his laughs to be loud, and full of joy.
“There’s something I wanted to give you.” He pulls his hand away… an awful, cruel thing… and rummages through his bag. From within he pulls out a small, sharpened blade with a wooden handle. The wooden handle is carved in the shape of a fire-breathing dragon, a collection of intricate runes written upon it.
“What are these runes?” I ask. I run my hand over the carvings.
“It’s your name. I’ve engraved it on this seax,” he says. He presses the seax firmly into my hands. “I grant you your freedom. You’re no longer a slave.”
“I’m… I’m free.” The groundbreaking reality hits me. As if invisible chains have been lifted from my shoulders, I stand taller, feeling light and airy. My heart, once constricted by rules and laws that are not my own, opens up and is free to beat again. I can go anywhere I want, do anything I please. I am my own woman now. A freewoman.
“Is this true?” I ask, breathless. “You’re doing this for me?”
“It was our promise. You upheld your end of the deal.” Smok’s eyes, for the first time that night, are free of suffering. They shimmer in the starlight.
“So this is what you were hiding from me. It took you a long time to sharpen and carve.” I look up. “You didn’t want to give me to the queen at all.”
“No. I didn’t.” He closes my fingers over the handle. “I wanted to make you a seax if I happened to change my mind. And I’m glad I did.”
Smok’s eyes change. The happiness within them leaves, becomes dark and tinged with grief.
Without warning, Smok grabs my wrist. I’m still holding the blade. He meanuevers it so the point of the knife is placed directly over his heart.
“End me, Fliss,” he pleads. “End me, here and now. Stab the seax into my heart, and cease its beating, I beg you.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t die,” I say. My hands are shaking. The tip of the seax quivers against his breast and draws a bit of blood. It trickles down his middle and into his navel.
“Not by my own hand, but if you do it, I’ll finally be at peace. A human is capable of taking my life, and no matter how much I fear death I would rather die than hurt you again.”
He spreads his arms wide, waiting. “I promise it won’t hurt me. It’ll be very quick.”
I swallow. Is this what he wants, truly? Does Smok want me to kill him? I look into his dark eyes and see that they’re sincere.
…Maybe this is the right thing to do. Perhaps it would be wise to end his pain. Bring a stop to all the suffering and self-loathing he experiences. He has freed me. Is it now my obligation to free him?
Then reason hits me, and I realize the truth. Taking Smok’s life won’t free him. It will only seal forever the cage he has placed around himself, and by the gods, I want to be the woman who breaks that cage.
“No.” I step away. I bring the seax down, and clutch it tightly in my palm. “I won’t.”
“Fliss, please,” he begs. I turn my back to him. “I wouldn’t ask if there was another way.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”
“Please,” Smok pleads. His voice cracks, and it hurts. “Give me one reason why you can’t kill a dragon!”
“I can’t because I am in love,” I say quickly. “I am in love with smoke. With fire. With thunder. Smok, I am in love with you.”
My eyes flash with lightening as I turn back toward him. “I won’t take your life because it would be equal to ending my own.”
I toss the seax on the ground. Smok picks it up, offering it once again to me.
“If you really are Oleska, this is vengeance for what I did to you,” he says. “Rid the world of me, of the monster I am. I’m begging you to.”
“I refuse!” I slap the blade out of his hand; it causes a cut across my palm. “Don’t ask me again!”
“Why?” His eyes well. “Why wouldn’t you do this? Why wouldn’t you take the life of a monster?”
“Because I have forgiven you,” I insist. “Whether I am Oleska or whether I am not, it doesn’t matter. I forgive you, and I know she would’ve too, because she loved you. That is the right thing to do.”
“How can you forgive me after what I’ve done, after everything I’ve done?” Smok grabs my shoulders. “It’s impossible.”
I stare up at him. “I can’t do anything but love you, Smok,” I say. “I’m not capable of anything else.”
Before he can reply, I lean forward to kiss him. The moment our lips touch, it’s relief. It’s home. The taste of smoke is fresh on his lips, sparks of flame leaping between him and I. This kiss is different from the others… it’s passionate. Loving. And it’s open to the future.
It’s him finally letting me in.
I pull away. He puts his forehead on mine, and I say, “Do not speak of ending your life ever again. I cannot bear it.” I close my eyes and let out a breath.
“I am sorry for asking,” he says quietly. “If anyone the power to love, Fliss, it’s you.”
He gives me another soft kiss on the lips. After he pulls away, I touch his lips with my fingertips, then lean against his chest.
When his strong arms encompass me, I feel lost within them. He’s a world that I could sink forever into and never want to come out of.
“What should we do now?” Smok’s voice vibrates like the roar within him. “I’m still a dragon, and am probably now stuck as one forever. I don’t foresee going back to Krakow as an option. Krakus still wants to challenge me.”
“I’m unsure.” I pull out of his arms and put a hand to my head, brushing back the tangles. “I… I need time alone. To think,” I clarify as I see his horror-struck face. “Will you let me go for a walk? I promise I won’t stray far.”
