Avalee and the Dragon

by Hamill, Patricia

  These thoughts churned around in Avalee's head and soon spawned some that were even more absurd. What if the dragon was friendly? All the missing villagers, perhaps they went willingly. They all lived in a new village and worshipped the dragon's greatness, and Avalee would be their new queen. A queen dragon adored by all, massive and flying, swooping in graceful loops and spiral acrobatics through the clouds above her adoring people. She heard their cheers and smiled a toothy dragon's grin, trumpeting her approval in response.

  As Avalee was lost to her fever dreams, the dragon flew on, never wavering from its course. Straight on through night and almost to the break of day, until at long last its destination became visible to its superior eyes. The limp girl held gingerly in its wounded claw was shivering and twitching in her sleep, and the dragon was glad that their journey was nearly complete. It had grown more and more worried for her as the trip wore on.

  ~~~

  Chapter 4

  A gentle rustle, followed by the touch of damp cloth on her lips drew Avalee from the depths. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and welcomed the drops of water that fell onto her parched tongue. Just a few drops and then nothing. She moaned in disappointment, eyes still closed tightly.

  "Easy, not too much at first."

  The voice was soft, a woman's. Not a voice she recognized.

  The cloth returned, fresh with clean moisture, and Avalee managed to crack open her eyes as she sipped from it. The woman was young, not as young as Avalee, but young just the same. Avalee managed to take in dark hair, almost black, and green, almond-shaped eyes on a pale face before her lids clamped shut of their own accord.

  "Here, once more," the woman coaxed, and Avalee obliged. That done, a soft hand brushed Avalee's hair back from her forehead. "Rest now. Rest and recover. You're in bad shape."

  Avalee, however, had no interest in resting. She waited for the sound of the woman's footsteps to recede before forcing her eyes open again and looking in the direction she'd taken. A rough cloth hung across a narrow opening, obviously the door, but nothing like anything Avalee had seen before. The edges of the door the cloth didn't hide were jagged and unworked by any hand. As were the walls, which she followed up with her eyes along the edge of the door to where they sloped unevenly into the ceiling, maybe twenty feet up. A cave.

  Avalee wasn't really surprised. She'd expected a cave, hoped she'd live long enough to see it, actually, but she remembered passing Dragon's Mount and leaving it far behind. Knowing that, she had no idea where this cave actually was. She shifted slightly and a jab of pain hit her in the stomach, leaving her unable to take a breath for many moments. Gingerly, she reached down and touched, finding no wound or bandage, but when she looked, nothing but the deep blues, blacks and reds of a deep bruise colored her midriff where the hilt of her short sword had pressed into her.

  She didn't see the sword in the room, though. Whomever that woman was, she'd obviously taken the weapon somewhere else.

  Taking a deep, wincing breath, Avalee gripped the side of the bed and pulled herself up into a sitting position, careful to avoid tightening her abdominal muscles. That was when she noticed the chain that linked her leg to an iron ring set in the floor. The chain jingled as she slid down to her feet, and she made a face at the noise. Peering at the cloth doorway, she expected someone to respond, to come in and order her back into the bed.

  She stayed still for quite a long time, several breaths long, before deciding no one was, in fact, coming to investigate.

  That established, Avalee began to move, carefully of course, toward the opening. Despite her efforts, the chain dragged noisily along the rough ground, but she gritted her teeth and continued anyway. She was nearly there when the offending chain tightened and arrested her progress. She almost fell, but caught herself.

  Straightening to her full height, she reached out and caught the edge of the cloth and lifted it out of the way to peer beyond it. More rock, a passageway, nothing more. Avalee wasn't sure what she'd expected, a huge cavern maybe, but it wasn't this. There was no way a dragon—any dragon, not to mention the one who'd carried her—could fit through these narrow passageways. That brought to mind the original question, only vaguely formed before, but now solid and prominent in her mind. Who was the woman who had tended to her?

