Dragonfire

by Charles Jackson

  Dimble stank – badly – and her revulsion over his sudden proximity was almost as complete as the look of shock and surprise that flashed across his face as he realised what had just happened. Nev didn’t give him any time to react as she released a sharp, loud “Yah…!” and brought her right fist around in a tight arc, smashing the pommel of the bokken hard into the side of the man’s head and sending him staggering away with stars flaring across his vision.

  Perry had learned from his earlier mistake, and he had no intention of underestimating Nev again as he came at her from her right while she sent Dimble reeling. This time, he kept his shield arm high and held his sword low and tight against his body, keeping it out of harm’s way until he found an opening to strike. She dived away from him, looking for space to manoeuvre and ignoring the mucky ground as she rolled once and rose instantly to her feet again on the other side of the clearing, the bokken once more sheathed and ready with her hand resting on the hilt.

  “Kill the bitch…!” Kane howled in agonised fury, still lying where he’d fallen and clutching at his right arm. “Run her through…!”

  “Aye, I’ll do that soon enough…” Perry grinned darkly, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved from side to side, forcing her backward with every step. “Not right away, though… this one’s going to suffer first!”

  “You got her, Perry… you got her!” Dimble joined in, shaking his head to clear his vision as he staggered back into the fray without hesitation. “I’ll take her on the left: you take the right…!”

  “Get away from me…!” She snarled, nothing but anger in her hissing tone now as adrenalin once more coursed through her veins. “Get back…!”

  Her foot caught as she took another step backward without turning her head, realising she’d unwittingly allowed herself to be pushed back against the corpse of the man they’d called Cragelen. She attempted to side step, misjudged her movement and for just a split-second was forced to glance down and back to confirm her surroundings. Even as she turned, Perry was already lunging, waiting for that very moment, and this time she was forced to bring the bokken up in desperation to block his blade in mid-swing, the tough Loquat wood taking the full force of that powerful blow.

  A bokken wasn’t designed for actual combat and strong as it was, it couldn’t hope to stand against two pounds of solid, sharpened steel as the sword bit deep, the force of the blow snapping it in half. It’d been enough to at least deflect it away to Nev’s left, but the flat of Perry’s turned blade still slapped her brutally against her shoulder, drawing a cry of pain and surprise.

  He followed up immediately with a savage thrust of his shield, its reinforced centre crashing into Nev’s chest and toppling her backward over Cragelen’s body. She fell hard onto her back, winded and gripped by a sudden terror as she realised how vulnerable she was without a weapon of her own. She still held what was left of the bokken in her right hand, but little remained other than the hilt and perhaps a foot of wooden blade, tapering to a jagged, uneven point where Perry’s sword had snapped it off.

  “That’s it, Perry!” Kane crowed with triumph. “Show her who’s boss now…!”

  “Please…” she wheezed, somehow knowing full well that any chance of negotiation was long gone, had it ever existed at all. “Don’t…!”

  “Make her wish she’d ne’er been born!” Dimble hissed darkly, sounding far too eager.

  “When I’m done with her, she’ll curse her own mother…” Perry whispered in a soft, angry voice, displaying an evil smile to match.

  There was a sudden sound: a soft, whooshing noise followed by a far louder, wet thud to Nev’s right, and as both of them turned their eyes in that direction they were presented with the sight of a very surprised Dimble standing a few metres away with a rather large, black crossbow bolt jutting from his chest at the centre of a spreading dark stain. He fell without another sound, already a lifeless lump by the time he hit the ground. There was only one person Nev had ever seen with a crossbow, and as unpleasant as the little creature had been, she couldn’t have been happier that he’d appeared in the nick of time.

  “I already do…!” She snarled, anger returning and overcoming her fear as she realised the ‘cavalry’ had arrived. As a momentarily distracted Perry turned back toward the sound of her voice, she drew back her right foot and kicked hard between his legs. There was no chain mail or protective armour at that angle, and her heel dug deep into his flesh, sending excruciating pain and nausea rippling through his body. He collapsed with a gurgling scream, clutching at his stricken groin as she pushed herself up onto her feet and backed quickly away.

