The Last Dragon [Book One]

by LeRoy Clary

  Elizabeth muttered loud enough for all of us to hear, “Strange.”

  Tater climbed down and knelt on the road, searching. He stood. “Nothing since the rain.”

  “At least one mystery has been solved,” Elizabeth said.

  Which one?” Kendra and I asked at the same time and chuckled awkwardly.

  “Remember Wythe, the old man who my father sent in search of your history? I always wondered why he didn’t investigate by talking to people at Crestfallen, yet he went here. Well, not here, but to the port of Mercia.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kendra said.

  “Kondor. He knew there were people at the port who looked like you two. That was the best place to look.” Elizabeth said and was right.

  Sooner or later one of us would have figured out the same thing, but she was always the quickest. Knowing what we now did, it was the logical place for him to ask questions.

  Tater had been quiet, until now. “Never heard of Kondor ’til we met those men on the mountain. Any idea why they were there?”

  “Stata had to be part of that,” Kendra said.

  “Never did find my wyvern armor at that store. Got a good mind to pay it a visit on the way back.”

  “Probably not a good idea,” Elizabeth said. “Tell me what you hoped to sell it for and I’ll make it good.”

  “Not the point. Besides, they hurt Springer.” He sounded angry and determined.

  “You’re just one person,” Kendra told him.

  He was riding beside her and twisted to see her as he said, “How many does it take to pour oil on the outside walls of that store and spark a flame? Just one, I’m thinking.”

  Elizabeth said, “If you can just hold on for a while longer, my father will settle that account for all of us.”

  “Not with the same satisfaction.” He spurred his horse and took the lead again.

  His actions reminded me of another of those life-lessons that come in handy. There are soft-spoken men in the world that you never want to anger. Maybe someone smarter than me should make a list of all those little rules about only eating in places where the cook is fat or keep on the good sides of the maids and servants.

  Elizabeth hadn’t argued with him, either. She had offered him alternatives, but no criticism. Hell, if he asked for her help, she might even help him burn the place down.

  Kendra pulled her horse beside Alexis. “When this is over, can we spend some time at the port talking to people who travel?”

  “That would be a good place to start.” That was a good question. She assumed we were going to survive. I bit off a dozen stinging remarks. While my humor is considered by a few to be among the best, there are many who fail to understand or appreciate it. Timing is also an issue. This didn’t seem the right one. Or the right place.

  All of us rode with clenched jaws, fists gripping our reins, and eyes that roamed ceaselessly. A single bark from Springer drew weapons to our hands. My bow was ready as we rode. My sword had been adjusted for a quick pull, and the blade unseated from the scabbard for the ease of drawing it so many times my fingers were raw.

  For all that, there were no people to fight. None in sight. The few wyverns flew too high to reach, even if we were stupid enough to anger one with our little arrows. By the time we rested the horses beside a small stream at mid-day, we had not encountered a single person on the road built for heavy traffic. The larger streams and small river we crossed had stone bridges. Beside the road were discarded items, places to spend the night, and campfire pits. Yet there were no people.

  A wyvern flew over, but we were getting so used to it that we barely looked up. A glance at Kendra found her eyes bright and focused, however, her body was stiff, her fingers curled, the veins in her neck standing out. Neither of the others noticed.

  Elizabeth reclined on a blanket and asked, “Tater, you’ve been here. We are searching for the manservant to the Heir Apparent, and also a princess from Mercia and Lord Kent of Crestfallen. Where would you advise us to look?”

  “Ain’t a palace nothing like Crestfallen in Mercia, but there are stone houses where the important ones live. Probably five or six, in all, built on the side of a rocky hill. Around each is smaller, but still nice, houses for important servants and the like, and then the huts for the cleaners and such beyond those.”

  “Is there a town center?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Market? Of course. It’s on the flat. The valley floor.”

  “No, I meant more of . . . never mind. Is it going to be uphill all the way?”

  “It is. And before you ask, my travels brought me here maybe ten or twelve times in the last twenty years. There were always people going in both directions along this road. A lot of them.”

  “Why do you think that has changed?” Kendra asked.

  I’d watched the two of them question others in the same manner for years, what we called double-teaming. Not triple-teaming, which would have included me, but we never did that, anyhow. When the women went into their questioning mode, my job was to remain quiet and listen.

  That might sound as if they are slighting me, but we didn’t see it that way. We all have our individual skills, but as they say, too many cooks ruin the stew. Or soup. Whatever. Three people questioning makes a person feel picked on. Two clever women are inoffensive, and besides, they are better at it.

  I make a better listener. My mind is practical and does not get emotionally involved. And there is the idea that three sets of eyes see more than two.

  Tater finally responded to the question of change. As usual, he held nothing back and cut no corners. “Can’t say where the people are. What I suspect is that they are not here because of Kendra coming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  T ater’s comment about the road not having travelers because of Kendra’s approach lay between us like someone passing gas in a flower shop. It gets noticed. He didn’t appear upset, confused, or angry. He had just stated the facts, as usual, and without judgment. How he had managed to come to that conclusion, none of us knew. Silence ruled the small meadow where we rested.