  Her arm grew weary holding the cloth out of her way, and it wasn't worth it for such a pathetic view, so Avalee released it and allowed her arm to fall back to her side. She was still dehydrated; those few drops were barely enough to wet her tongue, and she wanted nothing more than a full glass of water, or two or three. Nothing more than that and perhaps a meal. Some of the pain in her abdomen wasn't from the bruise from her failed attempt at battling a dragon. Some of it was from the utterly hollow state of her stomach, at least two full days without food.

  She hoped it wasn't more than that, but she still had no idea how long she'd been out. One full day had been spent preparing for her stand against the dragon, no time or thought had been devoted to food or drink then, even though both had been laid before her during the festival. Neither had any thought been given to food while she awaited the dragon on the platform, not that she'd had anything there to eat or drink had she wanted to do so. And of course, the dragon hadn't brought any.

  Avalee started to make her way back to the low bed, not to lay down again, but because it was the only place to sit in the room. Her eyes wandered the plain chamber of their own accord, coming to rest on a pitcher set on a table adjacent to the bed and next to it the damp cloth the woman had used to feed her the water. Ignoring the noise from the chain as her pace quickened, Avalee made her way to the table and sat close to it on the bed. She lifted the pitcher and was pleased to find it heavy, nearly full by the feel of it. There were no glasses or even a bowl to pour it into, but that didn't deter Avalee. She merely took off the lid and brought the whole thing to her cracked lips.

  Delicious. It was all she could do to take it slowly, to not overdo it. After three gulps of water, Avalee came up for air and set the pitcher down. It was bliss to drench her thirst in that manner, but she didn't like the way the water had sloshed into her hollow belly, nor how it had caused her stomach to flip and churn. She'd been too long without sufficient water, and it seemed her body had forgotten how to handle it. Now she began to understand why the woman had provided drops and no more, even after Avalee had awoken.

  "So, you're awake for certain now, are you?" The woman was back, entering just after Avalee had placed the pitcher back on the table and closed her eyes in concentration to avoid losing it all right away.

  Avalee opened them up again and looked at her visitor before answering.

  "Yes." She gave the woman a quick look up and down and then met her eyes. "Who are you?" she said, and then with a look around the cavernous bedchamber, she added, "And where am I?" She didn't ask where the dragon was, being satisfied by her earlier exploration that the dragon could get nowhere near her from the look of that narrow passageway.

  The woman sighed and came in the rest of the way, and Avalee noted with interest the satchel hanging from her arm, particularly the scent wafting up from it. Fresh baked bread if she was any judge of such things. Perhaps apple butter as well? Avalee would have been drooling if it weren't for her lack of saliva. Her body still hadn't really had enough water to be considered hydrated, but Avalee didn't care.

  "I am Elisa," the woman answered as she began to unpack the satchel and lay the contents out on the table beside the pitcher. A wooden cup and a matching plate came first. A short butter knife, barely two thumbs long and almost half as thick as it was wide came next. Avalee eyed it and then discounted it as a weapon. It wouldn't even do if her goal was to poke someone's eye out. She would be lucky to give them a black eye if she tried.

  Next came two rolls, fresh baked for certain now that they were free from the confines of the leather satchel. Avalee could see the steam rising off of them and had to force her hands under her bottom to keep them from snatching o
ne off the plate before Elisa was finished setting out the rest of the food. Following the rolls was a small jar of apple butter, the top secured with cloth, not a proper metal cap, which was likely the reason Avalee had been able to smell it. She supposed it was enough to keep it from spilling, but not for very long. The cloth already seemed to be discoloring from its brief contact with the apple butter where the jar had obviously tipped over slightly in transit. Elisa removed the cloth and wrapped it neatly so that she could put it back in the bag.

  Next came another wrapped bundle, small, perhaps two fingers wide, which the woman unwrapped deftly before setting the lump of butter it had held onto the plate beside the rolls. She rolled that cloth up as well and stored it away and then brushed her hands lightly over her skirt.

  "Is this all for me?" Avalee asked, eyeing the food closely.

  "Yes, dear. It is. Just take it slowly so that you don't make yourself ill."

