Fire and Fate: Part 1 & 2 (Dragons of Galicia)

by Simone Pond

  “He was adopted.” Doran didn’t offer up any additional information.

  “Were you educated? You seem as though you were schooled. The manner in which you speak …”

  Doran maintained his silence, leading Evelyn to believe the topic was off limits. But the silence between them felt awkward and forced. She nervously filled it with more inquiries.

  “How exactly do you know how to track a zeevil dwelling?” she asked.

  He glanced over his broad shoulder, his pale green eyes lighting up with the sun’s rays. “Like I said, they’re quite messy.”

  Evelyn didn’t understand what he meant until she remembered what Vaughn had said about the dung. “So you track them by smell?” She laughed.

  He nodded.

  “Lovely.”

  The two continued down the craggy path. Going down the mountain was far more vexing than the journey up. Rocks and gravel slipped out from under the horses and every so often their hooves would skid in the dirt. Evelyn’s heart seized each time her horse jerked. She didn’t want to die somewhere in the Vindius Mountains, never to be seen again. In fact, she didn’t want to be on this ridiculous trek at all. She would prefer to be safely nestled inside Verubri Castle with Prince Kieran. She reminded herself that this difficult test would end soon. The thought gave her solace as they made the shaky descent toward the dung-infested caves to rescue a girl she could hardly tolerate.

  When the horses went down another pass, something in the trees flew out from its nest, spooking Evelyn’s horse. It began to neigh and buck. Evelyn gripped the reins with both hands, holding on for dear life. She didn’t want to go over the side of the mountain. Not after they had made it to the top and they were only a short journey from the castle. In her attempt to stay firmly mounted atop the bucking horse, the crystal stone she had placed inside the bosom of her corset came loose and slipped out from its hiding place.

  Time froze as she watched the crystal stone drop to the rocky path, hit the dirt, then bounce off the ground and arch right over the side of the cliff.

  3

  Evelyn rolled off the back of the horse and onto the ground, stretching her arm over the side of the mountain as if she could catch the crystal stone before it got away. But it was hopeless. The stone chinked against the rocks, echoing as it ricocheted off the boulders the entire way down.

  Doran dismounted and got a hold of her horse before it went over the side too. Then he pulled her off the ground. “What in Galicia’s name are you doing?”

  “The spear … I lost the spear …” she whimpered, though she loathed sounding so weak.

  “It went over the side?” Doran glanced down to the trees and rocks below.

  Evelyn groaned, staring at the vast distance between them and the ground.

  “Come on,” Doran said, patting her back.

  “You’re awfully nonchalant about this.”

  He mounted his horse and waved for her to get back up onto hers. “It found you once before, which means it will find you again.”

  Whether or not this was true didn’t matter. It was the only hope Evelyn could cling to as she hoisted herself back onto the horse and trotted behind Doran. “What do you mean by it found me? My mother put it in my travel bag the night before I departed Ocelum.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t you even know the ancient lure of your own kind?”

  Her own kind? Evelyn was still struggling to accept that she was the daughter of a legendary dragon slayer, let alone one herself. The concept hadn’t settled into her bones yet. The news, still fresh, remained on the surface of her skin, waiting to be absorbed.

  “I’m a bit new to this,” she admitted. “My mother only told me about my father the day prior to my departure. She gave me his journal, so I assumed she slipped the spear into my bag as well.”

  Doran shook his head. “The spear belongs to the bloodline of Gorias. Lugh of Gorias was the last dragon slayer known throughout the region to have brandished the weapon against one of the dragons of Galicia. He killed the matriarch and its partner came seeking revenge, forcing Lugh to return to his village to save his people. He disappeared and the dragon hasn’t been seen since. In fact, none of the dragons have made an appearance in nearly eighteen years. There are many stories and rumors, but no one knows the truth. Except perhaps the spear itself.”

  Evelyn sighed, annoyed with her mishap. “And now the spear is lost forever.”

  Doran laughed as he continued down the perilous path.

