The Last Dragon [Book One]

by LeRoy Clary

  Mine is a softer, quiet sort of magic instead of the flashy, in-your-face sort mages use. Hinted at solutions or the use natural forces like water and wind to do my bidding. He stood alert less than ten steps away from us. Sooner or later, either Kendra or I would clear our throats, cough, sniffle, or perhaps he would smell her perfume or my sweat. It didn’t matter. He would discover us before long.

  I nodded to Kendra again, although she had no idea of what we were about to do. However, she was ready, rock in hand, for whatever it was. My mind reached out and gently shook a branch on the guard’s right, the side away from us. The leaves rustled. He turned to it. We charged.

  Ten steps walking is only five or six while running. As we ran, I lifted the club, and before we reached him, was already swinging it down, like chopping a log. He heard me at the last instant and twisted, moving his head to one side and forcing my blow to strike his shoulder instead. It didn’t matter. The heavy branch struck him on the point of his shoulder, and the snap of bone broke the silence of the night. He fell silently at my feet. My club struck him again before his howl of pain could form and warn the others. Another swing at his motionless head connected solidly.

  While I dispatched him, Kendra had rushed at the one sleeping and swung her rock-filled fist at him. He was dead before his body rolled to the ground. We stood in stunned surprise while we exchanged looks barely seen in the starlight. There are those who say no man is as savage as a woman. That might be true. My sister and I had now killed our first enemies. Neither of us liked it. Bile rose, and I tried to prevent that from turning into gagging or vomiting.

  She recovered faster than me, which was probably normal in our relationship. She said in a voice that barely cracked, “Get their weapons.”

  The man at my feet had a sturdy bow over his shoulder, and his quiver held more than ten arrows. Kendra held up the same. I took his knife, a poor piece of metal. The handle was loose, the edge dull and chipped. Still, it was a knife, and it was tucked it into the pants I wore, despite that they were too tight and the legs too short. “Ten arrows here.”

  “Same with this one,” she said. “Back to the camp and we’ll spread out a little. You begin with the sleeping ones to your left, I’ll take the farthest to the right. Work our way to the center. Keep at least one alive to question.”

  Her voice was now controlled and cold as winter as she spoke of killing seven more men. I don’t believe the realization of the magnitude of what we were doing had become a reality or we would have failed. I was glad it was dark. The sleeping men would look like dark mounds. She took the lead, and I followed, moving to my left as we entered the clearing. Seven men asleep. Beyond was the sleeping form of Elizabeth, and beside my foot, Tater.

  The bows were nothing unusual. Mine felt like an unadorned military issue weapon. Since I didn’t know how it would pull, the strength or accuracy, I nocked an arrow and crept closer so it couldn’t miss. From the corner of my eye, Kendra did the same, an arrow fitted and ready to fly if one of the men woke before we were in position.

  None did. My mind turned to steel. They were no longer men. They were simply dark lumps in the night who intended to kill us. Targets. Not men. I watched Kendra. She nodded at me and let her first arrow fly. An instant later, mine did the same. There were two dull thumps as the arrows struck, and one man groaned in response, but not loud enough to wake others. Kendra and I pulled our next arrow and let them loose, then another.

  A man howled in pain, and in the light of the coals of the fire, he leaped to his feet. I saw an arrow stuck high in his thigh, one of mine. There had been no way to tell the position of how the men slept under the blankets. He would be slow to move and more concerned with the arrow in him, at least for a while, so he presented no immediate danger. Others waking at his cries might have weapons in their hands. My next arrow took out a man who had also woke and was climbing to his feet, already preparing to charge me. He held a knife. My arrow took him full center, and he paused and appeared surprised as he looked down at it protruding from his lower chest.

  I had another arrow ready to fly, but Kendra had been faster than me. Each of the men now had an arrow or two in them. She hurried to Elizabeth’s side and sawed her bindings with the dull knife she’d taken from the guard. I arrived at their side as Elizabeth sat up while rubbing her wrists and asked, “What took you so long?”

