The Child Prince (The Artifactor)

by Honor Raconteur

  No, he shouldn’t be distracted by that. He should be looking for the dragon’s approach. He stopped pacing and turned his eyes back toward the southeastern sky.

  “Here he comes.” Bellomi stood to face the dragon, even though he still had some distance to go. Right now, the dragon looked like a bird shaped speck on the horizon.

  “Finally,” Sevana muttered, also standing.

  Bellomi cast her a glance. Her expression looked strained, understandably so after holding the incantation in place for nearly five hours. Sarsen had told him, quietly, that doing this would be very challenging. Magic casted was easily done. Magic held in stasis, steadily, right on the verge of casting was another matter entirely. Sarsen hadn’t been sure if Sevana could carry the incantation for more than half a day. Bellomi felt just as glad that they didn’t have to test that theory.

  The dragon came in at a quick pace, perhaps a tad faster than prudent. It made Bellomi nervous. Big didn’t exactly have the largest of clearings up here on top, and while a dragon had plenty of room to land in, that didn’t mean it had enough space to skid into a landing. He backed up three good paces, getting closer to the door that led topside, ready to dive inside if he needed to. The water dragon didn’t slow much as he came in, and the sound of the wind streaming past his wings and body sounded almost eerie in pitch. Then he flapped backwards, hard, in quick succession so that his pace abruptly slowed as he almost hovered right above the ground. He touched down to earth with back legs first, almost gracefully, wings fully extended and above him before he deigned to fold them back in against his body.

  Bellomi let out a breath he didn’t know he held. Whew. The dragon didn’t try to speak, but his mouth still held the seawater he’d promised to bring with him, so Bellomi didn’t try to ask any questions. He simply stepped forward, following Sevana’s silent cues in where she wanted him to stand.

  Sevana pointed with her free hand to the wooden crate sitting nearby. “Your payment is there in full. Do you wish to check it now?”

  The dragon gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. No. But he probably didn’t need to. Dragons had a very keen sense of smell, according to the books, and they could detect gold miles away.

  “Very well. I will raise the incantation to be above Bel’s head. When I give you the signal, spray the water directly into the center of the circle, if you would.” Sevana’s tone had a brisk, no-nonsense tone to it even though she phrased it politely.

  The dragon arranged himself ever so slightly, turning his head to where he could easily spray the top of Bellomi’s head, showing his readiness. Sevana lifted the glowing circle to where it rested directly above Bellomi’s head, wreathing it in glowing lines of power. When she had it perfectly centered, she gave him a look that said, Brace yourself.

  Bellomi nodded back, feeling beyond nervous. Aside from the fact that his curse would finally be broken after ten long, arduous years, he was about to be under the direct water stream of a dragon. How much force would be heading at him, that he would have to stand underneath, he didn’t even want to know. But he had to endure it, and he could not falter, or all of this would be for nothing. So he spread his feet to shoulder width and planted them firmly, bracing himself as well as he could.

  Sevana took in a breath, let it out, then looked up at the dragon. “Ready? Begin.”

  The dragon didn’t open its jaws, as Bellomi half-feared, but instead formed its mouth into an oval shape. Within a split second, water started gushing out of his mouth at high speed, hitting Bellomi squarely on the head. He gasped in shock, partially from the brutal force of it. It stung where it hit, like a thousand needles that grazed his skin. Gritting his teeth, he set himself to endure it. As he did, other sensations flooded in: the strong smell of seawater and salt, the feel of dissipating warmth from the water, the way it fell hard against the ground around him and flowed along his skin.

  It felt like an eternity. It felt like mere seconds. Bellomi closed his eyes to avoid the stinging quality of the water, legs shaking under the force that pounded against him, hands clenched in determination. I. will. Not. FALL.

  Under the water rushing past his ears and the clatter as it hit the ground, another sound emerged. It sounded oddly like glass cracking under tremendous force. He wanted to open his eyes, but didn’t dare for fear of being blinded by salt water. But his ears tracked the sound. It came harder now, with more speed, and then it sounded as if something shattered in a hundred different directions.

  Sevana gave a victorious laugh. “It’s broken!”

  It worked. It worked?!

