The Book of Earth

by Marjorie B. Kellogg

Erde felt no surge of terror. She had already used up her supply. She gripped Alla’s little dagger, then left it in its sheath. It was sufficient to kill a man, as she knew too well, but small defense against an angry bear. She thought of Rainer’s sword, but couldn’t bear to bloody its pure shining blade. Her sudden calm astonished and confused her, but one thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to kill anything, or even try. She’d had enough death and killing, and if the proper punishment for her crime was to be eaten alive, then let one of God’s creatures be His avenging angel.

  The snuffling neared the entrance to her cave and stopped.

  Its presence was more than sound. Erde could feel it out there, its questing like a touch on her skin, the anticipation of it an invisible hand pressing on her brain. The bear, or whatever it was, tried the entrance, with the unmistakable scrape of claws on stone. It seemed to struggle, as if it couldn’t easily fit through. Briefly, Erde was relieved. Then she realized what this meant about the size of the bear. The passage into her cave was tall and not particularly narrow. This must be a bear out of all natural proportion, not God’s bear at all but some terrible demon sent by the Devil to drag her to Hell for her crimes.

  A demon. Mere stone would not keep a demon out, and sure enough, in it came. The sound as it squeezed through the opening was the metallic hiss of a sword being drawn. A smell like a snake pit invaded the cavern as the demon dragged itself across the floor.

  Some vague terror began to penetrate. Erde clutched the sword to her, rolled herself into a knot beneath her cloak, and waited for fangs and claws and oblivion. The acrid snake smell enveloped her. She sensed the demon hovering above her, heard the creak of bones and scales and a vast hollow rasp of breathing as it lowered its head.

  The demon nudged her. Its snout was hard and felt as big as her entire body. It pushed at her gently, snuffled a little, then eased its great weight down beside her, sighed, and began to snore.

  Erde didn’t move a muscle. The demon had decided to rest, and was saving her for breakfast. Somewhere inside, a voice screamed at her to get up and run while she had the chance. She knew she should. But she was so cold, and this demon was so pleasantly warm. The deep rhythm of its breathing soothed her. After a long while of listening to it snore, Erde decided that either it had put a spell on her or she was still dreaming. She gave up waiting to die and drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  She dreamed of her father again, and poor dead Rainer, fighting. Cruelly they slashed at each other with shining swords much bigger than the one she’d carried away into exile. Their dueling ground was not the familiar battlements or castle yard of Tor Alte. It was flat, a perfect horizon-stretching flatness such as she had never seen, having grown up in a mountain kingdom. It was as flat as she imagined the ocean to be, with no visible end to it. The surface of this plain was unnaturally dark, like earth seared by fire, and so hard that the men’s boots rang against it as if it were hollow, a plain of stone. In the distance behind rose a tall line of towers, shrouded in smoke. A cold wind stung the back of her throat, leaving behind the taste of metal. After a long while watching the terrible battle, unable to turn away, Erde became aware that someone beside her was speaking her name.

  * * *

  She woke again, the dream call still whispering in her ear. She stirred and looked up into a pair of round windows, side by side, glowing amber with the rising sun.

  Erde blinked and reconsidered. She was inside a cave. These could not be windows but . . . She remembered the demon. Eyes. The demon’s eyes! Eyes as big as windows, and lit with their own inner fire. She could not scream, but her body convulsed into a protective ball beneath the folds of her cloak. Breathing shallowly, she waited, but the demon made no move. After a while, she found herself wondering why it didn’t just eat her and be done with it.

  With a careful finger, Erde drew away a corner of fabric from her eyes. The glowing windows were gone. Dawn had returned to the mountain and the faint light filtering down from above outlined a great homed head set on a long muscular neck, powerful forearms and chest tapering past strong short haunches to a stubby tail that lay curled partly around her. It looked like . . . Erde decided the demon meant to trick her, looking like that, so like a . . .

  A dragon?

