Dragon Enchanted

by Isadora Montrose

  She sniffed the air delicately. “Yes, you do. You could swim in the ocean as you did yesterday. Or wait until it rains.”

  “Or you could provide me a bath, elven princess,” he rejoined in a spirit of devilry.

  “If you wish.” She waved that needle of hers around. A steaming tub appeared beside his bedroll. A deep man-sized tub. This was no pixie pot. “Go ahead,” she said cheerfully.

  “Thank you,” he said gravely. It was bliss to get clean, even if there was no soap. Banding chicks was not work for the fastidious. Chicks were not housebroken. Accordingly, they leaked from both ends.

  All through his bath he felt her curious eyes on him. He dressed hurriedly, somehow feeling that he was providing entertainment he had not intended. She produced a bath towel from thin air, and made his bathwater disappear. She sat primly with folded hands looking expectant as he dressed.

  “We need to talk,” he told her.

  “Two heads are better than one,” she agreed, nodding.

  “But first I need to eat.” Breakfast had been a long time ago.

  “What would you like?”

  “Are you going to cook?”

  “I don’t know how. But I can conjure food that is fit to eat.”

  “Surprise me.”

  She waved her needle again. A table appeared. And a stool. She waved the needle once more. A steaming dish and a silver cup materialized. He sat down.

  “Won’t you join me?”

  She fluttered over and perched on his shoulder. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He swallowed a mouthful of succulent roast pork and cloud berry compote. “Let’s start with what you’re doing on this island.”

  “When King Erriki took his court west, the pilot refused me passage. I had to remain behind while all my kin sailed west. Since I was the only one left, I protect the trees.”

  “These are the oldest trees in Finland,” he said. “You have kept a great treasure safe.”

  Her tiny face screwed up. “What is this Fin Land?”

  “That is the name of the country that owns this island. My country.”

  Something pinched his ear. “I own this island.” Another pinch. “Are you the king of this Fin Land? Or the king’s son?”

  He covered her with one hand. “No violence, Zofie. I am neither the king nor his son. I am the Greve of St. Peder, or the Count if you prefer, but it is an empty title. Finland is a republic. Now, will you promise to stop assaulting me?”

  She huffed. “I didn’t even hurt you. You let those devil birds peck you without even raising a hand.”

  “They don’t know any better. They thought I was stealing their babies. I can’t have a wife who batters me.”

  “I am not your wife!”

  “You will be.” He set her beside his goblet. “What have you given me to drink?”

  “Mead.”

  He took a sip. It slipped down his throat like sweet, liquid fire. “Could you make it water, Princess? If I drink all this, I won’t be able to remember my name, let alone figure a way out of this mess.”

  A second goblet appeared. “I thought all you Northmen drank mead,” she said.

  “Beer and milk,” he corrected. “And schnapps.”

  “I remember milk,” she said dreamily. “The king had a herd of reindeer that were milked twice a day.”

  “Nowadays, we mostly drink cow’s milk.” He gulped water. It was the best water he had ever tasted. “What is in this?”

  She sat down on the table top and leaned on her needle. “Dew.”

  “Ah.” Who knew dew was delicious?

  “How can this Fin Land own my island?” she asked indignantly.

  “Things change in a thousand years, Princess. You should be glad to learn that this island is considered a sanctuary. No one may come here without permission. And no trees may be cut down.”

  “I know,” she said smugly. “Until the gray-beard came, no mortal had set foot on my island since Jörmungandr the pirate.”

  “The gray-beard?”

  “The giant who usually counts the birds.”

  “My cousin. His name is Noah.”

  “Is he also a dragon?”

  “No. He is just a man. A learned man. Not especially tall for a Finn. He has permission from the Finnish government to conduct a study of the breeding habits of the black-legged kittiwakes.”

  “Kitty wakes?” Her laughter was like silver bells ringing on Christmas morning. “Is that your name for those gulls? They are indeed loud enough to wake the cats of the goddess Freya all the way in Valhalla!”

