by LeRoy Clary
Kendra threw her arms wide in frustration at my limited abilities to predict where her mind would go next. “She. Female. Eggs.”
“Escaped dragon,” I countered. “No eggs. No male.”
“Eggs were collected while she was held, prisoner.”
“Male sperm. None.” My wit and understanding of basic breeding facts exceeded hers.
“Wyverns. Related species.”
She had me there. “Really?”
“Maybe. We don’t know, but it is a possibility they can breed their own dragon—or half-dragon. They kept the dragon in a suspended existence and might have done the same with fertilized eggs.”
“That’s bad,” I agreed. “But it would take years and years to mature a hatched egg, and that gives us time.”
Kendra flashed a smile that told me she was going to destroy that argument somehow. “There is more you haven’t figured out, yet. I can still hear the wyverns. Remember them?”
“Of course.” We had just talked about cross-breeding them.
“Think! I hear them. Only two creatures, dragons, and wyverns are inside my mind. It seems logical that mages can draw essence from wyverns, too. Probably not as much. That’s why they didn’t allow them to go extinct. They are the backup plan.”
She was right. On all counts. A mature dragon probably provided a much larger pool of essence, perhaps a more powerful one, too. But a wyvern was so closely related, and they also touched Kendra’s mind. Perhaps three or four could equal the essence available from a single dragon. Or a hundred. It didn’t matter.
We might also be wrong on all counts. Wyvern essence might not be able to be used by mages, but the odds said otherwise. Like anything else, essence was neither good nor bad. The people using it decided that.
A mage might cure sickness, feed the poor, cure blight from crops or reduce famine. He might also use it to help a king rule and provide benefits to the population, water in a drought, protection from enemies, and relief from natural disasters.
But the opposite was also true. A mage or sorceress wishing unlimited wealth and power could use the same essence for personal gain. The mages in the palace had lived in as much splendor as any king. They wore the best clothing, all made by other’s hands. They ate the most expensive foods, imported and prepared for them. They wielded power above any king, with none of the onerous and mundane duties of ruling required of a king. Their only requirements were to attend balls, appear at royal gatherings, and provide occasional bolts of lightning to impress the crowds.
Sure, they also regulated the amount of rainfall, but those services might only be needed once a decade. Bands of roving marauders were a thing of the past in Dire, but if they became an issue, a mage would drop a tree on them or bury them in a landslide. Then, he had another decade of endless luxury to enjoy.
“Well, you sure quit talking,” Kendra laughed.
“You convinced me. No mage or sorceress will willingly give up what they have.”
“What about you?” she asked in a genuinely curious tone.
It was a good question. It was like a gambler who carried a spare block of sixes hidden up his sleeve. With that, he could win any pot. Knowing that gave him the confidence to never have to use his cheat. My small magic gave me that sort of mental edge. Not having to use it, and not using it, were advantages to me in all situations.
Would I miss that power? Of course. Could my existence continue as it had? Maybe, there would be adjustments, but the use of my magic had been seldom and slight. “It will change things. Given a choice, my wish would be to keep it.”
“We should sleep, now.”
Her abrupt words jarred me and assured there would be no sleep for me for a long time. The moon rose, mosquitoes swarmed, and bats swooped. I liked bats. Each mosquito they ate was one less to eat me. Farmers often placed bat-houses under their eves and near ponds kept for watering their stock. Mosquitoes had become a problem in the palace, some said because of the old moat which was fed by a diverted stream. A bat-house for right outside my window was nearly finished, a secret project in case it failed. If it worked, both Kendra and Elizabeth would get one.
To avoid the pests, I pulled the second blanket over my head, and all of me was safely underneath. Sleep came quickly.
Kendra woke me as she tried to move silently in the early morning foggy air. If she had moved naturally, my sleep might have continued. She had both horses ready, their saddles cinched tight, and our few belongings ready. The new longbow and quiver hung on a loop from my saddle. Her blankets were rolled and tied behind hers.