  She suppressed her sudden thrill of joy. Of course it could not be a dragon, not here in this tiny dark cave. And joy in her situation was not logical. A murderess about to be eaten should not feel joyful. It was the dream still possessing her, or the demon’s spell. But the trouble with dreams and spells was, even if you knew you were in one, it was hard to know how to get yourself out. The joy within her demanded recognition, even if it was a demon’s illusion. Besides, why couldn’t it be a dragon?

  Erde considered further. If it was a dragon, it might be just as hungry as a demon. Perhaps Alla had been wrong about dragons not eating people. Perhaps a dragon and a demon were the same, like Fra Guill said, and she’d be no better off than if it was a demon pretending to be a dragon.

  The demon opened his eyes again and blinked at her slowly. Its transparent lids glided crossways like shimmering curtains of rain. Erde sighed. Their beauty took her breath away.

  Could she really be dreaming? Would she, raised in the rich legacy of her grandmother’s dragon-tales, have ever dreamed a dragon with no wings? And if it was demon-sent, wouldn’t it be a bit more terrifying? This creature seemed big enough when crammed into a hole in the ground with you, but looking it over, she saw it was no match at all for the fantasy dragons of her childhood. Glasswind’s back alone had been the size of her whole bedchamber. This dragon, if it was one, was closer to the size of her bed.

  And what would a dream-dragon, or even a demon, expect of her, for the oddest thing about this creature was that it seemed to want something of her rather immediately. It only stared and blinked, very slowly, but Erde could feel its expectation. Strangely, she felt no threat, though beyond the expectation was hunger, hunger like a longing, like the sharp attention of the dogs in the wood yard when she passed them on her way for a walk: demanding looks, as if it was her responsibility to take them with her and tell them what to do.

  Erde stirred in her nest of damp wool and clothing. One could not sit forever, waiting to be eaten. The stiffness in her limbs and a desperate need to relieve herself made it seem very likely that she was not dreaming this dragon after all. She needed to see it more clearly. Perhaps then she would know. She sat up slowly and felt for her satchel, found a candle, flint and tinder, and struck a spark. The dragon drew back in surprise, then lowered its big head again to regard the candle flame with something resembling professional interest.

  Erde rose, stretching carefully. The luminous eyes followed her. Logic told her this scaly creature might snap her up at any moment, yet she felt inexplicably calm. She faced it bravely, holding the candle high to study it. It definitely looked like a dragon, or at least a sort of dragon. Staring into its eyes was like standing at the top of a tower, windblown and vertiginous, with voices calling you from a distance.

  She was seized by a need to touch it. Amazed by her own boldness, she laid her palm on the bony ridge of the dragon’s snout. It felt hard and very rough, like worn granite, but suddenly the joy inside her swelled, as if something warm and needy were pouring into her from outside. The surge abated as soon as she jerked her hand away.

  My goodness. Erde sat down again to think.

  In her fantasies, she had never bothered about how one communicated with a dragon. She had simply endowed them with human speech. But nose-to-nose with this creature, even an ardent fantast such as herself could not imagine its blunt crocodilian jaw producing comprehensible German. Even if it did by some magic find its tongue, she would not now be able to answer it.

  But Erde knew well enough that men’s words are not the only medium of communication. A dragon was, after all, an animal of sorts, and she’d never had any trouble talking with animals. She knew to put her hands on them—do
gs liked their heads held and horses preferred an arm slung about their shoulders—while thinking about whatever it was she wanted them to know. Somehow, the messages got through. But dogs had relatively simple agendas and were familiar to her. A dragon was another matter entirely.

  As she contemplated it, the dragon began to shift its bulk from one forearm to the other and back again. It’s getting impatient, Erde concluded. If I can’t figure out what it wants, perhaps it will eat me after all, no matter what Alla said.

  She decided to test whether it would allow her freedom of movement. Holding her candle high, she stepped over the thick scaled curve of its tail and marched slowly across the cavern. It made no move to stop her. But as she neared the entrance, she was nearly brought to her knees by a piercing sense of loss welling up inside, as if from the depths of her soul. Erde cringed in pain and hugged herself, spilling hot wax on her jerkin. The dragon wrenched its bulk around in the narrow space and came trailing after her, making soft mewling noises like a puppy. When it reached her and she did not back away, it quieted. The sharp pang in her heart receded and she could stand up straight again. She stared at it, breathing hard. It stared back, beseechingly.