  Elizabeth recovered first. “It may be for other reasons, Tater.”

  He rolled his eyes and called, “Springer, get your butt back here before one of those things swoops down and snatches you.”

  The abrupt change in conversation provided the chance I’d waited for. Behind my leg, out of sight of the others, my two fingers were held together and pointing at her, “Kendra, the pack on the horse is slipping to one side. Help me with it?”

  She stood and walked beside me. We untied and tightened a few ropes until Elizabeth and Tater were talking. “What’s happening to you when the wyverns fly over?”

  “I’m fighting it, or them.”

  “Does that work?”

  “Now that it’s happened so many times, my mind is closing down, shutting them out. Not all the way, but some.”

  “Good. You’re making progress.”

  “We have another problem,” she said.

  “Tell me. Make it quick, Elizabeth just looked over here.”

  “Think of walking in the forest and in the distance, you hear the faint sounds of a waterfall. The closer you get, the louder it is, and the more details in the sound you hear. It’s not a waterfall, but there’s something making itself known the closer we get to Mercia. Something evil.”

  Elizabeth and Tater stood and gathered the blankets and supplies as calmly as if they had enjoyed a picnic together. She laughed softly at something he said. Tater threw a stick and Springer loped after it.

  “Ride beside me,” I said, almost an order.

  “You’re scared.”

  “You use the word evil and wonder at my concern?”

  She turned her back and helped put away the blankets. The day had turned clear and bright, the mud had mostly dried except in puddles on the road. The undergrowth had thinned as we climbed hill after hill, each seemingly larger than the last.

  While knowing Mercia was
built on a small mountain, the terrain and the desolate appearance took me by surprise. We entered a rugged land of barren rock covered with hardly enough dirt to grow grass. Here and there a tuft of green stood out. In contrast, Crestfallen was also built on the side of a mountain, one green and full of trees.

  The few shrubs and grass all pointed at us from ahead, the stalks bent. Without the protection of surrounding plants, the ceaseless wind off the sea bent them all inward. We rode into a steady breeze that undoubtedly blew hard enough to scour the soil from the gray rocks.

  Kendra leaned closer to me and lowered her normally loud voice. “Feel it? Inside your head?”

  “No.”

  She sat upright, without argument. There was something she heard or felt, something that eluded me. We rode until Tater waved an arm at the base of a jagged ridge. An arched stone bridge crossed a small river, and on the far side a flat area spread out. Even from a distance, several fire pits were evident, and two already had fires burning, with several people in sight.

  My mind was working in strange ways. Instead of wondering who the people were and if they were dangerous, or why they were the first we’d encountered, I wondered where they had gotten the wood to burn. With no trees in sight, they had campfires. Inconsistencies made me wary.

  We rode across the bridge and took a small trail that wound down below the ridge to the base of the bridge. As soon as we headed down the incessant wind quit. Quit is the wrong description. It continued blowing but blew above us and the depression with the fire pits. That explained why travelers stopped there. Freshwater and lack of wind.

  The first and third fire pits had people at them. The air held a dampness the wind carried, and it was late in the day. Tater went directly to the second location, and we pulled up beside him and started unloading our things. The stone support for the bridge at the edge of the water acted as a dam to catch trees, shrubs, and branches carried by the river. A tangle of wood had piled up behind the support and dried in the sun. The same thing probably happened every spring. By late summer the supply of firewood would be gone because of the people camping at the location.

  I knew none of that for sure, it simply seemed right. We hobbled the horses after they drank their fill from the river but would have to wait for food. There was none.

  Tater and I hauled enough wood to last the night. A scrawny man with a scraggly beard wandered to our fire and introduced himself, as Scratch. From his appearance, the name sort of fit. He said, “You runnin’ away too? If so, you’re goin’ the wrong way.”

  Elizabeth sat on a boulder conveniently located beside the fire pit or the other way around. She said, “Please take a seat and join us for some conversation, Mr. Scratch.”

  “Scratch. Just Scratch, pretty woman. Just sayin’ most sensible people left Mercia when the trouble started back a couple of months ago.”

  “Trouble?” she raised her eyebrows to encourage him to keep talking.

  “From every which way.” He bent closer as if he didn’t want anyone at the other fires to hear him. “All hell’s about to break loose up there.”

  “How so?” Elizabeth asked, and as always, she impressed me. She hadn’t asked for a warning, showed fear, and acted as if she cared. But she encouraged Scratch to keep talking.

  “Them wyverns are acting nuts, some say, but not me. There’s more going on.”

  “What would it be that concerns you?”

  His face became drawn and serious. “I’m no mage but have a touch of powers, some say. The air is tingling, like right before a storm. Let your mind reach out, and you’ll know.”

  Kendra said, “People feel a tingle and leave Mercia?”

  Tater said in agreement, “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it?” Scratch asked. “If so, then nearly everyone who can leave turned crazy. Only ones left there are foreigners. Everybody is gone, and nobody else is going there. Nobody but you four. We want to know why. Insist on it, if you catch my meaning.”

  “We don’t feel what you do,” Tater said, standing as if readying himself for a fight. “And insisting on anything is a poor way to treat strangers.”