The road was unseen through the dense fog, common near the sea.
We mounted, without taking time to eat. The city of Andover couldn’t be far, and hot food would be there if we were lucky. As always, the fog seems to absorb all sounds, so the morning was unnaturally quiet.
The road was again empty of travelers. It made me uneasy so as we rode slowly, I unfastened my belt holding my sword and slid the quiver onto it, then adjusted it, so it rode next to, but behind my scabbard. I carried the bow in my left hand—it was that sort of still and silent morning. Sounds seemed to be absorbed, leaving a vacuum of quiet.
As Kendra had said last night, we were going to kill people. Maybe today. Of course, they might be thinking the same thing about us.
I said, “Can you hear the dragon or wyverns right now?”
We rode side by side, knee to knee. “Yes. The dragon is up ahead, but close enough to be here quickly if needed.” She paused. “I don’t know why I said that. But, it will come if called. The wyverns are off to our right, a long way. They are upset and scared.”
“There may be mages searching for us in Andover.”
“Wearing your quiver like that is a good idea so you can reach the arrows quickly, even if you dismount. It is also a warning to anyone looking our way.”
“Maybe you should, too.”
Instead of answering, she changed the subject, which was almost becoming normal for her. “Remember each time the Blue Lady came to us? How did she know where we were?”
“That’s something I’ve never considered.”
“She came to us three times. This might be a mistake in the way I’m thinking, but in my mind, are the dragon and wyverns, but there are more creatures, too. Unfamiliar things. Alive.”
“Can you sense me? I mean, tell when I’m close?”
“No. But ahead is probably Andover. There are three different things in my mind. Small. Distinct. Beyond, in what is probably the Port of Mercia, there are six more of them.”
“Describe them,” I said.
She rode in silence before speaking as if to a child. “Wyverns sound like bees buzzing, the dragon is a large drum, and within all of that are pinpoints of sound, like the chirp of birds. When concentrating, the direction of them is clear, the distance is unsure. Maybe after getting closer, the chirps will increase and give some sense of distance. Once we find one, I’ll know what they are.”
“Mages,” I decided, with no further information. Six and three made nine, and we’d been warned of up to ten mages waiting for us. One might have died or departed on a ship.
The fog began to lift. We’d left the trees behind and the branch of the road to Mercia, too. We followed the main road, and a smudge on the horizon was probably smoke instead of fog. Winters can be brutal in Dire, and each building would have one or more fireplaces, some three or four. All those emitting smoke as homes were warmed on a foggy, damp spring morning left a pall visible from a distance, well before individual buildings could be seen.
Kendra declared, after a long silence, “The three chirps are definitely getting stronger.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A fter Kendra said the three voices in her head were becoming more distinct as we approached Andover, we didn’t speak. My left hand gripped the bow tighter, and each person that came into view was suspect. More people used the road, worked outside, and did all the normal things expected, however, the
re seemed more of them. If the refugees from Mercia fled here, the city was flooded to overflowing with people—and it seemed that way.
Children played in the streets, dogs chased them and barked at us, cats lounged in the morning sun, and cattle grazed. Nearly every house and building surrounded by vegetable gardens and fruit trees. The haze of smoke had stained the rock buildings a uniform ash-gray. Since the landscape was barren and rock abundant, the locals used it for construction.
Kendra slowed and asked a woman carrying a large basket, “Where is the market?”
A finger pointed, then the woman strode off on her own mission. We rode slowly, my eyes taking it all in, not from the perspective of a visitor, but as a warrior. I watched rooftops, alleys, and corners. My mind calculated paths suitable for escape. Kendra dictated where we would go, and how to get there. She would tell me when we were close to any of the three chirps we needed to investigate.
Until we located one, the visions in her head might be anything, including birds. However, we didn’t think so. The horses moved easily down the crowded street paved with blocks of uneven gray stone. Every house held six, eight, or more people. The shops were crowded, the noise intolerable.
