“Yeah,” another voice added, “Or you’ll become our business! Ain’t that right, Captain?”
*** *** ***
Outside, Crimzon was circling above the attackers, taking in the scene below him. Twenty men he counted, plus some who had already gone inside his mother’s resting place. They were trying to do harm to his human friend, and he didn’t know what he should do. He knew he was wounded, but he didn’t care about that. He wanted to help Clover, but was too afraid. He rose even higher, then cleared the ridge and swooped down into the valley adjacent to the one where the men were. There he found a small cavern opening. He landed near its mouth and squeezed and wiggled his way inside, snapping off several of the arrows sticking out of him as he went.
*** *** ***
Clover was feeling as unlucky as could be. In the dark cavern where Crimzon’s mother lay rotting, she hid on an elevated shelf that she found. From there she was trying to assess the situation. Her eyes adjusted to the blackness quickly, and she could make out at least ten heavily armored swordsmen. Every one of them was coughing and gagging. A couple of archers and what Clover figured to be a mage were moving into the cavern as well. Any sound or motion she made would give her position away. The mage chanted something that Clover inexplicably knew to be a light spell, then suddenly a glowing sphere of pastel color appeared, hovering above the man’s upturned palm. The inside of the cavern was thrust into its eerie, blue glow.
Clover shrank back into the shadows as two of the swordsmen began to vomit from the sight of the huge, decomposing dragon. The mage began to chant another spell that somehow cleared the putrid stench form the place and replaced it with clean, fresh air.
Clover felt the dragon’s tear pulsing in her hand, but she wasn’t sure how to unleash its power. The spells were in her head, but not the knowledge of how to cast them, or the ill effects of their castings. She wondered what happened to Crimzon. Did the young dragon get scared and run away, or was he wounded and dying? The thought that he was outside, fighting for his life irked her. Clover decided if he had flown away scared, she couldn’t blame him. After all, Crimzon wasn’t even a yearling, and after watching humans such as these kill his mother, it was understandable for him to be afraid. Still, Clover hoped that Crimzon was alright, and she wished her scaly friend was there to help her fight off these greedy treasure seekers.
“Come on now, wench,” the hard-voiced leader of the group yelled out into the open air of the place. His voice reverberated heavily off the stone. “We won’t harm you if you just come out.”
Captain Harner was the self-proclaimed leader of this fairly well-organized band of glory seekers. He was an efficient predator in his own right. Whether it was other men, mountain creatures, or seemingly evil dragons that he faced, he showed no fear and maintained order among his men. Most importantly, he always got them paid for their work. He had no qualms poaching exotic game or selling little girls to the bathhouses. He picked his conquests clean, squeezing every last copper from them. He just wanted Clover to show herself so one of his archers could pierce her heart. He had high hopes of finding coins and jewels in the dragon’s horde, but he could already tell this wasn’t a lair.
He accepted the fact that this wasn’t where the dragon kept its treasure, but he still had to pay his men. Picking a single wench clean didn’t seem like much, but it beat a total loss. He had seen some dragon piles in a valley a few ridges back. He was hoping it meant the lair was close by. The foolish woman hiding in here might know where it is. If not, her supplies might provide enough loot to fund a few more days up here in the mountains to search it out.
“Come on out, woman!” The Captain ordered again. “Stop wasting my time!”
It was the mage who found Clover first. He cast a spell that sensed the presence of magic other than his own. When he sensed the dragon’s tear in Clover’s hand, he began to panic, for it radiated more power than he could imagine. This caused him to hold his tongue and stare openly at Clover instead of calling out an alarm.
Clover knew she’d been seen. It was just a matter of time now before the mage blasted her with lightning, put her to sleep, or cast some other type of spell to incapacitate her. Either way, she was spotted, so she decided to gamble.
“Don’t kill me, and I’ll show you to the lair,” Clover yelled as she stood up and showed herself. “I know where it is,” she added convincingly, “I swear it!”
“Don’t shoot!” Captain Harner yelled instantly. “Hold your arrows!”