  “Very good, my lord dragon,” she called up. “You can stop now!”

  The dragon raised his head, but didn’t stop spewing water. Apparently he had taken more than enough for this. He spewed the rest of it out to the side as Bellomi used both hands to wipe the water from his face so he could look up. Even as he did the automatic gesture, a part of him reeled. After ten years, ten very long years, he was finally free. The reality of it failed to sink in. He looked at Sevana, eyes searching hers for a confirmation of her own words.

  She grinned at him, eyes alight, looking more satisfied and happier than he’d ever seen her. “It’s broken,” she repeated with imminent satisfaction. “You’re free, Bel. Well, not quite. We’ll need to go back down and have Pierpoint remove that stasis spell before you’re fully free.”

  Bellomi did something he never thought he would do. He reached out and grabbed her in a fierce embrace, lifting her off her feet, head buried in her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice husky. “Thank you.”

  She reached up with one arm and ruffled his hair. “Put me down, you brat. I can’t breathe.”

  He laughed because he knew from her tone she didn’t mean a word of what she just said. But Sevana simply couldn’t say anything sentimental without tripping over her own tongue. So he let her off the hook and set her back on his feet, smiling all the while from ear to ear. When he did step away, she flatly refused to look at him, and her cheeks looked suspiciously pink.

  It took a second to gather himself and remember the other part that he had planned out. Taking a deep breath to smother his emotions, he faced the dragon that patiently stood nearby and gave him a deep bow. “You have done all that I asked and done so well,” Bellomi said formally. “I wish to give you a token of my thanks.” He pulled out the large package he’d stowed away in his pocket, flipping back the flaps of the cloth he’d wrapped it in. With it uncovered, he lifted it up with both hands at a good angle for the dragon to see it.

  The water dragon leaned his head in closer, tilting it so that he could see clearly with one eye. “THIS IS EXQUISITE.”

  “It’s an earring.” Bellomi juggled it slightly so that he could point out the different clamps. “This part clamps to the lower part of your ear, and this clamp goes up higher so the chain can dangle. It’s made for a dragon’s ear.”

  The water dragon leaned in closer, nostrils flaring, tail twitching. The expression reminded Bellomi eerily of Baby when he saw something he just had to have. “I can put it on for you, if you wish?” he offered a little tentatively.

  He barely had the sentence out before the dragon’s head was flat on the ground, head tilted so Bellomi could reach. Right. That was obviously a yes. Biting his lip to keep from laughing (dragons had strong pride, after all) he reached up and clamped the earring onto the lower lobe of the dragon’s ear. It felt surprisingly supple, although still hard enough to give hardened wood stiff competition. With care, he reached up higher, following the sloping tip of the ear, and clamped it on so that the delicate gold chain had just enough room to jingle but not enough play to get caught on something.

  Sevana spun her wand into the air, whispering a spell, causing the air to shimmer and harden into a round, reflective surface. “Care to see how it looks?”

  The dragon turned his head just enough to catch sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes half-closed in pleasure at the sight, and this time th
e tail thumped in a noticeable rhythm. “YESSS.”

  Bellomi watched this reaction with bemusement and no little amusement. Didn’t it occur to the dragons to actually wear the gold they hoarded?

  Gathering up his dignity, the dragon sat back up, although one eye kept straying to the mirror from time to time. “YOU ARE GENEROUS, HUMAN.”

  “You have done me a great service,” Bellomi returned with spread hands, almost in a bow. “I wanted to show my appreciation.”

  The dragon let out a low hum that vibrated the very ground they stood on. “HUMAN. WHAT ARE YOU CALLED?”

  Sevana hissed in a shocked breath. Bellomi nearly swallowed his own tongue. Dragon’s didn’t care about human names. They very, very rarely asked for them. To be asked such a question was an honor in and of itself. “I am Bellomi Christoff Vogel braun Dragonmanovich, Prince and future King of Windamere.”

  “I AM BRAMITHE.” The dragon dipped his head a fraction in greeting. “IF EVER YOU HAVE NEED OF A DRAGON’S POWER OR STRENGTH, YOU MAY CALL ON ME. I WILL DEAL WITH YOU.”

