Dragon's Heart

by Martin Gallagher

  “What about Soltin, have you contacted him?” he asked as an afterthought.

  “Yes, heart of mine. He travels to Cyomatro even now to inform the empress. It is hoped she will send some of her soldiers. After all, this matter concerns all,” Cara answered. She paused before continuing. “From Baram, the joint armies will sail south to meet with King Amard and his ships; then we will all meet off the shores of the Isle of Storms and put an end to this,” Cara concluded, with a grave expression.

  “That’s it then. First light tomorrow I’ll take Jason and his knights through the void to meet with King Damon,” Matra said, sighing resolutely.

  Her Highness Casandra Maya, daughter-heir to the golden throne of Cyomatro, strode along the well-lit palace corridor. The palace guards and servants took one look at the dark expression and discreetly kept out of her way. Twice now Casandra had asked her mother if she could go with the soldiers staged at the docks as part of the joint army against the red dragons.

  Each time the empress had steadfastly refused, and they had ended up throwing insults at each other. Casandra longed to get away from the stuffy palace and experience a bit of real life and adventure. The stories she had heard around the palace about dragons made her curious and more determined to get away to find out for herself if dragons existed.

  Most sensible Cyomatrons did not believe in dragons and thought they were just some sorcerer’s tricks and that the army assembled was going to fight some sorcerer’s army. Her mother had gone to great lengths to perpetuate this conception of events, even to her only daughter.

  Casandra thought her dear mother stressed that point to strongly for it to be entirely true. A plan began to form in her head as to how she might get out of the palace. By the time she reached her room, she had most of the plan thought out. She would need help but would have to be careful whom she asked. Casandra smiled, her mood mellowing as she began to put her plan into action.

  Matra scowled in frustration as he looked around the crowded dock. For more than a week now he had helped organise the assembled armies. Cara had returned only the day before with Hedra and several queen dragons carrying more of the maidens. General Sandar had arrived this morning with Captain Gan, now almost fully recovered from his wound. The general had six hundred men under his command nearly half of the total assembled armies. According to King Damon, his cousin, the young King of Deryl had more than a thousand men under arms and waiting to join them at Port Deryl.

  The joint armies made for a logistical nightmare. Men ran to and fro, loading supplies on to the four waiting ships helped by burly suntanned sailors while officers shouted orders. To Matra, the whole business seemed like chaos, and the noise strained his nerves, giving him a headache. He brushed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath of the bracing sea air to steady himself. He glanced back towards where the Cyomatrons were preparing to board, to see Jason coming towards him with one of their commanders.

  There seemed to be some outcry among the Cyomatron soldiers. Matra groaned, wondering what they would be complaining about this time. The Cyomatrons seemed to be the most contrary of people, always quick to find fault.

  “We have a bit of a situation, Matra,” began Jason, his expression impassive. He inclined his head towards the Cyomatron officer. “This is Major Liskan, he’ll explain it,” Jason finished. His impassive expression turned into a slight grin as the major stepped forward. The major had the look of a man sorely pressed by something and looked back towards his men worriedly before speaking.

  “Excellency, I have tried speaking to your king on this matter but he is otherwise engaged so I thought you might be able to help,” the major said, standing to attention with a slight bow.

  “What’s the problem, Major?” Matra asked, wondering what had made the man so edgy. The major coughed and flushed a little, unsure on how to broach the problem that was troubling him.

  “Well, Excellency, we have. That is, we discovered only a short time ago that someone has smuggled in amidst our men,” the major paused, hesitant to continue.

  “Smuggled? A spy perhaps,” Matra said, unsure what the major was leading up to and getting a little impatient with the man. Jason’s grin broadened as he shook his head at Matra.

  “Spit it out, Major, before his esteemed Excellency grows weary of you and decides to turn you into a piece of toast,” Jason encouraged.

  The major blanched and shrank back a little from Matra. “You’re not really a dragon, are you?” he asked, his eyes going a little wild. Matra sighed and gave Jason a disgusted look.

