The Last Dragon [Book One]

by LeRoy Clary

  “There is more,” she said, sounding excited and apprehensive at the same time. “Now that the dragon is free, the others cannot draw her essence. I’m not sure how it worked, but it somehow depended on them preventing her from depleting her energy.”

  “Her?”

  “It is a she. The dragon normally keeps that energy to herself, and essence is the wrong word. There isn’t a perfect name, but life-force is closer. It is sort of like our spirit, our consciousness. All that was drawn from the dragon while a prisoner made her weaker. Too much drawn from her and she would have died.”

  “That’s why the Blue Woman was so concerned.”

  “And why the mages went to Mercia. The dragon’s life-force was diminishing because of an unknown being drawing it away. Me. I was drawing it away without even knowing. The mages and others didn’t know what was happening, so they called an emergency gathering and somehow discovered it was a person but didn’t know who I was. They set traps all over because they knew I’d come to Mercia. The trap with the Kondor in the mountains was only one of many.”

  A sense of strangeness and jealousy filled me. I had my small magic, and it only seemed right they would search for me. Kendra had none of my powers. The situation was reversed in a way that confused me. I’d hidden my powers to prevent just such a discovery, but instead, it was Kendra they wanted—and she flaunted her newly acquired powers.

  We passed a few people on the road and warned them, but all already knew something was happening, even if they didn’t know specifics. Bad news travels fast.

  I asked, “Elizabeth has other plans?”

  “She wants to lead an army to Mercia and the port. Prince Regent James will order it because he will need to know what is happening and that there is no danger to the kingdom.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “You’re asking for a reason to stall?” she asked.

  “Three days for her to get back, two for the conference to appoint the Prince Regent, at least two more for the army to prepare to march, and four to reach Mercia. That is eleven days,” I told her.

  “What is the significance of that?”

  “You and I have to survive eleven days with none of my magic, against ten mages and probably spirits, ghosts, sorceresses, and witches—and all they command.”

  We reached a stream that flowed across the road, no more than ankle-deep. Over the years, locals had gathered small stones and gravel to make a firm crossing for wagons. We knelt and drank our fill while the horses did the same. They ate tall grass beside the stream while Kendra was distracted, lost in her own ideas. I said nothing. She was lost in thought and would work out whatever bothered her.

  She finally turned to me, her face pale. A twitch had developed in her left eye. “I’m going to try something. Don’t be alarmed.”

  Her eyes closed. The twitch was still there, but she ignored it. She drew in a deep breath and knitted her eyebrows. She stiffened with a jolt, and her eyes flew open. Her head tilted back a little, and she stared at the sky.

  The dragon flew into sight.

  “You called it?” I asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t know if it would work.”

  “Tell it to change directions a little to the right,” I suggested.

  The dragon turned to the left. She said, “Like that?”

  “I said to the right, but maybe dragons don’t know their directions.”

  “Not her,” Kendra snorted. “My right or hers? I assumed you meant hers.”

  “So, you can control it?”

  “Control her? No, not really. She seems to obey my suggestions, but it’s not like we’re talking or anything like that. Don’t ask more questions right now because I’m scared enough to pee myself. A dragon just did what I told it. Damn.”

  Not being able to hold back my ideas, I grinned.

  “What?” she snapped at me.

  “Just thinking. There are ten mages and who knows what all sort of spirits and nasty things against us. Just the two of us—and one great big nasty dragon that tears apart whole cities.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Is too,” I said then dropped the subject before she hurt me. Still, the core of my joke was true. It appeared the dragon was always near Kendra and always ready to defend or protect her. Perhaps it understood that she had freed it. Four hundred years gave it a long time to think. The dragon continued to fly until out of sight. I would bet it remained close to Kendra, even if we couldn’t see it.

  A woman carrying a heavy sling made of a quilt walked rapidly in our direction. She had to bend at the waist to walk because of her load, and when her eyes raised to find us, she veered off across a pasture at a walk-run, which was as fast as she could move. Kendra drew her horse to a halt and turned to watch. When the woman saw her do that, she dropped the quilt, and whatever was inside, then she sprinted for the trees.

  “Scared,” my voice so soft it was not intended for my sister.

  “Of us,” Kendra responded.

  Why? The answer came easily. There was fighting ahead. Well, perhaps not fighting so much as killing. I turned and looked behind at the vacant road, and then ahead to find the same. The few people who had been traveling earlier were gone.

  “We need weapons. I only have my sword.”

  “Bows. And a few strong recruits wouldn’t hurt, either. Where can we get them?” Kendra asked, but she was always more practical than me. I stated a need, she figured out how to fulfill it.

  A farm drew my attention. Instead of the usual one or two room house and leaky barn, it was two stories tall, a rarity. The barn was large enough to hold two of the houses, and the fields surrounding it were plowed, some planted, and others fallow. Sheep grazed with goats and a few cows. Nobody was in sight.