  “It is.” He finished the last of his dinner and drained his cup of dew. “So, you are protectress of this island.”

  “Of Misty Isle,” she said firmly.

  “Misty Isle. An appropriate name.” Better not explain about S385614. It would just set her bad temper off again. “Why did the pilot refuse you passage with the other elves?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have all the time there is, Princess.”

  “Are you still hungry?”

  “No, and I thank you for saving me from freeze-dried mush. That was an excellent meal.” He ate the packaged meals provided by Noah, but no one could pretend they were appetizing.

  “You’re welcome, sir.” She made the table disappear. But not his stool. She vanished and reappeared on his knee. “I think I need to tell you first about Jörmungandr and the Princess Alexandra*.”

  “Go on.” He took a cautious sip of mead. It was as silky and as potent as the first had been.

  “I am the daughter of the king’s brother. Alexandra was the king’s daughter and the apple of his eye. Lexi and I were as close as sisters. Closer. We played in the groves together and learned the lore and dances of the elves together, as sisters do.”

  “Lexi being the Princess Alexandra?”

  “Her mother and I called her so.”

  “And you are King Erriki’s niece?”

  “Niece? That is a new word. What does it mean?”

  “The daughter of someone’s brother or sister.”

  “Oh. Niece. I must remember that. Where was I? The princess was the king’s only child. In those days, Misty Isle was much longer and not an island. That was later, when I alone was left to defend Odin’s trees.”

  “Misty Isle used to be attached to the mainland?”

  “Yes. The king made a causeway for his courtiers to ride down, so we could hunt on the mainland. And in those days there was a harbor where the king kept his ships. And on the green hill that faced the mainland stood the king’s palace. And then the pirates came. They pretended to be friendly. Jörmungandr won the heart of Princess Alexandra. He deceived her with kisses and promised to make her his wife.”

  He hid his smile. “And then what happened?”

  Zofie sighed. “Lexi gave Jörmungandr a betrothal gift. The ring of Rothgar that was not hers to give. He took it and abducted her. He intended to make her his bed slave.”

  “Why not marry her?”

  Zofie shook her head. A tiny frown marred her brow. “I think he already had many wives. When King Erriki learned that Jörmungandr had the ring of Rothgar he demanded the return of both ring and daughter. Jörmungandr asked for the princess’ weight in tribute before he would release her. King Erriki raised the tribute. He asked for my ring to form part of his daughter’s ransom.” She stopped and took a shaky breath.

  “Go on,” he whispered.

  “When he received the ransom, Jörmungandr laughed at the king, and flew away to join his ships. He wanted the treasures of the elves and the princess too.”

  “A most deceitful and unprincipled villain.”

  “I believe that is the case with all dragons,” she said sweetly.

  The vixen. “So this Jörmungandr was a dragon?”

  “And a pirate.”

  “That must have been long ago.” As in the Dark Ages, when dragons reduced Europe to darkness.

  “A thousand y
ears ago or more.” Sophie wrung her hands. The needle had vanished. “The king raised the sea against the pirates and the waters engulfed their ships. They threw the princess overboard, and the king snatched her from the sea.”

  “So all was well?” he asked.

  She shook her black curls. “Before he sank the ship, King Erriki threw the dragon pirate from the sky and drowned him. Thus the ring of Rothgar was lost forever and all the treasures of elvendom with it.”

  “Including your ring?”

  “Including my ring. And when I wished to go west, the pilot demanded it as the price of transport. I had it not, so he left me behind.”

  “Wouldn’t the king your uncle intervene?”

  “It did no good. The pilot only said, ‘It is not your fate to sail today, Zofie, daughter of Ulrik’. The others boarded and only Lexi and I were left behind.”

  “So you had a companion,” he said.