After two more turns, we located the market square, and it too was overflowing with people. A vendor at the edge sold fried meat pies, a favorite of mine. We bought two for each of us but didn’t dare leave our horses in the mass confusion for fear of never locating them again. We had no reason to enter the market itself or try to navigate our horses in the sea of humanity.
Kendra pointed to a stand of trees that was a small park for children. We rode there and stood at the edge, reins in hand while we ate. Children played, shouted, and otherwise were as they should be. One asked me to join in a game, and at another time I’d have taken him up on it.
Kendra said, “One of the chirps if that is what we’re going to call them, is close. I want to ride down that road over there,” she pointed.
“How accurate do you think finding them that way will be?”
“Who knows until we try.” She kicked her heels to her horse as if shutting off more conversation. She swerved to avoid a hand-truck laden high with cabbages, forcing the small man to turn aside and a few cabbages rolled off and down the road. Despite his curses, I pulled a small coin and tossed it to him as I rode past to catch up with her.
She slowed two streets away and jutted her chin at a building. It was two stories high, as were most in the area, made of gray stone, and above the door hung a swinging sign of a dancing bear. It was an inn. A short alley with a similar sign, however with a horse led the way to the stable.
Kendra never hesitated. Once in the stable, she paid a boy, and we entered the great room of the inn from the rear door. Without a pause to look around, or at the dozen people inside, she walked confidently to an unoccupied table and sat. Our bows were with the horses, but my sword was at my side.
My sister sat with her back to the wall, in the corner where the massive fireplace stood. A dour woman of thirty swept crumbs from our table with a dirty cloth quickly wiped at most of the accumulated surface grime. “Ale,” I said, not waiting for the question to be asked, and needing time for my sister to examine everyone in the room. She looked past me, her eyes pausing on each until she found a plump man with piggish eyes. Instead of sitting behind me where I couldn’t see him, he sat only two tables off to one side.
“Is that him?”
She nodded, turning her head slightly away from him to prevent drawing his attention if he should look. He appeared average, as tall or short as most, brown hair, wide features. His age was perhaps forty, but if he was truly a mage, any of his outward appearances might be a creation of his imagination and magic. He talked with another man, one that caused me more worry.
The second man was taller, thin, and younger. He sat stiffly, like the military officers in the palace. His eyes continually scanned the other patrons. Once, as he shifted, the butt of a long knife hidden under his coat was exposed briefly. He was a fighter, at the very least. However, he was probably hired for protection.
The mugs arrived, and I declined food. The meat pies would hold us for a while. I tasted the sour ale and regretted not ordering wine. Meanwhile, the mage finished his mug and ordered another as the same dour woman walked near.
“He’ll need the outhouse, soon,” Kendra said. “Without his magic, it should be easy for you to take him captive and escort him into the barn.”
“The other one is there to protect him. They are not friends.”
“I can see that. You get the mage into the barn, and I’ll be along right after, but I will keep the soldier away, too.” She reached into the jacket she wore, and her fingers searched one of the small buttoned pockets sewn inside. Her hand returned to the table and inside was a bit of paper folded into a small envelope.
There were several small pockets inside that jacket, and each contained something of value. One was a slow poison, another a quick-acting one. Sometimes she might need time to get away before someone fell ill, and others might want it to react before he could harm her. There was a powder that put one to sleep when absorbed through the skin, and others. Each packet was colored to prevent mistakes.
The one she held was pink and white striped—the sleeping powder. Her hand brushing a bare arm would transfer enough of the sleeping powder to have a man sound asleep in a dozen moments, but better yet, he would grow drowsy instantly. Her other hand opened a green packet, which when mixed with liquid would prevent the action of the first packet from affecting her.