“I can only agree, since I forced you into the same situation last night. Which I’m also sorry for, by the way,” he says. “My feelings got the better of me.”
I nod. I pick up the seax on the ground and hide it within my dress.
I look to my left. There’s a small forest nearby, quiet and still. It could be the perfect place to wander. “I won’t be long. Only a few minutes.”
“If you get into trouble you need only scream, and I’ll be there,” Smok says. He starts pulling things out of his bag, to set up camp. While he’s working, I head toward the woods in silence.
I need to clear my head. Ever since Smok mentioned Oleska voices have been running rampant in my head. I hear the sea, and voices of people I don’t remember, and Zirnitra laughing and laughing. It’s driving me insane.
The woods are calm and steady. The voices start to clear out until Zirnitra’s laugh is a chuckle, then nothing at all.
My footsteps crunch through the terrain as I think. I love Smok. I’m certain he loves me. I believe we could have a happy life together. But I miss Wanda, and I want to go home.
Yet Smok cannot return to Wawel hill. If Krakow, the only place I’ve ever known, is no longer safe, then where will Smok and I go? Will I ever see Wanda again?
I stop to take a breath. I suppose it doesn’t matter. The gods will determine the path that I walk. The only obligation I have is to follow it.
There’s a crack in the woods that’s not made by me. I turn around. My stomach drops when I see a group of unknown men behind me. The sight of their coat of arms, emblazoned on their banners and on the chests of knights in suits of armor, tells me who they are.
Germans.
I open my mouth to scream for Smok, but it’s too late. Two knights grab me, pinning me to their sides. A German gags my mouth and ties a blindfold over my eyes, blinding me to the world.
I attempt to fight back, but a small girl is nothing against the strength of two very large knights. I
drag my feet behind me, to leave a trail and to make it more difficult for them to take me.
The kinghts speak to each other in rough voices. Through their complicated tongue, I catch something familiar. A name. Reinhold.
My body sags in defeat. I’ve been kidnapped by Prince Reinhold, the leader of the German people. I’m being dragged to my doom.
Chapter Fifteen
After an hour of being towed forcefully away by knights, the blindfold is ripped off of me and the gag is removed from my mouth. I’m pushed onto the ground, where dirt scuffs my cheek.
Gingerly, I sit up on my knees. I’m surrounded by Germans. There’s a man larger than the rest, who stands before me. He’s as old as Krakus is, and even more intimidating.
That’s got to be Reinhold.
An old man in a robe steps forward. He extends his hands to me. “I speak your language,” he says. His accent is clipped and thick. He can barely maneuver his lips around Polish words. “We mean you no harm, that is, if you cooperate.”
“I’m not going to cooperate.” I snarl. “I won’t let you use me against her!”
“Whatever are you talking about?” the man asks, confused.
“Don’t play games. I’m the princess’s maidservant!” I snap. “And I’ll die before I tell you how to get your filthy hands on her!”
The man looks at me. He then looks at Reinhold, and utters something. Reinhold leans back in surprise. The men begin whispering around me.
“We didn’t know you were Princess Wanda’s maidservant,” he says. “We merely believed you a Polish farm girl who could help us infiltrate Krakow.”
When I was captured, my mind immediately went to protecting Wanda. I assumed they targeted me directly as her maidservant, without realizing there’s no possible way they could’ve known.
Now I’ve told them everything. Me and my big mouth. Am I as clumsy with my words as I am with my feet?
“I still won’t help you!” I say.
“It doesn’t matter. You will aid us, one way or another.” The man flicks his fingers to me, and the knights pick me up underneath my arms. “Your usefulness will come when we march on the village.”
I kick and scream, but the knights pay no mind. The knights throw me in an iron cage attached to the back of a wagon within the confines of the camp.
They lock me inside, and walk away. No one even bothers to watch me. Obviously they believe a small girl can do nothing to get out of a locked cage.
I put my hands around the bars and gaze out. There are lines and lines of tents surrounding me, housing thousands of soldiers. Krakow can’t stand up to such a force. The city doesn’t even have half these numbers. Even worse, I’ve just given them a way in… myself.
“Absolutely wonderful, Fliss,” I mumble to myself. “Look what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”
Eventually, the candlelight in the tents dims down until the camp has gone dark. All the soldiers have gone to bed, except for a few who stand guard and speak in quiet, ragged voices.
I don’t know how I’m going to get out of here, but sitting around isn’t an option. I jiggle the door and try to wrench it open, hoping the lock will break, but it only results in a few angry yells from the soldiers in the tents nearby. Defeated, I kick the door and sit on the bare floor of the cage.
I lean against the bars. The Germans didn’t find my seax… the blade is still hidden within my dress, but a knife can’t cut through metal. It’s useless right now.
Does Smok think that I’ve abandoned him? That would be the worst possible thing that could happen. My chances of being rescued would become minimal, and even if I did escape I don’t know if I’d be able to find Smok again.
“It’s hopeless.” I put my head between my knees and try not to cry. “I’ve failed everyone.”
A strange, glowing light attracts my attention. I look up. I am astounded to see a mystical creature standing outside the door of my cage.