  Avalee had completely forgotten her second question to Elisa, and the woman seemed to be fine with allowing that to be overlooked. Avalee made no effort at good manners or grace, wasting no time in tearing open one of the rolls and smashing butter into it, pouring the apple butter on top, and then devouring the whole thing before she could even realize she had started. Her stomach clenched at the sudden invasion, but then rumbled for more.

  Avalee approached the second roll in a more controlled manner, but it soon followed the first. If anything, she was even hungrier, and thirstier, than when she'd started. She noticed that Elisa had filled a cup while Avalee had been busy with the rolls, and gratefully took the cup and downed it in great gulps, taking no time for a breath in between. Setting it down with a gasp and a deep breath to make up for the way she'd devoured everything, Avalee closed her eyes and just felt.

  She knew it was likely in her mind the way energy seemed to tingle and spread out from her stomach and travel the length of her body and down her extremities. She knew it was improbable that the way her mind suddenly sharpened, her muscles became fully responsive, and her back straightened was in any way due to the meager supply of food and drink, no matter how satisfying they'd seemed. But, then again, the sensation didn't fade away, and it was hard to deny how truly good she began to feel.

  She opened her eyes and peered at Elisa wonderingly. The woman was half-smiling and nodding her head at her.

  "Ah, yes, you are feeling better, are you not?"

  "I am," Avalee said, "Uncommonly so. Did you add something to the apple butter?" Avalee watched Elisa for a hint of anything that might contradict what she might say, but to no avail. Her expression was steady—pleasant, but noncommittal.

  "No, my dear, nothing." She came over and began to gently push and guide Avalee back onto the bed, laying her down the way she had been before she'd awoken. "Here, you need your rest now that you've eaten. Trust me, you'll soon learn all you wish to know. For now, recover. I'll check in on you now and then. Don't fret yourself too much about the dragon. You're safe."

  The constant babble went on like that as Elisa tucked Avalee in like she might a little child. But it wasn't enough to soothe her into wanting to sleep. Nor was it enough to make Avalee forget the chain and manacle connecting her to the ring in the floor. No matter the kindness in this woman's eye, no matter the delicious food and soothing words, Avalee knew she was a prisoner.

  "There, there, now, go to sleep. Dream well and dream long, tomorrow we shall see if you are ready to take leave of your bed and this room." Elisa patted Avalee gently on the head, again as if comforting a child, and then turned and left without another word. The cloth across the door rippled slightly after her passage, but then hung limply, no flow of air or anything else disturbing it.

  As soon as she was gone, Avalee undid all the tucking and bundling the woman had done by flinging the blankets aside and leaping to her feet. But she didn't stay on her feet, she crouched low on her free knee and knelt to examine the clasp of metal around her ankle. She didn't plan to wait around for the woman, Elisa, to come back for her or to check in on her, either. She didn't plan to wait around for the dragon to summon her, as she knew it would. No, these things weren't part of her plan, but escape was. Escape and then finding her sword. After that, she would see how things played out. Perhaps she would get a glimpse of the dragon, perhaps not. Now that she'd faced it, she knew for certain that she was in no way ready to fight it with any success. Still, Avalee was alive and in one piece, despite piercing it with the sword. And, if she was alive, she could still fight, could still prepare herself for another attempt.

  But before she could do any of that, she had to get the manacle off of her ankle. It was bound without any lock or clasp that she could see, almost as if it had been placed around her leg and welded in place. She knew the spot, too. She saw the rough surface where the metal had been melted and cooled. Beneath the spot, her skin was tender, as if slightly scalded. Maybe they'd put something there to protect her, but it hadn't been enough to do the job completely.

  She took hold of the manacle on each side of the weld and tried her hand at breaking it. Although she could reach both hands around the metal, it was still tight, and she barely had enough room to do so. She tried pulling with one hand and pushing with the other. She tried the same thing in the other direction. After that, she tried pulling the two halves in opposite directions until spots appeared in front of her eyes from the strain of pulling while holding her breath. Gasping she released the metal and placed her hands on the floor to steady herself in her kneeling position while she recovered from the effort.

  "Think, think," she said aloud to herself. "There has to be a way."