  “You honor me, Bramithe.” Bellomi somehow managed to say levelly, as if his heart hadn’t just leaped out of his chest. “I will remember your offer.”

  Satisfied, the dragon took one last, lingering look in the mirror before spreading his wings again. He lifted up his crate of gold with one hind leg, easily, as if it didn’t weigh a ton. Then with a last nod to his new human friend, he took to the sky with a powerful up thrust.

  Bellomi felt battered by the strong beat of the wings, but he had so much practice now in keeping his feet, that he didn’t falter. He did, however, feel mentally floored. When Bramithe was out of sight, he turned to Sevana and said faintly, “When was the last time a dragon gave such an offer to a human?”

  “When Aerts de Vos, the great magician of the last era, returned a lost dragon egg to its mother,” she rattled off the answer promptly but her eyes were just as wide as his. “Bel, just where did you get that earring?”

  “Sarsen made it for me. He suggested making it, actually. He said making a reputation among dragons about being generous would be wise.” Bellomi thanked the gods that he followed that advice. He almost hadn’t.

  “Sarsen, eh? I’m not as surprised now. The man’s always thinking up things like this.” Shaking her head, she cancelled the mirror spell, letting it fade and disappear. “I need to sit down.”

  His knees felt weak enough to send him straight to the ground. “I’m with you,” Bellomi said fervently.

  They had quite the celebration that night, everyone pitching in and taking good food to the table, with Sarsen surprising everyone and bringing out a guitar that he played. Aren had his son tell everyone each time he had a dragon’s encounter, with every detail included, and no one seemed bored at the recounting.

  Sevana had never been one for parties, but if someone applied a judicious amount of lye and thumb screws, she would have grudgingly admitted she enjoyed this one. She sat in a corner of the main room, legs tucked up underneath her, mug of mulled cider in hand, and watched everyone else. After months (in some cases, years) of strain, this evening represented an end and a new beginning, and the festive mood reflected that.

  Bel especially seemed to be almost beside himself with happiness. His bright smile glowed as he went from person to person, talking, laughing, and offering food. With Hana, he picked her up and swung her about several times, laughing as she protested.

  Sarsen finally took a break from playing and sat down in a nearby chair with a thump and squeak of chair’s springs. From the side of his mouth, he muttered, “You’re smiling, Sev.”

  She promptly put her mug to her mouth, letting the warm rush of spices wipe away any trace of a smile. “Am not.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” he assured her, dark eyes twinkling. “No sin in admitting that you’re happy for the boy, or that you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Snorting at his sentimental words, she retorted, “Next you’re going to claim I’m fond of him.”

  “You most certainly are.” He patted her arm, grin turning wicked. “But it’s alright, I know that you’d bite your own tongue trying to say that. You don’t need to hurt yourself.”

  Gormless berk. “You do remember that he is, in fact, three years my senior?”

  Sarsen blinked at her, then turned and studied Bel for a long moment. “I actually had forgotten that. He looks to be of an age with you.”

  Bel hadn’t touched the grow-for-true-love bed in weeks. Sevana suspected that he wouldn’t ever climb into that bed again. He wanted to grow old at the same rate as Hana, after all, and few men had a choice on whether they could do that or not.

  “You’ll likely miss him when he’s gone back to the palace,” Sarsen continued, sounding sincerely sympathetic this time.

  That knowing tone if his irked her and she shot him a challenging look as she drawled, “Miss him? Miss being woken up at bird’s hours because he’s gotten into mischief? Miss having to rescue him from tangling with dragons? Miss patching him up when he’s done something stupid, competing with Baby? Miss having to cook and clean up after him? Pah!”

  Sarsen’s sympathetic smile deepened. “Yes, you’ll miss the boy. After all, the more you complain about a man, the more you like ‘em.”

  Of all the ridiculous notions. She snorted and drank more of her cider. “You’re one to talk. What made you think of that earring?”

  “Master’s idea,” Sarsen admitted with a shrug. “Some great magician in the past did something similar and made friends with a dragon. Or so he said.”