  “Yes, I am, as a matter of fact,” he said glaring at Jason. “Do you have to upset people that way, Jason? All right, Major, who is this person who was smuggled in with your men? Matra turned his glare to the major who swallowed hard before speaking.

  “It’s Her Highness, the daughter-heir, I have tried to persuade her to return to the palace, but she flatly refuses. The Empress will have me hanged, I’m sure, when she finds out what has happened,” the major said, regaining his composure and taking a deep breath, his face taking on the look of a man resigned to his fate.

  “Okay, let’s go and talk to Her Highness. Maybe I can talk some sense into her,” Matra replied, shaking his head at the thought of more delays. The major led them towards his men waiting to board one of the four ships on the quayside. A burly captain stood to one side with four soldiers who seemed to be holding someone. They all had troubled expressions and seemed a little disconcerted; the person they were holding, however, glared at them belligerently as Matra approached. The daughter-heir to the throne of Cyomatro was a tall, lean woman with long braided blonde hair framing a face of creamy white. Her black eyes, small nose and lips would normally have made her look sensuous had not her face been twisted in a snarl.

  Dressed like one of the soldiers, with a hood hanging down her back. The sword she carried around her hip was not a standard issue though, but a vicious-looking two-handed sword. A sudden flash of insight came to Matra as he saw that sword and he frowned.

  “Can you use that sword, Your Highness?” he asked casually, studying the young woman impassively.

  “What!” The daughter-heir’s expression turned from a scowl to one of confusion. Then she frowned, taking a closer look at Matra. “You’re the shapeshifter, aren’t you?” she asked, staring intently at Matra.

  “You could call me that, but you haven’t answered my question,” Matra replied pleasantly.

  “Of course, I can, and no one is going to send me back to the palace, not even you, even if I have to chop a few people up to make my point,” Casandra returned, becoming belligerent again.

  Matra turned briefly to Jason, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Tell the Major not to get excited and keep his men under control. I’m going to have a little friendly spar with Her Highness here,” he said.

  “What are you up to, Matra?” Jason asked, looking quizzically at Matra.

  “Trust me!” Matra replied, turning back to face the daughter-heir and drawing his sword. “Okay, Your Highness, let’s see how good you are.” Matra gave a tight smile. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jason talking quickly to the major.

  Casandra frowned then laughed as she reached for her two-handed sword. “Okay, you asked for it. I have to warn you I’m very good with this,” the daughter-heir wielded her sword with surprising dexterity, spinning it in circles, hand over hand, so quickly that the movement became a blur. Then she sprang forward into a crouched fighting position with a slight smirk on her face. “Ready when you are, Your Excellency or whatever you want to call yourself,” said she.

  Matra did not answer but sprang forward with his longsword aimed for her head. Casandra raised her sword slightly and dodged sideways, easily parrying Matra’s thrust and continued her movement through with a sideswipe at Matra’s exposed side. Matra stepped back, avoiding the stroke and feinted a right thrust before following through with a slicing left to Casandra’s outstretched arm.

 
The young woman nimbly jumped to the right, ducking under Matra’s sword arm and readied for a thrust to his middle, but Matra had already moved in close and pushed her back. The two of them danced around each other, waiting for an opening, attacking and counter-attacking each other. Everyone around stopped to watch the two, clearing a space for them as they moved around.

  All had become quiet except for the ring of steel upon steel. Sweat began to run down the daughter-heir’s face, but she ignored it as her expression became one of grim determination and her breath became more laboured. Matra looked unruffled and calm, hardly breathing hard at all.

  Suddenly he dived under Casandra’s swinging sword. In a blur of motion, he twisted his sword over Casandra’s, wrapping the flat of the blade across her wrists. She yelped in pain and dropped her sword with a look of vexation.

  “I have never seen anyone, move so fast before, but it doesn’t change a thing. I’m still not going back,” Casandra said still breathing hard and shaking her head. Matra bent, picking up her sword, hefting it in his hand.