The Captain ordered his archers to keep their shafts trained on Clover while his swordsmen made a half circle around the elevated shelf his victim was on. “You lie, you die, fool!” The Captain said through gritted teeth as he approached. He didn’t notice the look of apprehension on his mage’s face. If he had sensed the amount of awe and fear the mage was feeling, he might have kept a little distance. As it was, he approached the chin-high scallop in the cavern wall swiftly and authoritatively.
“Tell me,” said the Captain, whose voice was now hard but reasonable, almost reassuring. “Where is this lair?”
“I’ll not say,” Clover returned sharply, “but I’ll show you for an equal share.”
“An equal share she wants!” The Captain mocked, bringing a few grunts of laughter from his men. Suddenly he threw a dagger so quickly that Clover only felt it as its keen edge nicked open her ear lobe. “You’ll show me, or you’ll die a slow, miserable death, wench! These men won’t be kind to your body, I assure you,” the Captain growled. “Get the chains!” He ordered, then pointed at Clover. “Come down from there now, or my archers will take out your legs.”
Clover tried to relax. She hoped Crimzon had gotten far away from here. She was sure the young dragon would be hunted down and killed for his hide as soon as this crazy mercenary learned she had no idea where the lair was. Clover tucked the dragon’s tear discreetly into her belt pouch while turning to climb down from the shelf. Luckily no one noticed this. The warriors wasted no time crowding her in and grabbing her wrists as she stepped down. She was overcome by a wave of defeat. A sharp punch in her gut sent her air, and most of what little hope of survival she had been holding back, whooshing out of her. She fell, crumpled between the two huge men who effortlessly held her from completely collapsing. Out of a breathless mouth she silently called for Crimzon to come save her. It seemed to her that the incredible run of good fortune she was on had finally petered out.
*** *** ***
Crimzon was only moments away from his friend when her weak voice spoke magically into his mind. Little did Clover know, but all spring Crimzon had been going out another tunnel that led from the cavern out into the adjacent valley. He had been hunting and killing his own prey and exercising his wings for flight. He even scared a herd of fleet deer over the ridge when game ran scarce for Clover. Clover often wondered how the dragon had grown so large so quickly on such a meager diet. If she had known about the other tunnel, she would have had her answer. Crimzon made it into a game. He watched Clover hunt and place her kills for him many times. He often wondered why a human would do such a thing for his kind. Crimzon eventually concluded that not all humans could be like the ones who killed his mother. After months of Clover’s persistent, though unnecessary aid, Crimzon came to like his human benefactor. He wanted nothing more now than to help her. After he squirmed his long, scaly body through the last tight corner of the other cavern way, he drew in a long, deep breath. It wasn’t only air he was pulling into his vast lungs, but courage as well. He would be there for Clover; he only hoped he could get there in time.
*** *** ***
“Lift her up,” Captain Harner barked. “Raise up her head!”
A heavy fist grabbed a handful of her strawberry hair and pointed Clover’s face directly at the rugged Captain. Their eyes locked, and Clover’s hope for bluffing dissipated like a puff of pipe smoke in a gale. The Captain’s eyes were nearly empty. Only a glint of hatred and a sparkle of greed shone in those icy orbs.
Clover was about to die, and she knew it. The feeling was confirmed when the Captain’s sword point deftly found her throat.
“I’ll ask you only once,” the Captain hissed with narrow, angry brows. “Tell me the location of the dragon’s lair, or swallow my steel!”
Clover gulped. She felt a trickle of blood drip down her neck. It was a warm sensation that chilled her with terror. Her eyes darted from angry face to leering, angry face. In those gazes she found nothing but an eagerness to see her blood. She was about to blurt out a lie when two things stopped her. One was the Captain’s blade point pushing firmly into her neck; the other was a shift in the shadows beyond the Captain.
“She doesn’t know, Captain,” a voice spat excitedly. “Kill her! Or better yet, let me have her!”
“Aye, Captain, those boots we found in her camp would look good on my wife,” said another.
Like a snake sliding through tall grass a thin, raspy voice cut through the grunts of approval for Clover’s execution. “There’s a way to find out for sure,” said the mage.