  “I fail to see why you find this predicament humorous,” Evelyn said.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said moments ago, my lady? The spear found you once, it will find you again.”

  “Very well. I’ll trust what you say. Although, I must be completely out of my gourd to trust a thief.”

  Instead of taking offense, Doran looked over his shoulder and gave her one of his seemingly flirty grins. “I haven’t always been a thief, my lady. A series of unfortunate circumstances led me down this road.”

  Evelyn waited for the rest of the story, but Doran kept it at that. Not one to dredge up the past, she let it go with a pang of disappointment. Though she couldn’t understand why she cared about the thief’s background in the first place. After all, wasn’t she in this mess because of him? She quickly stifled her curiosity and turned her attention to something shadowing the sky overhead. She peered into the cerulean sky to see a winged creature soaring across the mountain ranges.

  Now, that was undoubtedly a dragon.

  “Doran,” she whispered, but he was too far ahead to hear.

  When she looked up to the sky again, the creature was gone. Had she been hallucinating? Her lack of sleep was playing tricks on her mind and she feared she was losing it. She nudged her horse to trot forward and caught up with Doran.

  “You all right, my lady?” he asked.

  “I thought I saw something.”

  “A dragon?” he asked.

  “Why, yes!” Evelyn nearly shouted. “How did you know? You said no one has seen them in nearly eighteen years.”

  “That’s true,” he replied.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She panicked, nudging her horse to get closer to Doran’s.

  “They’ve been in hiding for quite some time … That is, until …” He paused, glancing over at Evelyn carefully.

  “Until what?” She shouted this time.

  “Until that spear appeared in your hands, my lady. I saw one of the buggers when we were on the mountain trail.”

  Evelyn shot him an incredulous glare. “And you thought it better not to mention it?”

  Doran shrugged. “Didn’t want to frighten you, my lady.”

  “I’m not frightened. I have the spear of Gorias!” She felt her face burning with the heat of frustration and perhaps shame for having just stated something that wasn’t exactly true.

  “Actually, you don’t have the spear at the moment,” Doran teased.

  The way he grinned brought some levity to the moment and she began to laugh. “Well, I suppose we better find it then.”

  “Indeed, my lady. And if it’s any consolation, I don’t believe the dragon is interested in our party. If it were, we would be long gone by this juncture.”

  “Well, good sir, I cannot tell you how very reassuring that is to know,” she said with a chuckle.

  The tree coverage became thicker the farther down the mountain they ventured and Evelyn welcomed the much-needed shade. The high temperature had forced her to remove her cloak, making her a target for the sun’s relentless rays. Her arms and face radiated with heat, so when the cool breeze came up from the ravine and brushed across her cheeks, she sighed in relief. For a brief moment, the chilled air soothed her burning skin, but on her next inhale, she almost fell off the horse … The putrid stench was so ripe and powerful, she gagged and gasped.

  “In the name of all things holy, what is that?” she shouted ahead to Doran.

  He called back to her, “That, my lady, is the rep
ugnant and dreadful mark of the zeevil. We’re encroaching on their territory.”

  Evelyn covered her face with the skirt of her dress, yet the rancid odor penetrated the material. “It’s a weapon in itself!”

  “Indeed, my lady. You will become inured to it soon enough.”

  She shook her head, coughing. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

  But Doran was somewhat correct in his assertion; by the time they reached the bottom of the mountain and trotted along the creek of the ravine, Evelyn was no longer fighting for air. She had torn a section from the bottom of her dress and wrapped it around her face, hoping the layers of material would serve as some sort of barrier against the repulsive stench. Her eyes stung and watered.

  “How will we locate Ciara? I don’t know how much longer I can bear this,” Evelyn said, her voice muffled under her makeshift mask.

  “First we must obtain your spear. We won’t go into the caves without it.” Doran peered up to the mountain and pointed. “I believe we were right about there when you lost the crystal stone.”

  She gazed upward. “Looks about right.”

  “Very well.” Doran dismounted his horse and stared up at Evelyn.