  Erde knew then that this creature was not going to eat her, that in fact it was going to attach itself to her and did not want her to leave without it. Cautiously, she let herself feel a little of that joy inside. After all her years of dreaming and fantasizing, here was an actual living dragon, and it had chosen her. However remarkable that might be, Erde felt there was nothing in her life so far that she was as well prepared for. She put her hand on the dragon’s nose and bade it follow, and it did.

  * * *

  She retraced her path around the edge of the underground pool with no destination in mind, wandering for the sheer delight of watching the dragon trudge after her like a worried and faithful hound. It waded through the pool, sending huge dark ripples coursing across the cavern to reflect the candle flame in bright, ever widening circles. It followed her willingly enough through connecting tunnels and caves up toward the surface, but Erde felt its anxiety build with the steady increase of gray light seeping down from the entrance. Where the tunnel began its final ascent, the dragon stopped.

  Erde blew out her candle and stowed it in her jerkin. The light from above was just bright enough to see by. She decided to make a quick search for more firewood, and started up the crumbled slope. The dragon swayed uneasily from side to side and broadcast its alarm until Erde put her hands to her ears and begged it to stop. She turned and looked back at it, its head down between its claws like the Devil’s hunting dog, a dog of living rock, all gray and dusty in the dim light.

  I will be back, she thought at it carefully, in simple words, as if speaking to a small child. It lay there listlessly, with a dog’s tragic gaze, and she was sure it had not understood.

  But it was not just firewood she needed. She needed to be up top under open sky, for a moment at least. The more she thought about it, the more urgent the need became. She headed upward again, her boots skittering across the brittle surface. Small cascades of broken rock rattled down behind her. She knew she was not being careful, but caution came too late. She did not hear the bear entering from above, or see him until he had already seen her, blocking the passage to his winter den.

  It was a large bear, and very touchy. His eyes squinted. He could not see well, but smelled her out instantly. He snarled, and one huge paw slashed out warningly. Erde slid backward down the slope and shrank against the wall, but mere retreat did not satisfy the bear. His roar echoed through the tunnel like thunder as he launched himself down the slope. She fumbled uselessly for her dagger, caught in the folds of her shirt, then lost her footing and fell sliding backward.

  Dragon! she thought blindly as she plummeted downward in a hail of gravel and angry brown bear. She hit bottom and rolled into a ball, awaiting the crush of rough fur and the terrible rake of claws. Her last tumble brought her face up, in time to see the dragon snatch up the bear, the whole head in its mouth as if that great hairy bulk weighed nothing. While Erde scrambled up, backing against the cavern wall, the dragon shook the big bear once, very hard. It held the limp corpse dangling in its jaws for a moment, then shambled over to lay it down with delicate formality at Erde’s feet.

  The baron’s daughter had found a new champion.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Your dragon awaits you.

  And indeed the dragon was waiting, with an expectant look in its eyes, glancing from the pile of dead bear to Erde and back again. The bear was beginning to leak blood from its mouth. Sickened, Erde backed away. When the dragon snatched it up once more and dragged it off into a corner, she understood it was only waiting for a sign, for her permission. Turning away while the dragon noisily devoured its meal, Erde recalled Alla’s words again, and wondered how the old woman had known.

  Perhaps Alla had been a witch after all. Erde knew that she’d put no spell on Rainer, but she’d had many unusual skills and knew many mysterious things. If being a witch meant being like Alla, Erde didn’t see why people thought it was such a bad thing.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder. Each time she looked at the dragon, she felt that same surge of wonder and joy. But this time she was glad for the faintness of the light, as faint as her heart became at such a sight. The loud crunching and rending was bad enough. This dragon was not a tidy eater and it was ravenous, as one might expect a newly awakened dragon to be if one knew one’s dragon-lore, and Erde considered herself a bit of a lay expert.