“I see you still have your wits about you, magic man,” the Captain said coolly. “Tell us if she knows or if she’ll die here by my blade.”
The mage began chanting rhythmically, waving his arms around. This went on for a few minutes. Then he paused as still as stone, made a choking grunt, and fell over. Everyone present, even the Captain and Clover, stared at the mage’s lifeless body as if they expected him to jump back up any minute. The mage’s sphere of glowing blue light began to slowly fizzle out, causing a sense of panic to sweep over the hardened men. Clover felt the grips on her wrists tighten considerably.
“What is it, Captain?” A shaky voice called out.
“Yeah, what killed the spell caster?” Asked another.
“Shhh!” The captain hissed. “Find a torch before we run completely out of light.”
The Captain turned and pointed toward something with his sword, allowing Clover to breathe again. Clover squeezed her eyes shut and fearfully began a silent prayer to the Green Mother. It was a typical stroke of luck that her eyes closed when they did, for a brilliant, white-hot shower of blazing dragon’s breath came down over the unsuspecting Captain, cooking his vitals to char in less than a heartbeat. The intense heat and brightness of it told Clover to keep her eyes closed. She could smell her own hair burning and wasn’t sure if she would be burned as well, but a reassuring voice in her head told her not to worry, to stay still and be ready to escape the cavern.
Crimzon came back to help her, after all. When the bright heat finally disappeared, Clover felt one hand let go of her. She spun, twisted, and brought her knee up into her other captor’s groin. Then she swung an overhand right into the warrior’s helmet. She felt her hand bones shatter from the impact, but she also felt the man’s gripping hand fall away.
The eyes of most of the mercenaries were flash blinded by the dragon’s breath. To them the cavern was nothing but bright, splotchy blackness. Since Clover kept her eyes closed, her sight was not as bad. With a little concentration, she was able to make out her surroundings in the dark.
As Crimzon’s bone-chilling battle roar echoed through the cavern, Clover looked around and saw the way she had to go to get out. She bolted up the shaft she had come down. An instant later, shouts, screams, and more blinding blasts of fire filled the chamber behind her.
All of the young dragon’s pent-up rage and his hatred for the men who killed his family came out as he unleashed his fury upon the men. With the mage dead, he didn’t have to fear a magical attack, so he let his battle lust take over his senses. With his breath he blasted man after man, and with the crushing force of his long tail, whipped another against the wall. With a swipe of his claw he raked a trio of deep furrows across a man, then snapped his toothy maw shut on another. A sword bit into his scales and opened his flesh, but he gouged the swordsman with one of the spikes on his head and mashed his bones against the cavern wall.
Clover chanced to look back to see how Crimzon was faring. By the sounds of it all, the men didn’t have a chance. By the look of it, Crimzon already wounded or killed most of them. A few men were fleeing up the tunnel toward Clover. She took this as a sign to move faster, and move she did. It was only about three hundred more paces through open tunnel to get out of the cavern into the valley, but to Clover’s frustration, the way was blocked by two more men; men who hadn’t yet seen the dragon, and were watching Clover approach through confused and excited eyes.
The men before her heard the dragon as well as the clash of steel on scale and stone. Instinctively they wanted to run, but to disobey the captain was death, so they held their ground. When they saw Clover wasn’t one of them, they quickly moved to block her way.
Clover reached for her sword but found only the lump of the dragon’s tear in her belt pouch. She didn’t know why, but she fumbled for it as she charged on. When her fingers finally wrapped around it, the rush of power that filled her nearly dropped her in her tracks. Of its own accord, her broken hand shot forth and a jagged string-thin bolt of sizzling yellow shot from her fingertip into the chest of one of the men blocking her way. The man convulsed and fell trembling to the side, and before this even registered in Clover’s mind, the other man was in even worse condition. She didn’t even have to slow her pace. She hurdled their bodies in stride and kept running toward the moonlight. When she burst out into the valley bottom, she found another group of men, mostly archers, waiting there. They were as startled as she was. She would have been riddled with arrows had her luck not held true. One of the archers had snuck along a few skins of brandy and the men were half drunk and un-alert when Clover charged through their camp.
