Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)

by Clare Smith

  Above them all she could hear Pellecus moving around as he tended the fire and cooked the oats which they ate every day. Even if he hadn’t moved she would have known he was there, as she could smell the leather of his sandals, the musky smell of his skin and the stronger odour of sweat from his clothes. There was another smell today which brought back poignant memories of her father and brothers as they prepared to go hunting.

  In her mind she could almost see them sharpening their knives and spear heads, and smell the tang of the whetstone as it ran down the edge of their blades. The memory made a tremor of fear pass through her, and instead of making her usual morning circuit she crossed to the other side of the cave’s mouth and edged along the rock wall until she stood as close to the fire as she dared. She knew when Pellecus looked up at her as she could hear the bones in his neck crack and the whetstone became still, so she smiled down at him.

  “Good morning, Pellecus.” She stopped there without asking the question she had in mind and waited for him to make the enquiry he had made every morning since they had arrived here.

  “Good morning, Amalaya. What foretelling has the goddess sent to you whilst you have slept?”

  “None, the goddess hasn’t spoken to me.”

  That was the other promise she’d made herself, although she hadn’t shared it with Athena. She had promised herself that she would close her mind to the dreams she’d once had and would never again have a foretelling. It was a difficult thing to do, especially when being asleep, but from the moment she’d regained consciousness in the wagon on the way to this place, she had decided she would never look into the future again. It was a promise she was determined to keep despite the feeling of emptiness inside of her, as if a part of her had flown away and had just left a hollow shell behind.

  Pellecus grunted as he always did to her negative response, and she could hear him put down the metal he had been sharpening and do something with his knife and a piece of wood which he kept in his belt pouch. It was the same every morning, but she had no idea what he was doing and was strangely reluctant to ask.

  “Are you going hunting, Pellecus?”

  He nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see him. “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “I could smell your blade where the whetstone has sharpened its edge.”

  Pellecus nodded again. The girl had come a long way from the miserable wretch he’d been ordered to bring here from the Great Temple. In those early days he’d been tempted to let her die, but the girl’s spirit had fought to live, so he’d done what he could to keep her alive.

  It might have been a kindness to have let her die though, or to have even cut her throat, for what future did she have? Without her eyes she was almost helpless, and the scarred face would ensure that no man, however lonely, would ever take pity on her and take her as his wife.

  “Will you be gone long?” she asked to break the silence between them.

  “That depends on how the hunting goes, but I should be back by dark.” He stopped abruptly realising that darkness wouldn’t mean anything to Amalaya. “I will return shortly after you have milked the goats for a second time today.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip and tried to push down the panic which was starting to rise within her. “Do you have to go? I don’t want to be alone.”

  The answer to that was no, he could just as easily kill one of the goats for their meat as go hunting wild sheep, but time was running out and Amalaya had to start learning to care for herself.

  “Yes, our supply of oats won’t last forever, so I need to catch one of the wild sheep which wander these hills and dry its meat. If I don’t, all there will be to eat are olives, and you know what happens to you if you eat too many of those.”

  Yes, she knew all right. Like every small child she’d sneaked into the olive groves and had helped herself to the fruit and had ended up being ill for several days. “Couldn’t you kill one of the goats instead?”

  “No,” he lied. “Goat meat is tough when it dries.” He stood and slid his knife back into its sheath. “You’ll be safe enough here whilst I’m gone if you stick to the things you’ve always done and don’t wander away. I’ll put the pot of oats by the cave mouth, so you can eat when you want and won’t have to go anywhere near the fire.”

  He picked up the pot of oats and she felt him walk past her, but after he’d put the pot down he carried on walking and she listened as his footsteps faded into the distance. She guessed that he’d taken the path upwards because she heard stones rolling beneath his feet, and the path which led down to where the cart was kept was smoother and sounded different when he walked on it. For a long time she stood there listening for anything else which sounded different, but apart from the bleating of the goats, which was getting louder as they made their way down the hillside towards her, nothing had changed.

  With a sigh of resignation she moved back to the right hand side of the cave and began her daily routine of washing, filling the water skins and milking the goats. She did that slowly, preferring to have the goats for company rather than be on her own, but the old nanny became impatient and started butting her in the side, making her rush the last two. Once she’d finished, the herd moved away and followed their leader up the hillside to forage for food.

  That left her with the frustrating job of trying to pour the fresh milk into the crocks and then skimming the whey from the cheese which was slowly maturing. It was a messy job, and by the time she’d finished she had it all over her hands and down the front of her robe. Irritably she made her way to the spring to wash it off and then came to the conclusion that as Pellecus was away, this would be a good time to take her robe off and wash it.