  My first thoughts were that in a city, people seldom displayed their wealth with fancy outsides to their homes. When marauders, conquering armies, or even common thieves chose their victims, they went for the money. Most of the wealthy people I’d met lived in very plain buildings on the outside, little different from any others. It was only when you went inside that you found the chandeliers with crystals to reflect light, walls painted by masters, and statues carved so well they took your breath away.

  The farmhouse defied good sense. That made me uneasy. Still, we needed a place to spend the night because we wouldn’t reach Mercia before dark.

  I pointed. “Let’s go there.”

  After the slightest hesitation, while she probably considered all I had, but in far less time, she nodded. We turned down a lane and rode boldly, or in a manner I hoped appeared bold, right up to the house. Not even a barking dog greeted us.

  The doors to the barn were fastened open. No animals were inside. We rode to the front of the house while watching for the slightest movement in one of the many windows, another ostentatious sign of wealth. Most farmhouses had only a single small window if that.

  “Wait here,” I ordered, happy my voice hadn’t betrayed my fear. I dismounted and hammered a fist on the door. When nothing happened, my hand gently lifted the iron latch and pushed, my other hand gripped my sword. The door swung open, and nothing else happened.

  I walked inside to find a sitting room with a dining table and kitchen beyond and motioned for Kendra to follow me. The house felt empty. There is a difference when people are there. It might be the smallest of sounds or smells. Yes, it was probably smells or lack of them. People have odors, their breath smells, the fire cooking their food smells, and more. The bottom floor felt empty.

  At the top of the stairs spread a landing and four doors. Behind each door were sleeping mats and personal items for three or more, all but the last one. It was the largest, and only a single person had slept there. A man. It had the stink of sweat, a pile of dirty clothing caked with mud and earth. None of the objects in the room was feminine.

  One wall held an assortment of weapons on pegs, one of the objects of our search, but we’d never expected to find a hoard like the one han
ging there. A war ax, two broadswords, a pair of spears, various knives, and four bows, all different. I went to the bows. Two were so old the wood would snap at a pull. Two were newer, one a longbow, the other a common variety for hunting. Quivers held long and shorter arrows. I gathered them and noticed more pegs—without weapons. Almost as many empty pegs without as those with them—and that struck me as odd.

  The hair on my neck tingled. I moved to the nearest peg and looked carefully at the top before running my finger along the surface. Near the end was a layer of dust. Closer to the wall was none. They had held weapons recently, probably this morning, would be my guess. A lot was missing, and that told me the people who lived here were expecting trouble and were armed.

  I flew down the stairs and found Kendra still snooping. She held up a single sheet paper. “It has a name. Braun. There was a general who served Elizabeth’s grandfather with that name before we were born. He lost an arm in a battle and was awarded a tract of land and gold for his service and bravery. I read about him in a book. He was a hero.”

  “Hold these,” I thrust the bows and quivers at her. My feet pounded on the bare wooden floor to the owner’s room again. The pile of dirty clothing drew my attention. I grabbed a shirt and carried it downstairs. There was one sleeve sewn to the body of the shirt so it wouldn’t flop while he worked. Obviously, a man with one arm missing.

  Kendra went back to the small desk and pulled ink and quill, then searched for more paper. She found another letter and turned it over to use the back. A few quick words explained our theft, and we departed, careful to latch the front door. However, we also took a pair of heavy blankets for each of us. We also raided the kitchen for a sack of food. At the barn, a cask held grain for the horses, and we filled a leather bag, then we rode back up the lane.

  “They’re watching us,” she said. “There were dirty dishes and a bowl of soup. It hadn’t been there a full day.”

  “No, I don’t think so. But a good general would have a safe place nearby where the family could hide.” Then in a concession to the feelings we shared, I continued, “He might leave one of the older boys to watch the place instead of remaining where he’s sure to be attacked. He’d run to safety when needed.”

  “That’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “That farmhouse will attract anyone from Mercia, especially those looking for us.”

  “Or for riches to steal. Do you think the mages are actually looking for us?”

  She cast me one of those looks again. “Well, they were earlier, and nothing’s changed, I suppose so.”

  Ignoring her snide remarks, my response was cool and agreeable, “I guess so, too. Tater’s rubbing off on me. I’d rather sleep in the forest tonight than in that comfortable house. Searchers will look in the house before anywhere else.”

  We knew the forests would end soon and we’d face the open expanse of desolation where nothing grew. I pointed Alexia to a small path that took us off of the road. After a few steps, I slipped off the horse and went back and smudged the hoofprints with my palm, carefully working the soft mud until it appeared as it had before we turned. The final hoofprints on the road also got my attention, and they were eliminated as well as possible. Then I walked over them as if a traveler had walked that way. My attempts might keep our departure hidden, especially in the dark. A few more innocent travelers on the road would help hide our prints too, but I saw no sign of that happening.

  The trail took us up the side of a rounded knoll, where a small meadow spread out. There was no running water, but from there we had a clear line of sight to the road in both directions, while the tops of the trees growing on the lower slope of the knoll protected us from sight. Kendra fed the horses grain from the sack and staked them for the night where they could eat. I found a deep firepit with two rows of rocks piled high around the edges. A small stack of cut firewood sat beside it.