  Kendra said, “Damon wanted a nap, first.”

  Elizabeth said, “Have you seen to our guide?”

  “Tater’s over there,” I answered while turning to where he lay. However, it was just like her to be as concerned for a man who hadn’t bathed in a year, spat constantly, and spoke rudely when he had the opportunity, to be nicer to him than us. Elizabeth looked below the surface of relationships.

  Reaching Tater, he was still asleep and breathing heavily. I untied him, but he didn’t wake. “Throw some wood on the fire, will you?”

  Kendra was busy tying the wrists of the three men still alive and binding their wounds. Elizabeth put several pieces of wood on the coals and then helped Kendra until the wounded men were secure. She rushed to my side and knelt. Tater was moaning, his left arm was twisted under him unnaturally, and his face beaten so badly his eyes were swelled shut.

  The increasing light from the growing firelight revealed a split lip, a knot on his forehead the size of my thumb, and bruises already coloring. Elizabeth helped me check his body for more damage, finding at least one broken rib, and probably more. His left arm was broken below the elbow. She snapped at me, “Take his other foot. We’re going to drag him closer to the fire where he can get some warmth.”

  We pulled him, each pulling a leg, ignoring his roar of pain protesting our actions. Once beside the fire, she shouted at Kendra, “Get me some water.”

  A small spell of mine eased his pain and put him into a deeper sleep. We pulled his arm until it snapped into place, and splinted it, ignoring his screams when he awoke. I decided to learn a more powerful spell to relieve pain. We gave him sips of cold water and adjusted him to lay sideways to the fire where he would feel the most heat and avoid placing weight on the broken arm. We placed four blankets under him for warmth, and at least that many on top. He quickly went back to sleep or fell unconscious, we didn’t know which. It made no difference. He was more comfortable and warm.

  Elizabeth said, “We’ll do what we can for him in the morning and stay the day here, and tomorrow night. Then . . . we’ll see.”

  It was like her. Our intention had been to arrive in Mercia before Lord Kent and Princess Anna, and that wouldn’t happen if we remained here tending to Tater. Yet, she is the one who insisted from the beginning. I considered offering to ride on ahead but held my tongue. How would I live with myself if she and my sister remained here and something happened to them?

  Kendra joined us. “Three men alive. Can you help me drag the others into the forest after daybreak, so their rotting bodies don’t attract scavengers willing to fight us for a meal? They are not dressed like the one at the top of the pass, so they probably were not working together.”

  I watched her face in the dancing firelight. It was set into a hardness I’d never seen. She had killed men this night and now spoke of dragging their bodies away as if they were bags of old clothing. She was also right.

  She looked back at me with the same stern expression and stiffness. “And you need to find your own clothing. You look ridiculous, and you stink.”

  Both women wore their own clothing. Mine had been taken. The attackers wore rags, but little of what the women wore was suited for men or would fit. My mind raced ahead. “We also have to question the survivors. A lot of questions.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  W e agreed that one of us would remain awake to tend to Tater’s injuries all night and keep an eye on the wounded. Elizabeth insisted she would take the first watch and wake me when she needed to sleep. I had the gut-feeling she wouldn’t wake me at all, but who am I to argue with the orders of a roya
l princess? Kendra began to search the dead, a disgusting task I wanted no part of.

  She didn’t know what valuables or weapons they concealed beneath their clothing, so she cut the clothing off their bodies by the light of the campfire and after examining each bit of cloth. She threw most of what she discovered into the fire to burn. She placed a blanket over each, which was more than they had done for us. When she came to the last one, she paused and said, “You do this one.”

  “Why?” I asked, not liking the snide tone she used.

  “Because he’s wearing your clothes.”

  For some strange reason, that upset me more than the corpses at her feet. Not that she had asked me to help, but because that was the bastard who took my clothes while I’d been unconscious and helpless. I suddenly relished the idea of searching him and returning the disfavor.