She has a thin, lithe body that glitters and glows underneath the pale moonlight. Her skin is a rich red, decorated with twisting veins of orange that curl up her legs, around her torso and over her breasts. They twist around to settle on her neck. She wears nothing.
Atop her head are two curling horns. Her eyes have no pupils or whites. They are a rich black, and sit atop her small nose and peaked mouth. She’s the strangest, yet the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I know without having to be told that she’s a siren.
For some reason, the siren’s light doesn’t disturb the soldiers in the tents. Maybe she’s only someone I can see.
“Why are you here?” I press my face against the bars of the cage.
“We can sense when one of our own is in danger,” the siren says. When she speaks, her voice is like a song… beautiful, haunting, and light. “Your fear called to me, and I had to answer. There are few of us left in the world now.”
“I’m not a siren,” I say. “I’m just a regular girl.”
“Siren blood runs strong through your veins. I can feel it.” The siren tilts her head, and breathes strongly. “Our race is purely female. Your mother was one of us.”
“My mother didn’t look like you.”
“We can disguise our appearance to fit in among the humans,” the siren coos. “Your voice is magical, sister. I can hear the enchantment within you when you speak.”
I draw back in surprise. The townspeople were right. So it is true. I do have siren blood.
A thought hits me, one of my parents. “Then… then was my parents’ marriage a lie?” I wonder aloud. “Did my father truly love my mother, or did she merely enchant him with a song? Did he know she was a siren?”
“I do not know.” The siren shakes her head slowly. “I only knew of your mother. I never met her personally. She was famous, among the sirens. Her voice had a magic that could carry for great distances over the mountains, farther than the rest of us.”
I think. From what I remember of my parents, their relationship seemed real. Father never appeared spellbound or enchanted from my memory, but perhaps he was.
Yet Mother was so kind, so real. I know she adored me, and cared for Father. I doubt she cast a spell on Father to make him love her.
Even if she kept this great secret from me.
“If my mother was a siren, then why did a dragon kill her?” My throat gets thick with emotion; I clear it, to try and recover myself.
“Dragons slaughter as they will, child. They do not care if you are magical or human.” The siren blinks. “They are the gods of this world. They rule over all with little concern for those who are not their kind. Even among themselves they fight and kill. Dragons do as they please. Your mother was simply in the path of a dragon’s rampage, and wasn’t fast enough to escape it. You must accept this.”
I bite my tongue, to avoid asking more questions. I don’t have time to wonder about my parents right now. Both of them are already gone. Wanda’s still alive, and in danger.
“What can I do to escape?” I ask. “I’m not strong enough to break the door.”
“You have the power to escape the cage, sister,” the siren whispers. “I am here to teach you how.”
The siren looks at the lock. “Focus your voice on the mechanism. It will open for you if you sing the right song. Nearly anything is within your power, if the song is the right one to sing at that moment.”
“What do you mean? I’m not magical,” I insist. “My voice has never done anything except make people listen.”
The siren smiles. “You have much to learn about your gift,” she says. “Merely trust me. I promise you have the ability to do extraordinary things, if you make the attempt.”
I sit back and think. Very well. If she thinks I can do it, might as well try. I only have to choose the right melody.
There’s a song I know about a lock maker. Perhaps that’s the one.
The siren stares on. I drop my voice to a low note. Softly, so the guards don’t hear, I
begin to sing.
“Lock maker, lock maker, make me a key,
That will open all doors,
And provide me to see.
Lock maker, lock maker, show me the way,
To sneak into houses,
In the bright of clear day.
Lock maker, lock maker, won’t you break the locks,
That will open the cages,
And release all the stocks.
Lock maker, lock maker, make me a key,
That will open all doors,
And provide me to see.”
At the end of the song, the lock clicks. My mouth drops open. I push the door and find that it swings open. I did it! I unlocked the gate!
When the door opens, the siren nods to me.
“I shall be nearby, should you need help,” the siren says. “I’ll take refuge within the trees. My eyes won’t leave you until you have escaped the camp.”
“Come with me,” I say. “We can make the journey together.”
The siren shakes her head. “I cannot follow. My magic binds me to these woods, and thus prevents my leaving them.”
“Thank you, then,” I whisper. “For helping me.”
The siren floats away. She drifts like a ghost upon the wind, through the tents of the soldiers and toward the forest.
Quietly, I attempt to climb out of the cage. My leg smacks against the door, making a loud sound. I wince, but nobody wakes up. Relieved, I climb out of the cage and jump to the ground.
I start running throughout the camp silently. I need a horse.
I find a few of them gathered on the outside of the camp. One of them is still hitched up to a wagon. Knowing that there’s no hope in me riding, I grab the bridle of the horse hitched to the wagon and start leading him away.
Abruptly, I pause. I look to my left, then to my right. Where exactly am I going? The area is somewhat familiar… this is the land where I grew up. Krakow lies directly to the south. The Baltic Sea is behind me, to the north.
I look both ways. Do I head to Krakow to warn Krakus and Wanda, or do I head back to the Baltic Sea to look for Smok?