  “What shall I do?” She scanned the ravine, feeling overwhelming dread. The brush and bramble threaded throughout the rocks and trees and she guessed it would take hours to locate the stone in that unruly mess.

  “I suggest hopping down and removing that wrap from your face, then perhaps you could try standing near the rocks with your hands open,” said Doran.

  The idea sounded slightly ridiculous, but what other options did she have? She wanted nothing more than to recoup her spear, locate Ciara, and expedite this portion of the journey as much as possible. They needed to get back on the trail and to the castle. She jumped down, her shoes sinking and slurping in the gushy mud, and she trudged toward the rocks lining the side of the mountain.

  “So, just open my arms like this?” she called out to Doran, feeling rather silly.

  He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  Doran might’ve excelled at the art of thievery and tracking down zeevils, but Evelyn questioned his spear summoning abilities. She patiently stood with her arms stretched wide for a few moments, feeling more and more foolish with each passing moment. Her muscles, though strong from years of hard work, grew tired and strained.

  “This is ridiculous,” she blurted.

  “But you look adorable.” He snickered.

  Evelyn let her arms collapse to her sides with disgruntled relief. “No need to be snide.”

  Doran joined her side and patted her shoulder. “I wasn’t being snide, my lady.” He grinned and lowered his head apologetically.

  A rush of heat rose up Evelyn’s legs, drove straight through her middle, and throbbed in her chest. Light-headed, she felt herself sway slightly. Doran reached around her waist to hold her up.

  “Whoa …” she muttered. “I must be exhausted.”

  He helped her sit on a large rock. “Yes, that’s it, my lady. You’re sleep deprived. This will be over soon enough and we’ll be at the castle in a day’s time.”

  “That is, if we find Ciara and make it back up that mountain.”

  From his knapsack, he removed a canteen and handed it to Evelyn. She sipped carefully. The cool water quenched her parched throat and replenished her body.

  “One thing you had right,” she said, smiling.

  “What is that?”

  “I’m almost used to the stench of this place.”

  The two shared a brief moment of laughter, then Doran rose and stretched out his hand to assist Evelyn to her feet. It was time to try another approach for locating the spear of Gorias. Standing around with her arms stretched out hoping for the best wasn’t cutting it. The stone had to be somewhere in the brush among the rocks and she was about to suggest heading that way, but she didn’t get a chance. A black storm cloud thrust through the ravine, tearing up vines and tree branches as it approached.

  4

  The black storm cloud was no storm cloud at all, but rather a zeal of zeevils on a furious rampage. Doran grabbed Evelyn’s hand and yanked her into the trees, where they ducked behind one of the large pines. Her heart pounded so fast she thought it would burst from the top of her corset. Now would’ve been an exemplary time to have the spear of Gorias. Doran positioned himself before her and aimed his crossbow at the black mass of zeevils. Evelyn had never seen a more grotesque creature: large black insect-type beasts with rows of sharp teeth and hundreds of eyes. Their ear-piercing shrieks would send shocks through even the most valiant of Galician warriors. The swarm wove in and around the trees like a black, flooding river.

  “There are far too many!” she shouted.

  Doran stayed focused, keeping guard, but she knew he couldn’t hold them off on his own for much longer. Not wanting to be entirely useless, she scanned the area for something to ward off the zeevils. The rocks strewn about the ground would have to do. She picked up as many as she could and began hurling them one by one at the string of zeevils as they whizzed through the trees. She missed with each and every throw. They were too fast.

  “Go for the middle!” shouted Doran.

  She concentrated and took aim, pitching a large stone right into the heart of the swarm. The rock split apart the formation and caused confusion amongst the creatures. They slowed down and swirled around, the two lines bumping into each other. Not the cleverest of things, were they? This gave Doran time to take proper aim and fire off some arrows at the swarm’s navigators. They quickly fragmented into a disheveled, unorganized mess, becoming easier targets for Evelyn to hit with her rocks. She proceeded to knock down a slew of the creatures, jumping with delight as each one slammed to the ground with a thunk. The glory of battle rose and fueled her spirit.