  I reached him, and in the firelight, his dead eyes were watching me. He was heavily bearded, his hair dark and stringy, and his nose long and thin. I turned to peer at the others. It seemed each of them had long, thin noses and were dark-skinned. Their dead eyes were dark brown, their hair as dark as mine. People of Dire were generally lighter brown haired and were fairer skinned, as was almost everyone we knew. Our noses were also wider.

  In my mind, I had said our noses, but that was not true. It was true for nearly all people in Dire, but not for us. Kendra and I had long thin noses and darker skin, with brown eyes and thick brown hair. Just like the men we’d killed.

  The two of us were orphans with unknown pasts. A lump formed in my throat that I couldn’t swallow away. His head lay where it faced the flames of the fire. The texture of his hair was the same as mine. My heart pounded. I turned to Kendra, but Elizabeth, who was still tending to Tater, glanced up as if she knew my thoughts—or was listening. For once, I decided to keep my ideas to myself.

  When I pulled the blanket away from him, it got stuck on the shaft of the arrow that had penetrated his chest. It finally came free with a tug. The freed blanket went around his head, tying it in a knot firmly so he couldn’t watch me with those damning eyes that were so much like mine.

  Yes, he was dead, and probably by my arrow, but things were far easier with his head concealed so the blanket could shut off his silent accusations and my wild thoughts. I pulled my clothing from his lifeless body and tossed it aside. It had been fouled by him, and I didn’t wish to put it on until it was washed, and perhaps not even then. “Where are the packhorses?”

  Kendra said, “Other end of the clearing, over there” She pointed. “But they put the contents of the packs under that tree if that’s what you want.” She pointed again, to the shade of a nearby tree.

  I went to the tree and carried back the bag that contained my things. All had been rummaged through, the neatly folded shirts twisted and stuffed carelessly back inside, but they were there along with trousers. Why only one change of my clothing was taken puzzled me, until thinking that they probably divided up what we had. The lucky one with the blanket around his head got my bag.

  I changed clothing despite the cold and immediately felt better. My sword was missing, as was the case for the crossbows, my good knife, and anything else of meager value. There were no coins.

  When I returned to Kendra’s side, she was finished searching the last of them. A small pile of worthless items lay at her side. Her expression was drawn, so I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Seven men here, all dressed in similar clothing, all ragged and falling apart from filth. But do you know what I didn’t find on any of the seven?”

  “No,” my tone telling her of my sudden interest in the conversation.

  “No gold, silver . . . or copper. Not a single coin among them. No rings on fingers, no necklaces, trinkets, or anything else that could be sold or traded for a biscuit. Not even an empty coin purse to hold a coin.”

  That also struck me as strange. One of the wounded we’d tied up chose that moment to moan and call out for help. My sister got a reassuring pat on her shoulder before she went to the other side of the fire to check on the three survivors and the one that cried for help. After a quick examination, I decided the one moaning wouldn’t last until morning. He’d already bled too much from the arrow in his chest, his skin was too pale, and his breathing shallow and uneven. The arrow that had penetrated his chest was still there. Removing it would probably kill him instantly as the blood would flow freely from the wound.

  The other two men were in slightly better shape. One had broken the shaft of an arrow that had struck high on his thigh, and only the stub remained, the iron point still deep inside. Again, I was struck by the similarities in our appearances. Even in the half-light, once discerned, they were too obvious to ignore. I needed to give the two-finger signal to Kendra and find a place to speak with her.

  He was bound with his hands behind his back and wide awake. I said gently, “How are you doing?”