  Scratch stood, too. “We, all of us here want to know why you’re running the wrong way. Are you joining them?”

  Even though Springer sat quietly and calmly beside Tater’s leg, Tater reached down and took a firm grip on the fur at the dog’s neck, pulling it back so hard it almost fell over backward. He snapped, “Calm down dog. You aren’t biting nobody else today.”

  Kendra placed a hand on her mouth to cover her smile. The dog was small and ugly, and if it had done anything but lick someone, none of us would believe it. Springer was exactly what Tater had asked for. He was a barker. All bark and no bite, but in the middle of a dark night in the wilderness, it was the kind of dog a traveler wanted.

  My eyes roved over the people at the other two fire pits. All had ceased their chores and were watching us. Their facial expressions went from distrustful to hateful. None were friendly, or even disinterested. The next observation was that they were scared. People who are frightened of the unknown react in bad ways to strangers.

  The last of the daylight was fleeing, as we might consider doing. There were a lot more of them than us. I prepared to fight alongside Tater and knew Kendra and Elizabeth would join right in. It seemed like we would either fight or face-down a dozen people who didn’t want us near them. I turned to Elizabeth for direction.

  “Why are we here, you ask? My father, the king, sent us here. That’s all you need to know, other than my name is Princess Elizabeth, and you will all bow in my presence.” When Scratch didn’t immediately bow, she continued, coldly. “Damon, if this man does not show me the proper respect due to a princess, kill him where he stands.”

  My hand already rested on the hilt of the knife, my magic ready to aim my throw and speed it along to wherever my target stood. The others at their firepits watched coldly. They looked either scared or aggressive—or both.

  Scratch suddenly threw his hands to grasp the sides of his head, as if he heard a sound so loud it hurt. His face twisted, and he fell to his knees in the dirt. He begged forgiveness and for us to stop hurting him, thinking it was something we did to him. Finally, he stood, backed away from us in terror, and turned to see if he had help from those he traveled with.

  However, before they could respond, Kendra said, “Leave this place. Take the others with you. To return here before morning means your death. I speak for my princess and her mage.”

  That did it. A woman gasped, another squealed, and people began moving. Belongings were thrown together, although they didn’t take time to get them all, and a dozen people faded into the darkness as if they had never existed, leaving the campfires burning cheerfully. They fled up the path to the road, and we heard them rapidly and quietly crossing the stone bridge.

  Springer would wake us if any returned. It was easy to feel sorry for them—or not.

  Kendra said, “The man called Scratch claimed to have powers. It seemed a lie, but when he fell to his knees and grabbed his ears, my head hurt, too. I heard what he did, but not as loud, maybe. The low throbbing became intense and turned into pain as black as the darkest night.”

  Tater said, “You’re feeling it too? Like these other people?”

  Elizabeth had been tossing wood onto the fire and paused, her attention on Kendra. It had been a slip of the tongue, and now there was nowhere to go with the information but ahead. Ignoring Elizabeth, she said, “Yes, don’t you hear it Tater? Damon?”

  While shaking my head, I said, “Scratch said he had a touch of the powers, or something similar. He said the air is buzzing and driving people away. How about you, Elizabeth?”

  “No, not for me, but he was the only one to fall to his knees. However, he as much as said everyone in Mercia could hear it.”

  “Tingling like before a storm,” Tater said. “I can feel that but thought it natural. Like a storm is coming . . .”

  “No tingli
ng here,” I said.

  “Nor here,” Elizabeth added. “Maybe when we get closer. Some people might be more sensitive.”

  Elizabeth had provided the excuse we needed for Kendra’s slip. My mind was almost convinced when I happened to catch the glint from her eyes as she watched me from the other side of the fire. Nothing got past her. She was worried.

  I helped with the blankets and food, always keeping my face turned away from Elizabeth. The only way out of this was to share some small item and hope that was enough to keep her off the scent of what was happening. Kendra would need to figure out what powers she had if any, and what to do about them. Plus, what to share with Elizabeth and when. It was not my decision.

  The last two wyverns that had flown past had made Kendra tense, but her eyes remained alive as she had watched them. As she had said, she was learning how to close her mind to them, whatever that meant.

  We ate in near silence, tired and withdrawn. The simple trip from one end of the kingdom to the other had become anything but. Tater seemed to sense the tension and resolved it by eating his fill quietly and laying down. His snores soon followed.

  “A wyvern comes,” Kendra muttered.

  “What about it?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I sense one coming near.”

  “You can sense them now?” Elizabeth asked. “In the dark? How?”

  “They do something with my mind. I’m fighting it. Maybe all the people who have left Mercia feel it too.”

  Elizabeth said, “If a whole city full of people fled, why didn’t we meet them on the road?”

  My turn to speak. “They left days ago. Scratch said months, I think.”

  “We didn’t see them anywhere,” she continued as if my words went unheard.

  “That’s because we avoided the road by taking that mountain pass, and then we went to get some of our things back. By then they were either past us, taken other roads, or had found places to stay. Those are just guesses.” I firmly closed my mouth because it even sounded stupid to my ears.