  “No… no…! I yield… I yield…!” Kane screamed in terror, raising his one good arm high as a sign of surrender as Godfrey charged out of the scrub toward him, brandishing a long-bladed sabre so lightly curved that it almost seemed straight. His pleas fell on deaf ears however as the young man ran him through without a second thought. His death was longer than Dimble’s, and was neither quick nor quiet.

  She felt her stomach lurch at the sight of blood and death, yet she was unable to turn away as Lester also appeared out of the surrounding bush, his crossbow reloaded and at the ready. She could tell he was headed Perry’s way, and terror spread across the Blackwatcher’s features as he too worked out what was about to happen. He struggled to his feet, fear and desperation driving him, but was able to take just one step before his legs gave out and he fell again, wracked with pain and an urge to throw up.

  “Please…!” He moaned weakly, reaching out to a horrified Nev as he dragged himself across the muddy ground toward her on his elbows. “I don’t wanna die…!”

  But there were no words in that moment that could possible make any difference, and as abhorrent as the idea of taking life was, there was also no denying what Perry and his colleagues had intended to do to her had they been given the chance. Much to her own silent shame, Nev found that she didn’t want to speak out in his defence, and she could only turn slowly and face the other way as Lester raised the crossbow to his shoulder with an evil grin.

  There was another thick, wet thud and a soft groan of surrender, and in the awful silence that followed, Nev bent double with hands on her knees for support and threw up on the grass in dramatic fashion. That she’d hardly anything in her stomach to shift was of little consequence, and the painful dry retching that followed continued for some time before finally fading minutes later into a faint, recurring shudder. She miraculously managed to keep her hair out of the firing line, but her face was pallid and coated in a thin sheen of perspiration as she stood upright once more and turned toward the other two, both already motionless and waiting expectantly for her to finish with arms folded.

  “Are you mad…?” Godfrey barked angrily, advancing on her with his bloody sword in hand and similar stains sprayed across his face and chest. “Do you have even a clue how stupid this was?”

  “Not real smart for a witch…” Lester muttered – not softly enough – as he casually placed a foot against Dimble’s chest and forcibly wrenched the crossbow bolt from the dead man's chest.

  “For the love of The Shard, Boniface, shut up would you?” He snarled in frustration, turning back toward Nev as the younger boy simply shrugged matter-of-factly and uses his shirt tail to clean blood off the bolt he’d just retrieved.

  “I want to go home…” she croaked hoarsely, the after-taste vile in her mouth as she wiped at it with a corner of her cloak.

  “You want to be dead if you’re crazy enough to come back here all by yourself… in the dark…!” He raged, almost unable to conceive how anyone could’ve been so foolish. “There’s no reasoning with scum like that. They would’ve taken you, then killed you!”

  “Taken me…?” She stammered, still weak and trying to focus on what he was saying. “Taken me where…”

  “Right here, y’ fool! Then killed you!” He repeated, glaring at her as what he actually meant finally sunk in and she cringed in horror and disgust.
r />   “Oh… oh…!”

  “They were Harald’s watchmen… king’s guards: in the Blacklands, they’ve licence to do anything they want… to kill anyone they want… to take anything or anyone they want…! They don’t like you; you die… resist one of them and you die… slowly and painfully…!”

  “I just wanted to go home…” she moaned, tears flowing again as shock once more began to take over from adrenalin.

  “There is no home…” He hissed viciously, his patience wearing thin, and the savagery of his words made her flinch. “Whatever… wherever it was you and that blue harlot came from, it’s gone… and you need to get that into your pretty little head fast before you get yourself and me and Lester killed. I have a mission to complete, and I will fail that mission if I don’t deliver you to our client… alive and in one piece…!”