  She shook her head again. “King Erriki was so angry with her for giving the ring of Rothgar to a thieving dragon, that he imprisoned her in a tree on an island a full day’s journey from his realm. I have not seen her since that dreadful day.” Her grief was plain in her voice.

  He kept his thoughts about the tyrannical and cruel Erriki to himself. “And none of the others ever came back from the west?”

  “Once you go, you cannot return. That is why I must go to them.”

  “Are you sure they are alive?” he asked. A thousand years was a long time. And he would eat her needle if it was not a euphemism for death.

  Her head came up. “Elves are immortal. Of course they are alive.”

  “But if they are dead, do you still wish to go west?”

  Her jaw set. “How could they be dead? Elves do not die. Unless they are killed in battle. Many elves died defending Princess Lexi. That was one reason the king was so angry with her.”

  “I see.” No point in arguing with her about the meaning of sailing west. “One thing puzzles me. You said that the dragon Jörmungandr offered marriage and kisses to your cousin. How was such a thing possible? Was he not as large as I am and she as small as you?”

  * Dragon’s Christmas Captive

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zofie~

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “I am not small. You are oversized.” How she longed to jab him, but something stayed her hand.

  “How come Jörmungandr and Lexi did not have the same size difference you and I do?”

  She frowned at him. “I don’t remember,” she admitted. “The dragon and his retinue feasted with the king. They ate and drank at his table. That was where he spied the princess. So he must have been much the same size as we elves. Have dragons gotten larger since the world was young?”

  His beard twitched. He was laughing at her. “I think you’ve shrunk, Elf.”

  She hadn’t actually promised not to stab him, but despite her fury she did not summon her lance. Somehow the ring prevented her. “Me?” Her voice rose in disbelief. “How could such a thing happen?” She looked down. No, she was just as she had ever been.

  “That I don’t know, Zofie.”

  “I’m the same size I always was,” she assured him. Surely she would know if she had been shrinking? It was just as she had suspected. He was deranged.

  “How do you know?”

  “Elves don’t change.” She was horrified at the idea. She peeked at her hands. They looked as they always had. Plump and tipped with pink nails. “I’m exactly the same.”

  “If you were smaller, how would you know?” he asked again. “What would you measure yourself against?”

  “My lance.” She shook it at him.

  “It comes and goes. It’s probably shrunk too.” He grinned as if he had just solved the mysteries of the universe.

  She jumped to her feet. She nearly rammed her lance into his thigh in her anger at his teasing. Again the ring stayed her hand. “Of course, I haven’t shrunk. How could such a thing be possible?”

  “You tell me how else Jörmungandr could have seduced your cousin with kisses? I assume Lexi was the same size as you?”

  “She stood eye to eye with me,” Zofie admitted. “Although she was the younger of us. And when we walked arm in arm, our steps matched.”

  “Why didn’t Jörmungandr kiss you?”

  “I had more sense than to peep at a mortal named for the serpent that encircles middle earth!”

  “You should have warned your cousin to be wary of the world worm,” he said.

  “I know,” she said sadly. “The king said so too. But I was too busy staying out of sight.”

  “It’s all water over the dam now, my dear.” He held out his hand. “It looks as though we have only to restore you to full size and our problems will be over.”

  “I like myself just the way I am,” she said through her teeth. “And I am as big as I am meant to be!”

  He brought her up to his nose. “I couldn’t seduce you with kisses,” he said regretfully. “You are too small to be kissed. Wouldn’t you like to be big enough to be kissed?”

  “Certainly not!” Although his coaxing tone made something wistful uncurl in her belly.

  He took her across to his bedroll and set her on the closest branch. He stretched out full length. Without so much as a by-your-leave. What kennel had he learned his manners in? Or was this how the Greve of St. Peder treated his bed slaves? At least she was too small to be used so. And she ought to have better sense to be sad that was the case.

  He folded his arms behind his head. “Tell me what you do for fun?”

  “Fun?”

  “For entertainment?”