When their comrades came out of the cavern, they went scrambling clumsily for their bows. Several of the men emerging from the cave were torn and bleeding. One was smoldering and missing an arm. Red embers flared on the end of his stumped elbow as he stumbled headlong from the cavern and sprawled onto the ground.
“The Captain’s dead!” A terrified voice called out.
“The dragon’s coming behind us!” Another yelled. “Archers, be ready!”
Had it been the Captain’s voice, they would all have continued scrambling for their bows. Instead they stood there, slack-jawed and shocked as Crimzon came loping out of the cavern. A screeching blast of fire finished off the armless man as well as the man trying to help him. From another direction, a crackling strand of yellow erupted from Clover’s finger tip and electrified another man where he stood.
A few of the mercenaries managed to get to their weapons and fire arrows back at Crimzon and Clover. But after Crimzon snatched up a man with his toothy maw and violently shook him in half, the others turned and fled, leaving everything behind save for themselves.
Only a single man of the Captain’s party remained. He was still down in the cavern. He had hidden in the rocks when the dragon showed up. He found the tiny, crystal-blue dragon’s tear Crimzon cried so many months ago. Mistaking it for a jewel, he pocketed it. The rush of power he felt was nowhere near as powerful or intense as Clover’s had been, but the man felt it just the same and knew his destiny lay elsewhere. He stole the coin purses off several of his fallen comrades, then quietly slinked away into the tunnel from where Crimzon emerged to surprise them.
In the valley, after all the surviving men fled, Crimzon lifted his head proudly and let out a trumpeting roar of dominance that curdled even Clover’s blood. When he was done, the dragon bowed before Clover and lowered his wing to allow her to mount his back.
“Comes Clovers, let’s hunts them down!” Crimzon hissed vengefully.
“Do you think it’s necessary?” Clover asked, feeling the throb of pain in her hand starting to lessen.
“They will tellss taless and brings back otherss if we do not!” Crimzon rationalized.
“Yes,” Clover reluctantly agreed, “but this place can’t be your … our home forever. There’s a whole world beyond these mountains.”
&nbs
p; “Yessss, Clover,” Crimzon growled. “but climb upon me ands we wills chase them as they go. Theys deserves no easy escapess.”
Clover climbed on and had just gotten situated when Crimzon jumped into the air in a single leaping stride. On powerful surging wing strokes the young red dragon, and a very lucky woman, chased away the bad men. After that was done, they decided to explore beyond the mountains.
Crimzon and Clover would have many more adventures. Some you might hear about in a tavern or in a bard’s tale like this one. After all, the world is but a playground for a girl with a dragon.
The End (for now)
And here is even more free content:
Crimzon & Clover II
The Tricky Wizard
©2011 by Michael Robb Mathias Jr.
A slight chill passed through the Merry Motley when the man entered. It wasn’t much; a hesitation that affected the whole of the semi-crowded tavern house for half a heartbeat, but it was noticeable. Clover sensed it plainly, but she didn’t look up from the goblet she was sipping. She knew the mage was looking for her. A boy had come to the saddler’s earlier and told her as much.
“Are you the lucky girl?” the man asked from beneath the hood of his dark cloak. He was tall, and when the nearest lantern flame flickered, Clover saw he had only a day’s worth of growth on his middle-aged face. “Are you the one who rides the red dragon?”
“And if I am?” Clover asked, looking up with curious brows. Her strawberry hair was pulled tight against her head, held in place by a plain silver wire band wrapped around her ponytail. Her eyes were dark as well. Dark green, like swamp moss.
She was wearing loose fitting britches and a doe skinned vest over her work shirt. Even sitting down, the modest attire couldn’t quite conceal the curves of her well formed body. She was tired and sweaty from laboring on the dragon saddle she and the leather-man devised. She was in no mood for nonsense, but she was curious enough to offer the mage a seat. He pulled out the offered chair, but continued to stand.
Blood and Royalty Page 13