  As she self-consciously tried to wipe tears from her eyes, Nev suddenly realised that he too was shaking faintly, as if he were barely in control of his own rage or…

  …Or something else…? A strange idea flared in the back of her mind. She could understand him wanting to keep her alive to fulfil whatever task he’d been assigned, but why get some worked up over that if it were just a job? What else was going on inside his head? Anger and frustration was starting to build again inside her now though, and she pushed the thought out of her mind, not in the mood to think about anything other than her own situation.

  “I – I’m sorry, alright…?” She snapped, desperately trying to control her sobbing as she stepped around him and stalked across to where she’d dropped her bag. “I thought maybe it would still be open… I thought I could still find a way to get back…” She snatched up the bag and shrugged it over her shoulders once more, feeling just a little better now that the reassuring weight of her belongings once more hung against her back. “You’re not the one who just got dragged out of her own world, betrayed by her best friend – who then tried to kill her – and then got attacked by a bunch of goons while trying to get home again… who then tried to kill her again!” She was shouting now, hands clenched into fists at her sides as she glared at the pair of them and angrily stomped her foot for emphasis. “This has been the worst birthday I have ever had, and having you criticising everything I do isn’t helping!”

  “The ‘worst birthday you ever had’…?” Godfrey asked coldly, lowering his voice and trying hard not to lose his temper again. “Nev Anderson, this was very nearly the last birthday you ever had, and if you don’t start paying attention and listening to my instructions, it will be!” He took a few steps toward her again, taking a cloth from a trouser pocket and wiping the blood from his sabre before sliding it back into the sheath at his belt. “I am here to keep you safe, not to pander to your every command. Maybe you’re a witch, and maybe you’re not…” he continued, cutting off any protest she was about to make “…but acting like a princess doesn’t actually make you one, and I do not take orders from you.

  “When we got here, they were about to kill you.” He added bluntly, deciding the obvious needed to be stated. “Had we not come to your rescue, you’d be dead by now, or dying, so… before you start complaining about me ‘criticising you’, maybe you should think about thanking me first – me and Lester, here – for saving your stinking life… twice…!” That last sentence was laced with venom, and whatever else might’ve been going through his mind a moment or two earlier, there was only anger in his eyes now. The impact of it was enough to break through her own stubbornness for a moment and force Nev to think about what he’d actually said.

  “Now… we have maybe an hour before the nearest post sends out another patrol to find out what happened to this one…” he continued, maintaining his intensity “…and if we’re lucky, they’ll be on foot the same as this lot. If not, then we might have the Blackwatch to deal with, and that would be very bad. I intend to be well away from this area when they do arrive, and complain all you like, one way or another you will be coming with us, even if I have to tie you up and throw you over the back of my horse! Lester and I are going to spend the next five minutes hiding these bodies as best we can… after that, we’re leaving!”

  With those last angry words, he stalked off toward Kane’s fallen form, taking the corpse by the feet and grunting with exertion as he dragged it slowly toward the long grass on the opposite side of the clearing.

  Still experiencing a range of conflicting emotions including fury, fear, pride and confusion, Nev was momentarily left without any idea what to do. Still angry over the way he’s spoken to her and with her system still flooded by the adrenalin that had returned because of it, the very last thing she wanted to do was what Godfrey was telling her, or to spend any more time around him whatsoever. Not even her own father has ever spoken to her with such rudeness or disrespect, and her natural instinct was to rail against it: to do precisely the opposite out of spite and stubbornness.

  Yet as she stood there completely alone, shuddering from the after-effects of tears and shock, her rational mind was also well aware of the fact that the closest person she could call a friend right now – the only person – was Godfrey Westacre. Save for Lester, who was horrid anyway, everyone else she’d met so far had tried to kidnap or kill her… or worse. Being left to fend for herself wasn’t really an option at that point – that was pretty clear – and she wasn’t left with too many viable alternatives.