  “During the day we sailed our boats up and down the coast. Or rode to hounds. In the evenings, we played games, and listened to the bards singing and the skalds reciting. Often there would be dancing.” Her voice faded away as she remembered those long-ago pleasures.

  “I meant, nowadays. What do you do here all alone on Misty Isle?”

  “I check the saplings. Make sure the rocks stay sharp and the sea low. Keep the squirrels from digging up the seedlings. Watch the sky.”

  “And for pleasure?”

  She glared at him. She had no pleasures and it was unkind of him to ask. “Skip stones. Or dream of the old days. And sleep.”

  “A thousand years of dreaming and sleep!” he said in astonishment. “Are you not bored, Princess Mine?”

  Out of her skull. “Why do you think I wish to rejoin my kinsfolk?” she asked.

  “If you marry me, you can have a horse. Or at least a pony,” he said.

  As if she were a child to be bribed with toys! “I had a mare. Her name was Silvershadow. She was dappled like the forest floor at midday. And as swift as a fox.”

  “What became of her?” he asked softly.

  Her eyes were full of tears. She brushed them away sternly. “I don’t know.” She looked around the clearing as if her horse might yet be grazing there. “That was years ago.”

  “If I didn’t know better, Zofie, I would swear that you had been asleep and dreaming for the last ten centuries.”

  “Sometimes I sleep so long that I fear that one day I won’t wake up.” She clapped her hands over her mouth astonished at what he had made her say. “You are a wizard,” she accused. “And you have bespelled me.”

  “Just a dragon lord, your highness. I have a little magic at my disposal, but not enough to enchant an elf-maid. You are a maid?” he asked.

  “I have never taken a husband,” she said stiffly. What a question!

  “Or a lover?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Good to know. Now, Princess, I am weary. I slept little last night, and today I climbed up and down the cliff all day. Will you finish your story before I sleep?”

  “I have told all I know!” she protested.

  “Tell me of Jörmungandr. Of his death.”

  “Oh. That. The king commanded the sky to storm and the sea to rage. And when Jörmungandr fell out of the sky and was d
ead, or maybe before, King Erriki cursed all his line. Or so they said at court,” she finished doubtfully. “I wasn’t with the king’s army. But the ones who came back reported this tale.”

  “He cursed the pirate,” Marc said thoughtfully. “How?”

  “King Erriki cursed the pirate’s line. His sons. And the sons of his sons. He said they would have only sons. Forever. His men laughed. Or so the warriors said when they returned. Those foolish dragons thought it would be a great blessing to only have sons.”

  “They were wrong,” Marc said.

  The shadows had lengthened. The long day was coming to an end. “They were stupid,” she pointed out. “I am sure they learned too late that the king had brought disaster to their descendants.”

  “They were and have,” he assented gravely. “Have you considered, daughter of the king’s brother, that I am one of the line of Jörmungandr?”

  “You?” She swallowed hard. Things just kept getting worse and worse.

  “Me. In a thousand years, much may happen. There are no humans living who are not related to everyone else on earth. Dragons are few. Inevitably we must all be descended from Jörmungandr or his sons. All cursed as he was cursed. There have been no daughters born to my House in seven centuries. Nor any other. Do you know how long this affliction was supposed to last?”

  She shook her head, realized he couldn’t see her in the gathering dusk. “I assume, forever,” she whispered.

  “Well, doesn’t that suck,” he said.

  Suck what?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Marc~

  Zofie had given him a great deal to contemplate. Not least of all the curse laid on his race by King Erriki. He could fight off sleep if he had to, but sleep might bring him the answers he sought. Dreams could be powerful. Of course last night’s dream had earned him a pixie bride.

  Her voice came softly out of the darkness. “Do you have many bed slaves, Marc Valli?”

  He choked. “None at all. I do not buy women for my pleasure. And I do not keep slaves.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. Come here, little one.” He held out his hand and she was instantly there.

  “How do you do that?” she gasped.

  “Do what?”

  “Summon me.”