  “It’s light for a two-handed sword, isn’t it?” Matra commented, handing it to her. He leant in close, speaking in a whisper that only the daughter-heir could hear. “By the way, I cheated a little. You are very good with that sword,” he smiled. “Who said anything about sending you back? I would be delighted to have you along. Of course, I’ll have to ask His Majesty first, but I think it will be okay,” he continued aloud. Matra noticed as he spoke that King Damon had arrived, accompanied by General Sandar.

  Major Liskan paled, and he seemed ready to object. The look Casandra directed at Matra was one of complete confusion. All the anger had drained from her.

  “What!” she said for the second time. Then she smiled. “Why, you — You.” She started laughing then as Matra grinned openly at her.

  “Is it a private joke? Or can we hear it too?” King Faldarin enquired, straight-faced.

  “It looks to be a private joke to me, Your Majesty,” General Sandar put in, his scarred face cracking into a broad grin.

  “But, Your Majesty—” Major Liskan began to protest.

  “Now, now, Major, I’m sure everything will be all right. I’ll send a messenger explaining it all to the empress. His Excellency here can be Her Highness’s escort, and I’ll personally guarantee the daughter-heir’s safety. I’m sure you’ll want to command Her Highness’s personal bodyguards,” King Faldarin said conciliatorily. The major sighed, giving up any protest. Once again he looked like a man resigned to his fate.

  “Looks like the major’s having a bad day,” Jason noted shrewdly.

  “He’ll get over it,” Matra replied. “Well, Your Highness, shall we proceed?” Matra said, offering his arm. Casandra twined her arm around his and smiled cheekily as the five of them boarded the waiting ship.

  They all gathered in the king’s cabin. Matra and Jason sat with the daughter-heir between them, and King Faldarin sat next to General Sandar. Hedra, leader of the Amadon maidens, stood in a corner with Jemito the Tulatan native. Although the Amadon maidens seemed to hold most men in contempt, there seemed a certain affinity growing between the two which Matra suspected went beyond mutual trust and respect.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Now that we’re all alone, Matra, I suppose you have a good reason for letting the daughter-heir here come along. I’m taking a risk not sending her back. Forgive me, Your Highness, you are good with that sword but where we are going that may not be enough,” the king explained with a slight bow to the daughter-heir.

  “That’s all right, Your Majesty, I’m sure His Excellency here will keep me out of trouble,” the daughter-heir said primly, giving Matra a cheeky smile.

  Matra cleared his throat flushing, slightly. “She needs to be here, Your Majesty. I’m not sure how I know, but I know she has a crucial part to play,” Matra said, his tone serious.

  “One of your predictions, I presume?” the king asked, frowning. An outstretched map lay on a wooden table between them, and the king looked down at it thoughtfully as he finished speaking.

  “Something like that and she is very good with that sword, after all. I had to use magic to beat her.” Casandra stuck her tongue out at him and smirked.

  “I presume you ducked when you explained that to her, Matra,” Jason said with a sly grin. “Did you actually send that messenger, Your Majesty?” Jason added curiously.

  “Of course, I couldn’t do otherwise though I suspect we’ll be well out to sea before he arrives at the palace,” said King Faldarin. There was a knock on the door as he finished speaking.

  “Oh! Oh! Better get serious now, that’ll be our esteemed major, and you know what he’s like. No offence Your Highness, but he is a little straight-laced.” General Sandar grinned as King Faldarin told Jason to open the door.

  Matra was aware that they all had been joking and making light to try and take their minds of the coming confrontation. The major entered, and the king indicated for him to sit after he had made his bows, which Matra thought were a bit overdone. They all studied the map on the table, discussing battle strategies and deployment of forces once they reached the Isle of Storms.

  Emeldra paced up and down the room which had become her prison, her face betraying the frustration she felt. Her thoughts become gloomy; the confinement she was subjected to since her arrival on the island wore on her nerves. The visits she had from Var Firedragor, though they had been few, strained her already fraught nerves almost to breaking point.