  As the other two went about the unpleasant task of moving the bodies out of plain sight, Nev made a great show of thinking hard about a making a decision that really shouldn’t have needed any thought whatsoever. She made it more difficult than it should’ve been, however considering it was the only thing she seemed to have control over at that moment, she wanted to at least fool herself into believing exactly that, if just for a little while.

  VI

  The Dragon’s Daughter

  The sun was well above the eastern horizon by the time they made it back to the barn, and the cloudless blue sky of morning had been replaced by dull, leaden sky filled with a blanket of grey cloud. It wasn’t raining – yet – but those clouds were definitely threatening with a palpable sense of moisture in the air. There were signs of activity about the area too now, and Nev was surprised to see that the farmhouse was one of a number clustered about within a few square kilometres. She could see two or three off in the distance, smoke rising from chimneys and cooking stoves as farmers and their families went about the beginning of their daily chores.

  She saw the owner of their farm just once as he set off across the fields with a small sheep dog that was definitely part kelpie, crossing paths with them as they arrived and passing Godfrey a single nod of greeting before continuing on his way.

  “Does he know what you’re doing here?” Nev asked quietly, riding behind Godfrey on a large, black stallion while Lester followed on astride a smaller mare of brown.

  “He never asks…” Godfrey answered with a shrug as he slid off the horse and then reached up to take her by the waist as she swung her leg over, lifting her down to the ground without too much effort. “He knows we’re against the Blackwatch, and that’s enough for him…”

  “Doesn’t he worry they might find out?”

  “Soldiers came calling here one evening…” Godfrey explained coldly as he moved over to Lester’s horse and dragged Nev’s duffel bag down from its position behind the boy. “Garry was away in Norfoster that night on business… was just his wife and daughter home…” He grimaced as he walked back over and handed her the bag. “You can work out the rest, no doubt. That was years ago… before I was born, I think,” he shrugged again, stopping for a moment to stare after the distant shape of the shepherd as he continued on in a slow, ambling gait. “I don’t think he cares what we do, long as we’re doin’ something the Blackwatch don’t like. Don’t think he’d care if he were caught either…” he added with another shrug. “Stickin’ it up Harald’s men’s all he’s got left now, anyway... that, a dog and a few sheep…”

  �
�I’ll need a hand to hitch up the wagon,” Lester pointed out as he led the mare past them, taking her around to the far side of the barn.

  “Comin’, Toadface…”

  “Can… can I help…? With anything…?” Nev asked after a moment’s pause, Godfrey already halfway to the corner of the barn. He stopped for a moment and turned in her direction, a thoughtful expression on his face that almost included a smile.

  “Aye… I guess you could…” he decided after a moment’s thought of his own. “Hitching a wagon’s not for the untrained, but there’s our packs and stuff inside, waitin’ to be loaded.” He offered a genuine smile then, smart enough to recognise an olive branch when he heard one. “It’d be a big help if you could give us a hand loading the rest of our gear while we work.”

  “I – I can do that,” she replied, not really managing a smile in return but at least making an effort. He gave a simple nod and disappeared around the corner, and she soon heard sounds of activity from that direction that presumably signalled the hitching of a horse to wagon.

  Turning toward the barn, she walked stiffly over to the door and opened it wide, cringing at the shooting pains in her aching muscles with every step. Nev had never ridden a horse before, and she’d been forced to hang on for dear life, hands wrapped tightly about Godfrey’s waist as they’d travelled most of the way back at a steady canter. The experience had left her jarred and sore and she was fairly certain her butt was going to ache for a week. Although she was fit and active, horse riding used her muscles in a manner completely different to anything she was accustomed to and she was now feeling it quite painfully through her backside and inner thighs.

  Didn’t really seem like anything worth complaining about though… certainly not after what Godfrey had told her about the old shepherd, Garry. What were a few aches and pains to a man who’d had his whole family taken from him in the most brutal and horrific fashion? A bit of soreness was definitely a first-world-problem by comparison, and despite Godfrey having made it clear earlier that she wasn’t one, maybe the term ‘suck it up, princess’ might apply under the circumstances.