  That turned out to be easier than she’d anticipated, so by the time the sun was directly overhead, the robe was drying in the sun and she was sitting on the boulder where she usually sat, eating the oats that Pellecus had left for her. As Pellecus wasn’t there to forbid it and as a special treat, she’d dotted the oats with bits of goat’s cheese. Unfortunately it wasn’t quite ready to eat and tasted a bit rancid, but it was better than eating the tasteless oats by themselves.

  When she’d finished her meal and washed the cooking pot and milking pail, she sat on her boulder again and listened to the sounds around her. Apart from the spring bubbling to her right and the call of a bird high above her, everything was quiet. In fact it was so quiet she felt as if she was the only person alive in the world.

  That thought disturbed her. She’d always been used to having people bustling and making a noise around her. At home there had been her brothers and the household servants, and at the Great Temple there had been so many people that she had sometimes wished they would all go away and leave her alone.

  She’d lost track of the number of times she’d wished she could just sit and daydream and not be at the beck and call of anyone who was older than her. Now she had her wish to be alone with nothing to do, she found it wasn’t as much fun as she thought it was going to be. In fact it was downright boring. She needed to do something exciting, which was going to be almost impossible to find sitting on a boulder on the side of a deserted hill in total darkness.

  Then it came to her. To do something which was forbidden was always exciting, and the only thing which had been forbidden to her since she had been here was to walk down the pathway to where the cart stood and where Pellecus slept at night. If she was careful and didn’t disturb anything, she might also find out more about the man who cared for her without him being aware of it.

  Excited by the prospect of finding out who Pellecus was, she hurried over to where her robe was drying in the sun and pulled it over her head. The thing was still damp, and washing it had made it even more scratchy, but at least it didn’t smell of sweat and sour milk. Remembering how important it was to do things in a set order, she walked back to the cave mouth and then made a circuit of the small world she knew until she reached the pathway she sought.

  For a moment she hesitated,
unsure if she wanted to step out into the unknown, and then took a deep breath and moved forward. When she’d first become blind and had taken her first steps, she’d edged forward with her foot sideways and her hands out in front of her, but Pellecus had insisted that she walked normally with her hands slightly away from her body. It was all right for him to insist, he could see where he was going, but for all of that she tried to do as he said, putting one foot slowly in front of the other and holding her hands only slightly further away from her body than normal.

  She tried to keep to the centre of the path where it was smooth, but twice she found the rough edge where the loose stones made her stumble. At first she thought it was because she wasn’t walking straight, and then it occurred to her that the path might have turns, which made her feel slightly better. When the pathway came to an abrupt end and the gnarled trunk of an olive tree rasped against her finger tips, she was unsure what to do next.

  Before she’d set out she had been so certain that the cart would be here, but instead the pathway led to just another olive grove. Then she berated herself for her stupidity. Of course the cart was there because she could smell it. The planks which made up the cart’s side smelled of resin, and the metal rimmed wheels gave off a sharp tang in the heat.

  Ignoring Pellecus’s insistence that she walked straight, she edged her way sideways until her outstretched fingers found the side of the cart. She didn’t know how big it was except it had to be large enough for her to lie in, so she walked around the outside keeping her fingers touching the wood and counting her steps. As she walked she noted where the back was and when she’d finished her circuit she returned there.

  The rear of the cart was open, and being both tall and agile she had no difficulty climbing inside. As far as she could tell nothing much had changed since she had last been in there, except the place now smelled of Pellecus instead of fever and vomit. She felt around until she found the pallet on which she’d laid and the small stool on which Pellecus had sat whilst he tended to her.

  They were both in the same place they had been before, so she guessed that the far corner, where all the stores had been stacked, would now be empty. She moved there just to check and was surprised to find a chest there, and guessed that it must have been buried beneath the sacks of oats. It was a wooden chest bound in metal with well worn leather hinges, but no lock that she could feel.

  Curiously she lifted the lid and felt inside. At first she thought it was full of cooking pots and wondered if Pellecus was some sort of merchant, but when she lifted the first item out she realised her mistake. It couldn’t be a pot, as one side was open and anything which was put inside would just fall out. What’s more there was a tail dangling beneath it which felt like it came from a horse.

  She couldn’t think of any practical use for the strange item, so with an irritable sigh she put it on the floor beside her and took out the next item. This felt like one of the large platters her mother used to serve slices of meat when there were guests, but it would be useless for that purpose. There were leather pieces inside the dish where the meat should go, and the other side was slightly curved with an embossed centre, so even if it was a platter it wouldn’t lie flat on a table.

  Still puzzled she pulled out another item and knew immediately what that was from its size and shape and smell. Then it all came together, although she couldn’t imagine why someone like Pellecus would be caring for a blind girl in the middle of nowhere. Carefully she replaced the items, without bothering to find out if there were greaves, a leather skirt and a long, scarlet cloak in the chest as well. Deep in thought she closed the lid and made her way back out of the cart.