  He frowned as if he didn’t understand what I’d said. He acted like my talking offended him and he scowled. I moved on to tend to the last man, one with two arrows in him, but neither fatal wounds if tended to properly. The arrow in his shoulder wept a thin ooze of blood, and the one in his arm was hardly more than a scratch. It was high on his arm, nearly to his shoulder. I gently removed it and used a rag to put pressure on the wound until it stopped bleeding. The near-miss must have been one of Kendra’s arrows because none of mine ever missed by that margin. At least that was the story I’d tell Kendra later and smiled at the thought because she was probably thinking the same.

  The wounded man smiled back at me, a surprise. I said kindly, “Do you need anything?”

  “Kondor,” he said. The word meant nothing to me. “What is Kondor?”

  He nodded vigorously. I didn’t understand what he meant or why his eager response when I repeated the word. He gave the impression that the word was important. Perhaps it was his name. I pointed at him. “Kondor?”

  He shook his head, his eyes downcast at his failure to communicate. Elizabeth had come quietly to my side. She said, “Kondor is not his name. It’s a place, a kingdom, I think.”

  That made more sense. I pointed into the darkness to a distance beyond Mercia, at least that was my intent. “Kondor?”

  He nodded again. The smile had returned.

  Elizabeth said, “Why are there troops from Kondor here? Especially hiding in the mountains on a lonely trail hardly nobody travels?”

  Kendra nodded her agreement. “Troops? Maybe. And why are they dressed like that in the cold of a mountain pass? They are better dressed for the brown-lands if you ask me. And why are they almost starving? They are so skinny they must be weak from hunger. No wonder we were able to defeat them.”

  Elizabeth had added more information that had gone unnoticed. “All the nearby firewood is gone, the dead branches that are easy to gather. There is no food, and all of ours was eaten already. They’ve been here a long time, maybe months. Their clothing is a disgrace, and there isn’t a single coin between them.”

  Kendra continued, “I noticed that too. Not a ring on a finger or ear, and have you looked at their feet and hands?”

  I looked. The bottoms of their feet were filthy and as hard as old leather from going barefoot. Their hands were the same. These were men who worked for a living and didn’t normally wear shoes. They didn’t bear the whip-marks common to slaves, yet they seemed to lead the same sort of lives. Even the lowest wear shoes except in warm climates. My thoughts went to the brown-lands.

  My feelings towards them had subtly altered as we spoke. I have always believed there are people born evil, others good. There is also those who are born good, who are turned evil by circumstances such as wars or famines. External forces beyond control such as near starvation tend to lower morals and perceptions. Food that would have been discarded in better times will be eaten eagerly in hard. Behavior that would have normally been immoral becomes acceptable. I saw the men at my feet, those from Kondor in that light without sufficient reason to m
ake that determination. Therefore, it was more of wishful thinking until proven.

  In contrast, they were also men who had intended to kill us. However, all that was normal when outlaws, highwaymen, and thieves made their existence by doing such things. What I saw, in addition, were the thin noses, dark eyes, and skin. Any of them could be mistaken for my brother.

  I glanced at Elizabeth and half-expected her to be comparing us to them. My eyes drifted to Kendra and at the man she searched. She looked up. “Where are our crossbows and other things?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That worries me.”

  She was right. Our other belongings had been strewn around the campsite, some clothing was worn by one man, but things were missing, like my crossbows and sword. Using simple logic, if they were not here, they were elsewhere. If they were elsewhere, somebody took them there.

  I glanced at the fire and how we were all illuminated and all around us was darkness. How our night-sight had been ruined by the flames of the fire. And a chill formed when I realized anyone in the depths of the surrounding darkness could be holding one of my missing crossbows pointed at me.

  Despite our agreed upon reluctance for me to use magic without permission, I reached out and felt all around the meadow, using my magic to increase sounds like breathing and heartbeats, touching all the dark places and finding nobody. I remembered an oil lamp was with our things. I located it and went in search of the meadow where we were first attacked.

  Three horses were missing. The pack horses and Tater’s farm-mount were near the fire. The three fine horses from the king’s stables were missing. Alexis and the two horses the women had ridden were not in sight. On impulse, I whistled the call for my horse.