  She opened her eyes and peered at the metal once more. This time when she took it in hand, she began to spin it slowly around her ankle and watched carefully for any flaw. Still, the only weakness seemed to be the weld, and her efforts proved that such a weakness made little difference to her. Perhaps if she were inhumanly strong, she could have broken the bond. Or, perhaps if she had something to hit it with, like a hammer. The thought sent her eyes wandering the room, looking for anything that might do. The pitcher was out; it would just shatter. The plate and the pathetic butter knife would be useless. The bed was all of a piece, nothing to use there unless she managed to smash it and use one of its legs. Then again, perhaps the table?

  She looked over her shoulder at the table and considered it. Yes, it might just do at that. It was nowhere nearly as massive as the bed, but she imagined she could get one of the legs off with nothing more than the power of her weight leveraging against the table. If it worked as she thought it might, the leg would snap right off at the joint, and then she'd have something to use against that weld. She didn't want to think too much about it at this point, suspecting that such a feat would likely hurt, but she didn't hesitate to act on her idea either.

  Getting to her feet and taking just a moment to move the items from the table to the floor, she tipped the table on its side, though she tried to be quiet about it. That done, she selected the leg closest to her and placed her palms solidly near the end of it, gripping tightly so that it wouldn't fall and make a clatter if, no, when the leg came loose. A satisfying cracking sound met her ears as she pressed down on the leg with locked elbows. She wasn't using her arm muscles to try to force it. She was pressing down with all the weight of her torso behind her arms. And, if that didn't work, she figured she could likely succeed if she simply sat on it; though that would definitely make a lot more noise, and she'd probably hurt herself in the process.

  Luckily, she never had to take that risk because, abruptly, the joint gave in to her efforts and the leg snapped free of the table with a satisfying pop and splinter of wood. That done, Avalee stood and hefted the leg in her hand. Besides a possible tool to free herself, it would do nicely as a weapon until she found her sword—at least against any human foe who might try to stop her. She thought of Elisa and her smile, but hardened her heart against the memory. The woman, no matter how nice she seemed, was obvi
ously on the side of the dragon. And that made her an enemy. Avalee would fight her if it came to that.

  She would fight whoever or whatever stood in her way, but she tried to ignore the voice of doubt that clouded the brave thought. It whispered that she was in no shape to fight, that she didn't know what she was doing even if she tried. She tried to ignore the fact that the entire scope of her practice with any weapon, whatsoever, resided in a single night of swinging a sword in the dark while awaiting the dragon. Hardly enough to build her into the warrior she would need to be to get out of here if it came to fighting. She tried to ignore the voice, but couldn't, because it was the voice of reason.

  Still, despite the futility, despite the doubts that filled her mind with worry and sickened her belly, she set the leg down and began folding a corner of the blanket from the bed into a soft pad, which she gently pushed between the manacle and her ankle. Then she took up the table leg and carefully began to wedge it in. She was kneeling again for stability as she worked, and soon a good five inches of table leg were snugly pressed between flesh and metal, the padding doing little to soothe the pain that already resulted from her efforts.

  As she ignored her doubts, she also ignored the discomfort, and she repositioned herself so that her back was braced against the bed and the knee of the manacled leg was close to her body, crossing in front of her so that she would be able to push against the long end of the table leg straight out from her body. She took a deep breath and then began to push. Beads of sweat quickly formed and trickled down her brow, stinging her eyes when she didn't manage to blink them away in time. She paused and wiped some of it away while she panted from the effort, but although it seemed to have done nothing, she wasn't about to give up.

  Soon she was back to pushing; the edge of the bed bit into her back, and the end of the table leg did the same to the outer edge of her foot. And that would have been enough to set her screaming, even without the manacle working against the other side of her leg, the side she'd failed to consider when placing her makeshift padding. But she didn't scream, and she didn't give up; and, she didn't try to add any more padding, no matter the pain, because if she did that, she wouldn't have the room to put the table-leg lever back in place. That, and she wasn't sure she could bring herself to start up again if she allowed herself anything more than the briefest reprieve.