  “This is so exhilarating!” she yelled out, hurling the rocks.

  “Excellent job, my lady!” Doran shot more arrows, picking off any zeevils that dared to get close.

  In the midst of Doran reloading his crossbow, three of the zeevils broke free of the swarm and headed toward them. Evelyn searched around for more rocks, but she had exhausted her nearby supply. Panic hammered in her ribcage as the trio zeroed in. Doran was still reloading. If he didn’t make haste, she would have to fight them off with her bare hands. The thought of coming into contact with the filthy creatures sickened her, but it would have to be done.

  Evelyn stood in front of Doran and shouted to the oncoming trio, “I’m Evelyn of Gorias, dragon slayer, and I will be the last thing you see!”

  She wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they felt right and rang true. And the moment she spoke those words, a blaze of white-blue light shot out from behind an embankment, careening toward Evelyn.

  Doran finished loading his crossbow and stared in awe as the spear soared through the air and found Evelyn’s hand, sliding perfectly into her grip. Electrifying power surged through her limbs, giving her a boost that shook the forest floor. She held the spear with overwhelming confidence as the zeevils made a quick approach. Before they got too close, Evelyn ran toward the disgusting oversized insects, holding back her spear. Then she launched herself skyward and aimed the sharp end toward the trio, hurling it with all her strength. The spear plunged into the first zeevil, then the second, and finally the third. Its velocity was so powerful, the skewer of zeevils catapulted all the way back into the swarm, further discombobulating many others. Evelyn and Doran watched the black mass quickly disperse and zip in the opposite direction.

  She ran to where the skewer of zeevils had landed on the ground and picked up the spear, scraping the dead creatures off. The spear cleaned itself of any goop the zeevils had left behind.

  “Thank you,” she said to the spear, admiring the pristine glow, which subsided before it went back to its dormant state.

  Doran jogged up to Evelyn. “They must be headed toward the caves. We should follow them if we’re to get to your friend.”
r />   “She’s not my friend!”

  “Come, my lady. I prefer we get this over with quickly before they reorganize and come back for us.”

  Evelyn nodded and gripped the spear. The two ran through the thicket of trees, trailing behind the swarm of zeevils. It wasn’t difficult to track them down with the stench getting more potent the closer they got to the caves. All along the foothills of the mountains sat giant piles of dung. Evelyn gagged and her eyes watered. They had obviously been in the right place—women wearing scarves around their faces shoveled piles and carried buckets away from the caves toward the river.

  “Good Galicia. This is hell on earth,” she said.

  “I agree.”

  “We must do something to save these poor women.”

  “Too risky, my lady. We can only save your … Ciara,” he said.

  She looked around at the women wearing filthy rags for frocks and their faces covered up with scarves. They looked emaciated and void of life. Their eyes were vapid holes leading to nowhere. Where had they come from? Judging by the diversity in hair and skin color, probably all over northern and southern Galicia. How long had they been imprisoned in this despicable life of slavery? Surely she couldn’t leave them behind knowing of these dire conditions. No one—not even Ciara, who happened to be her worst enemy—should be subjected to such a hellish existence.

  “I won’t leave them,” she said.

  Doran stood quietly a moment, observing the scene. What must he be thinking? If he thought leaving them behind was permissible, she told herself, she’d find her own way to Verubri Castle. She didn’t need Doran; after all, he was a good-for-naught thief.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he finally said. “But I must warn you, the zeevils don’t take this sort of thing lightly.”

  She grinned. “Neither do I. Come, we must find Ciara. She’s our first priority. One of these ladies should have information.”

  5

  Evelyn and Doran stood by the trees along the path to the river, waiting for one of the slave women to pass. Evelyn studied Doran, wondering why she cared what he chose to do. She also wondered why he was so close-lipped about his past. Only people with the darkest of secrets don’t share their history. This seemed like a warning she shouldn’t let slip through the cracks.