  Though he never threatened her in so many words, he asked pointed questions and grew enraged when he didn’t get the answers he was looking for and only barely seemed to control his temper. Several times he had tried subtle magic on her or indirectly at the heartstone. Every time the heartstone had glowed an angry red, and he had to stop, glancing in fearful frustration at the stone around her neck.

  Emeldra felt heartily thankful that Matra had made it impossible for her to remove the stone for if she had taken it off when she had wanted to, she probably wouldn’t be alive now. She shuddered when she remembered the Paenalir the heartstone had killed when she had only been here a few days. The man had been assigned to bring her meals. She knew he was going to be trouble when she first set eyes on him. He was an evil, lecherous man whose eyes always seemed to be on her in an appraising sort of way even when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Eventually and inevitably he made a grab for her. The heartstone flared into life filling the dimly lit room with its ruddy glow. White jagged bolts of energy flared from the stone, striking the man in the chest and flinging him across the room to hit the far wall. She had stared in horror as sparks of raw energy flickered over his body. He jerked up and down as the energy seared through him and he began to smoke. His screams were deafening, and by the time the guards burst into the room the man was dead, his body blackened beyond recognition

  Since then Var Firedragor had put a strange half-breed man to bringing her meals, who had gradually befriended her. There was something odd about the man, Emeldra noticed from the start. He had seemed strangely gentle and respectful to her, unlike most of Firedragor’s minions. Eventually, he confided in her that he was one of her father’s spies and that when the time came, he would help her escape. Emeldra didn’t entirely trust him for it might be just another ploy by Firedragor, but at least he was civil and told her what was going on outside. He had told her only this morning that the red dragons had scryed several ships sailing from Cyomatro towards Deryl. That could only mean one thing. Emeldra waited impatiently for the man to come with her evening meal to get the latest news.

  A day out from Cyomatro Matra came out on deck. It was a fresh morning with a following stiff wind blowing. Port Deryl loomed on the horizon, and Matra could see several ships in the large harbour. Matra walked towards where King Faldarin stood to watch the coast drawing nearer.

  “Ah, there you are, Matra. I was about to send someone to find you,” the king began, only half turning to face Matra
; he kept one eye fixed on the horizon.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” Matra answered inquiringly.

  “When we dock at Deryl we’ll transfer over to Amard’s ship. It’s faster than these Cyomatron ships and more comfortable too. Do you want to ask the daughter-heir to join us? I’m sure she will come if you ask her,” the king said thoughtfully.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. did you hear anything from Castle Talmon before we left Cyomatro? With all the excitement I forgot to ask,” Matra replied, brushing a hand through his hair.

  “Yes, Sir Halwain reported all is quiet. He was a little upset about being left behind, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the castle’s defences while I’m gone.” The king turned fully to face Matra as he spoke; he had a bleak look about him. “I’m going to make them pay dearly for kidnapping my daughter,” he said. “She is still all right, isn’t she?” he asked finally with a slight tremble in his voice.

  Matra nodded. “I’d know if anything were to happen to the princess, Your Majesty.”

  The king took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s all I need to know. Let’s go below and get ready to transfer to the Tennar.”

  They all got together again, this time in King Amard’s spacious cabin on board the Tennar. King Amard hadn’t changed much since Matra had last seen him, except he wore light chain mail and had a rapier strapped to his hip rather than his blue doublet and hose he normally wore.

  Marcus Lanton joined them, having gathered a group of sorcerers from Cyomatro and Deryl. King Faldarin briefed the new arrivals with their battle plan once they reached the island; a few alterations were made with the suggestions from King Amard before they all adjourned for a midday meal. They reconvened later in the evening. Marcus Lanton discussed the deployment of the sorcerers he had brought along as they finalised their plans. With all the ships assembled they made sail under a darkening sky, twelve ships in all headed due south towards the Isle of Storms.