  Sevana raised her eyes to the heaven in a bid for patience. She knew better than to ask which dragon or magician. Sarsen had never had any patience with history and didn’t retain more than the basics for more than five minutes. Master had been at his wit’s end trying to cram enough information into Sarsen’s head for him to be a full-fledged Artifactor. He’d almost flunked the history part of his exam for his Artifactor license because of that. She’d have to go look it up herself if she wanted to know. “It was a good idea. The dragon, Bramithe, loved it.”

  “So Bel told me.” Sarsen gave a smug smile, as well he should.

  A loud popping sound from the other side of the room caught their attention. Pierpoint was in the middle of it, excitedly explaining some sort of game that he had set up on a table in front of him. Everyone but she and Sarsen were hovering around him, all listening attentively and asking questions.

  Jerking her chin to indicate the group, she asked in bewilderment, “Where are all of these games coming from?”

  “Bel,” Sarsen answered promptly. “He’s fascinated with them. Makes sense—growing up, no one was around to play with him.”

  He was certainly making up for lost time. She had a whole corner full of them now.

  Sarsen turned slightly so he could watch the group more comfortably without craning his neck. “Hard to believe how much he’s grown since I got here. He reaches my nose, now.”

  Yes, and he was strong enough to pick her up. When exactly had that happened? Sevana knew that he trained daily, in every possible martial skill that a prince should possess, but it never truly sank in what that meant until he’d so easily lifted her in his arms. His body didn’t quite match the man inside, but it was close, much closer than it had been. She could see now, a little, what Hana saw when she looked at Bel.

  “Morgan says he’s almost ready to turn loose on the world, too.” Sarsen said in an almost rhetorical fashion, as if he didn’t expect her to respond.

  “He can charm the warts right off a toad, that one,” she grumbled, ruefully acknowledging that she must have a soft spot for the boy after all. One that was in her head, at that.

  “Is that why you help him?” Sarsen teased, eyes twinkling in unvoiced laughter.

  “I help him because I want him out of my mountain,” she retorted.

  “Yes, yes.” Shaking his head, he rose from his chair. “I think I’ll join in the game. It
looks interesting. What about you?”

  “Oh no, I’m not going anywhere near that thing,” she denied with a vehement shake of the head. “Pierpoint brought it, and the last time I was near a game he invented, my skin was purple for three hours. You cannot pay me to play it. I’ll watch here, from the safety of my chair.”

  With an unconcerned shrug, Sarsen turned for the group, calling out a question of the games rules as he walked.

  Sevana stayed in her chair, as she’d said she would, and watched them play. As expected, someone within the first round earned a punishment and had their skin dyed an interesting shade of green for five minutes, much to everyone else’s amusement. As long as it didn’t happen to her, Sevana found it funny as well. She basked in the heat the fire radiated, watched the hilarity as the game ensued, and hid a contented smile behind the mug in her hands.

  ~ ~ ~

  He couldn’t sleep that night. Bellomi lay down with every intention to do so, but ended up tossing and turning, fighting with his covers. After an hour or so, he gave up and left the bed altogether, changing back into the clothes he’d discarded. In sheer habit, he picked up his swords as he left the room.

  At times, like now, he simply couldn’t bear to be inside. His feet took him out of Big without any conscious direction, going out the front door and into the cool night air. Once he closed the door behind him, he took in a deep lungful, inhaling the rich scents of the forest. Oddly, it didn’t help soothe his restlessness. Normally it did, but tonight he felt unsettled.

  Strange, this wasn’t what he expected on his first night of freedom. After ten years of being caged and cursed, he’d thought he’d be ecstatic to shed its heavy coils. And he did feel that way to a large degree. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the celebratory party with everyone. But some other emotion lurked in his chest, something that he couldn’t name or recognized. It felt hot and hard, weighing at him.

  Not understanding this emotion, he kept walking, feeling driven to keep moving. He stretched his legs out in a quick pace that took him around the base of the mountain and onward into the edge of Noppers Woods. Upon stepping into the tree line, some instinct warned him that he had a tagalong and he spared a quick glance behind him. Baby? Ahh. The cat must have seen him leave and followed. Strangely, though, he didn’t try to catch up with his human student, just trailed along in the shadows.