She dipped her fingers into her ale and splashed enough to wet her entire hand. The green packet contained a white powder. My eyes roamed the rest of the people as Kendra readied herself. There were no suspicious characters if you disregarded a few petty thieves, a gambler who obviously cheated, and a man who simply had the appearance of one not to trust.
No sooner had her hand dried than the mage she’d identified shouted for another ale. The maid delivered it almost before the words were out of his mouth, and as his hand reached for her backside, she slipped away untouched. Laughing his disappointment away, he downed half his ale, and his eyes went to his lap, a sure sign of what was to come.
I beat him to it. Following him would be a giveaway to his bodyguard. So, I stood and headed for the rear door and the outhouse I’d noticed on the way inside. Three steps took me to the edge of the building and around the corner to a thick shrub taller than me. After a quick glance to ensure the back was devoid of other patrons, and that I was out of sight for anyone who might live nearby, my knife filled my hand.
My imagination worked out the details inside the great room. As the mage stood to use the outhouse, so would Kendra. She would step up to the warrior and place her hand in his as she introduced herself, making sure to move her hand so as to spread the powder around for quicker results. As she continued to prattle about nothing, he would grow sleepy, and she would excuse herself and join us in the barn.
The rear door opened and banged closed. The mage staggered past the corner where I waited, and a few steps beyond before my arm went around his neck, the blade in my other hand pressed firmly to his neck. I turned him to the barn, and we entered.
The stable boy mucked a stall and froze in fear when we entered. I asked, “Are our horses ready?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Good. Now, I want you to go to the last stall way down at the end and don’t make a sound. I’ll leave you a full copper coin on this railing.”
His eyes got big at the offer, and his feet scrambled to obey. Kendra strode inside.
The mage said, “I have to piss.”
Kendra said, “How long did you help keep that dragon in the cave?”
“H-how?”
She slapped him across his face so suddenly and so hard my knife almost sliced his neck open. “Never mind. How many mages are you working with?”
He shook his head. He was not going to talk, even while drunk.
Kendra reached out and placed her palm on his bare cheek, allowing it to linger and transfer the sleeping powder. The stable boy had released our horses, and Alexis stood only a step away. When the mage’s knees went weak, I knew better than to lift him right away. As expected, he peed enough to fill an ale pitcher.
Kendra helped me heft his limp body up and over the horse. I climbed on behind him, after placing the copper coin promised to the boy on the railing. Kendra rode ahead, leading the way out of town the same what we’d entered.
A constable motioned for me to stop. I did, blinding him with my best smile as I explained the mage was a distant uncle who often downed too much ale and his wife had sent me to retrieve him again. As if to help my story, the mage burped loudly, and the constable waved us on. A believable lie told by an impish scamp was far better than fighting our way out of town.
Once beyond the houses at the edge of Andover, we turned off the road and followed a winding path to a stand of bare rocks the size of outbuildings. At the base was a campsite, unused for some time, but it met our needs.
We lowered the mage to the ground, and I asked. “How long will he sleep?”
“Until dark, at least. Tie him, and we will go back.”
That was an answer I didn’t expect. “How did you know it was him? That blip you told me about?”
“Sort of. Once we entered the inn, there was a sort of radiance about him. Something like the Blue Woman, but thinner, wispy.”
“So, now you think you can find a mage in a crowd?”
“Maybe. If they are all like him. But if we capture another we can pit them against each other and confirm their stories.”
Kendra, and most women, in general, are far more ruthless than men. However, for now, this was her show. The mage was secured with a good rope, not that I expected him to try and escape. He might not even wake up before we returned. My sister took care not to touch me so the man we left might wouldn’t be the only one sleeping by the end of the day.
Back in the center of town, she took several twisting streets, and Alexia followed without instruction. Finally, she slowed and watched a house carefully. It was also two-stories tall, stone, and in a wealthy section of the city. All the houses were built flush to the street with the wide sidewalks in front. The houses butted up against each other on their sides. Any unused land would be behind.