  That told me others had watched the road from the knoll. Nothing said who, but I could think of no reason an honest man would be there—excluding us. Still, it was perfect for us, or for highwaymen. We wouldn’t chance a fire, but it gave us a place to spend the night where we might see our enemy before he saw us. What more could we ask?

  Kendra and I sat together and watched the empty road. Near dark, a single man on a horse rode past, heading away from Mercia. The horse had big hooves, useful in working the fields, so they didn’t sink into soft ground, no saddle, and the rider was dressed as a farmer. Kendra said, “He’s scared.”

  “Something bad is happening behind him, or he would walk that horse.”

  “He’s coming from where you and I are going in the morning. Maybe we should have stopped him,” she said.

  “Do you think we could have?”

  She shook her head. “No, he’d have turned into the fields and escaped. Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes, but you won’t like it.”

  “Tell me,” Kendra said, turning to face me, her expression stern.

  “I plan to do whatever my sister says.”

  She didn’t answer for so long I thought she might not. Then, without any humor in her voice, she said, “I’m afraid we are going to kill people. That is the only plan I have.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  K endra’s prediction that we were going to kill people came out of nowhere, and it sat on my mind like the dragon crushing an outhouse. It was so unlike her. She was the kindest, most gentle person I knew. Those words coming from her created an impact like being struck with an ax. Once, she had berated me for killing a field-mouse that had made its way inside our apartment. For my penance, she ordered me to devise a trap that would catch any future mouse intruders without hurting them. I did it, and I suffered the guffaws and insults of other boys my age for months as I carried my tiny captives outside for release.

  I went to the horses and returned with the bows and quivers. Enough daylight remained to inspect them. There are graveyards full of soldiers who did not care for their weapons or inspect them before a battle.

  Both bows were in good condition, but the pull on the longbow was almost too much for me. I handed the smaller, hunting bow to Kendra and watched her examine it as well as any archer would. She pulled an arrow and sighted down the shaft and spun it to ensure it was straight. The tip was metal, and sharp. She selected another and repeated the process.

  We sat on blankets, but the night was still warm, even without a fire. Only a gentle breeze caressed us. Our positions were such that I watched the north road over her shoulder while she watched the south. Once finished inspecting the weapons, we remained silent until I pulled a raw carrot and crunched it. She cast me a warning look, but I continued, and just to let her know who was in charge, I chewed with my mouth open.

  “We should talk,” she said between the noise of me chewing.

  I sat the carrot aside in favor of a thick slice of cheese.

  She took half and waited as she watched the last of the light fade. “We’re not going to Mercia, you know.”

  “There’s nothing left there,” I agreed.

  “We bypassed a small city called Andover. I suspect many of those who fled in the last few days went there.”

  “The rest?” I knew she was directing the conversation to where she wished.

  “The port.”

  “So, we are going there, too?”

  “Andover first. Then the port,” she said as calmly as if ordering morning tea.

  After waiting for her to continue, I prompted her because she seemed to be thinking about other things. “Why are we going to either?”

  “We have to locate ten mages and anyone who worked with them—before they find and kill us.”

  That sounded ominous. But it also brought up other questions. “How will we find them? If mages no longer have their powers, what danger are they?”

  She rolled her eyes at me, in the old familiar way that said I was not paying attention. “They still have their powers, just not a source of the essence to draw upon and use them
. The dragon can still be captured again, and without a doubt, they are devising plans to do that.”

  “Then, keep the dragon away from them and foil their plans. We don’t have to go there to do that.”

  “If only it were that easy. Listen, there are things you do not yet know or understand. The mages and their supporters are bad people. The king’s illness is a direct result of their activities, I believe. He wished to remove all mages from the kingdom. Elizabeth told me about it. Just as he was about to make that proclamation, he fell sick with the mysterious illness and remains so.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Without a doubt. Then comes the crime of penning an animal in a cave for centuries. Can you imagine the anguish the dragon endured? How it woke each day wishing it would die? How its life was being drawn from it and used by mages and others?”

  “Including me?”

  She shrugged and asked, “If you had known what you were doing, would you have used magic?”

  “You mean draining the life from that poor creature? Of course, not.”

  “A person cannot be held responsible for things they do not know. Those who did know and continued to do so, and even helped imprison the dragon are responsible.” She was getting angry, and her clipped words told the story. “And now that they have experienced all that power, more than any king in history, they will not give it up.”

  “They have lost the dragon, the essence they drew upon. If you look at it one way, it’s over. Killing the last dragon would end the possibility of them regaining control.”

  Kendra leaned closer, but instead of agreeing with me and muttering a few nice words for my insights, she punched my shoulder. “Think!”

  I had been. At least, thought so. There must be things missed by my simple calculations.

  She said, “The dragon is a she.”

  It seemed prudent to wait for more information before risking another punch.