  Finding her way back to the cave was more difficult than she thought it would be, and if it hadn’t been for the bleating of goats and the clang of the nanny’s bell, she would have missed her way and become completely lost. As it was, the herd of goats trotted past her and were waiting for her when she arrived back at the cave. The evening milking never took very long, but even so she’d only just finished when she caught the first sounds of whistling in the distance.

  She waited anxiously as the whistler approached, and was relieved when Pellecus called her name from somewhere on the hillside above her. For a moment she wondered why she hadn’t recognised his footfall which was so familiar to her. It wasn’t until he entered the clearing breathing heavily that she realised it was because he was carrying something heavy.

  “Your hunt has been successful then?” she asked with a smile.

  For a moment her comment took him by surprise as he thought that she could see him, but he knew that was impossible. Her eyes were milky white and she would never see again, or at least not as other people did.

  “Yes, I was successful, but it was a wild goat instead of a sheep.” He heaved the carcass off his shoulders, dropping it to the ground, and then realised what he’d said, so he hurried on before she remembered their morning’s conversation. “I’ve brought this for you?”

  He picked up the long pole he’d dropped, held it out to her and wrapped her hand around the shaft. “It will help you get around without falling over things.”

  She ran her hand down the length of wood which was smooth and silky and slightly oily. “Thank you, is it a spear shaft?”

  Pellecus gave an insincere laugh. “Of course not, it is just a piece of wood I picked up and stripped of its bark.”

  She didn’t believe a word he said, but was happy to let it drop for now. “What will you do with the dead goat?”

  “I’ll skin it and slice the meat for smoking and then bury the rest, but I will have to do it away from here so it doesn’t attract wild dogs and wolves.”

  “Can I come with you?” she asked, already knowing what the answer was likely to be.

  Pellecus thought about it for a moment. The girl would slow him down and wouldn’t be much use with the butchering, but she needed to get used to moving away from the cave and this was as good a reason as any for her to do so without him having to make something up.

  “You can come if you want, but you’ll need to fetch a water skin and your blanket as we will be away over night.”

  Amalaya smiled at that. Two adventures in one day were more than she’d hoped for. Leaving the pole against the cave wall she quickly fetched her blanket and topped up a water skin, whilst Pellecus fetched his skinning knife and tinder and tied the goat’s legs together. By the time she returned he was ready to leave and showed her how to rest the pole, which he had passed through the goat’s legs, on her shoulder so they could carry it between them.

  The dead animal was heavy and it would have been awkward if she hadn’t been nearly as tall as Pellecus. As it was she quickly became used to the weight, and felt strangely confident having Pellecus lead her over strange ground. They walked far enough for her back to ache and her shoulder to rub painfully against the pole before Pellecus stopped and took the burden from her.

  She was grateful to be free of the weight, but the moment Pellecus moved away from her she began to panic. Everything around her was strange, and even though she could hear Pellecus humming to himself, she felt alone and very afraid. She whispered his name under her breath and whether he heard her or not he was instantly at her side. Carefully he guided her across to an olive tree so she could lean against its solid trunk and put the long pole into her shaking hands.

  “When you are feeling stronger, use the pole to find your way forwards, but don’t go too far.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not because at that moment she couldn’t have taken even one step let alone gone any distance. The solidness of the tree was a comfort though, as was the feel of the pole in her hands. On top of that, she could hear Pellecus move about as he gathered wood for the fire and set up their small camp. She hated being helpless and if only she could help instead of standing there uselessly, then Pellecus would appreciate her instead of her being a burden to him.

  It suddenly occurred to her that she wanted him to li
ke her and be proud of her, and that gave her enough determination to step away from the tree. By the time the smell of roasting meat had replaced the stink of blood and offal, she knew the area around their camp as well as that in front of her cave. The pole helped no end, and whilst she’d tripped over it several times, she had now worked out how to move it around in front of her to detect obstacles before she fell over them.

  When Pellecus called to her, she was able to walk to where he stood close to the fire without hesitating. She thought he smiled at her but couldn’t be sure. He helped her to a fallen log which he’d pulled close to the fire, and then placed a piece of roasted meat in her hand. It was hot and scorched her fingers, so she had to swap it from hand to hand until it cooled slightly.

  The meat, when she managed to bite into it, was the most wonderful thing she’d ever tasted. She’d eaten meat at the Great Temple, but that had always been in a stew, and there had been meat at home, although that was thinly sliced and served with a thick sauce. Neither of them had been like this, which was crisp on the outside and rich and juicy beneath the skin. She ate it all, letting the juices run down her fingers and then licking them clean.

  When she’d finished Pellecus, held out the water skin for her to wash the last of the grease away and then sat down beside her. Amalaya could feel his presence and wished that he would put his arm around her or at least say something, but instead he sat in silence just as he always did. She wondered if he was as sad and as lonely as she was, and if that had anything to do with the things she’d found in the wagon.

  “You’re a good cook, Pellecus. Where did you learn such skills?”