  She was glad to learn that the dragon had spared her not because it was sated or an herbivore or even particularly mild-mannered. It was hungry and possessed a proper dragonlike appetite, yet it had left her alone. Whatever torturous pathways of thought she followed, she reached the same conclusion in the end: her sense of connection with this implausible creature was a true one.

  Your dragon awaits you. She wished Alla had given her just the smallest clue as to what it awaited her for. Dragons, like all magical beings, had a distinct reason for being. You didn’t just acquire one out of simple good fortune.

  The Mage-Queen was dragon-bound, but the Mage-Queen, a benevolent power, had been Erde’s own fantasy, even if she did sometimes wish she was real, or sometimes forget that she wasn’t. In the true dragon-lore, such connections with dragons were spell-wrought. They were generally sought by evil mage-lords, who sacrificed their firstborn or sold their soul to the Devil for the privilege. Erde was fairly sure that killing a man in self-defense, though surely an awful crime, was not quite the equivalent in black magic terms, so this small bit of knowledge left her no more enlightened than before.

  The dragon finished bolting its meal. Erde sensed this by the expectant silence that settled in behind her and she knew, just knew, that the dragon was waiting for more. Her fleeting concern that once its appetite was whetted, it might move on to her was dispelled by the supplicant quality of its waiting, like a giant nestling, mouth slightly agape, helpless but demanding to be fed. The demanding part she could accept. All dragons expect service from humankind. But helpless?

  It thinks I brought it the bear, she realized. And it wants another. Erde shook her head. Service was all very well and good, but she was going to have to disabuse this creature of the notion that a fourteen-year-old girl, a fugitive at that, could provide it with a steady supply of dragon-sized dinners. She was just coming to grips with the problem of hiding out alone in a cold cave and feeding herself. The little bits of food she’d brought with her wouldn’t last more than a day. Feeding a dragon would require entire barnyards. Why couldn’t it feed itself?

  Overwhelmed, Erde sank to the cave floor in despair and put her head in her hands.

  Oh, Alla, what have I done? What can I do now?

  Alla had said, hide out until the priest leaves or go to the king. But Alla had not expected her high-born nursling to effect her escape in blood. Erde could not ask even temporary shelter of the villagers now, or for t
heir help in getting to the king. The man she’d murdered had three children, one of whom was sickly. She would have to remain in the caves, sneaking out only at night to steal whatever food she could find, until life returned to normal at Tor Alte. She was sure her father would be less bothered about her having killed a common soldier in defense of her honor. But then, it seemed her father did not believe she had any honor left. Womanly honor, at least. She wasn’t sure he valued any other kind, since he’d shown himself so spendthrift with Rainer’s.

  Ah, Rainer. In the distraction of the dragon, she’d all but forgotten. How could she? No, she’d never forget. Erde called once more to mind the surprise of his kiss and wrapped the memory deep inside where it would always be safe.

  The dragon shifted about in its heavy-limbed dance of impatience. Erde lifted her head and signed in its direction. It had left the bear’s head and claws uneaten. She would have to clean up the mess before it began to smell and attract other dangerous wildlife. The dragon moved a step closer and resettled itself doglike on its haunches. It could not lick its chops—its tongue was not flat and so easily manipulated. It was more like a lizard’s tongue, thick and oval, tapering to a blunt point. But Erde had noticed that it often let the slender tip hang out of the side of its mouth, where a space was left between its big canines and its double rows of bicuspids. However endearing, this habit was not dignified, and Erde had always believed dragons to be deeply concerned with their dignity. Apparently not this dragon.

  As she sat there staring at her new companion, she found herself thinking of sheep, seeing them rather, fat sheep on a soft green hill, like a daydream, only clearer. Very real in her mind’s eye. Oddly, these particular sheep were large and brown and very shaggy, not at all like the thin, gray ewes kept by local herdsmen. Yet they were there in her head and she knew they were sheep. Odder still, the landscape surrounding these strange sheep wasn’t familiar either. The hills were much too low and gently rolling, the meadows far too green. There was too much sky. Yet this image in her head was as clear and present as one of her own memories.