The Little Dragons

by Rowan Starsmith

  The minute it was dark enough, they descended to the inn yard where the carriage waited. Then they were on the road again, the young women’s sore bones painfully jouncing while Lady Merrit fidgeted. Every few minutes, it seemed, she asked the driver how soon they would arrive at the village of Tummel.

  Chapter 67: Gleve

  It wasn't until the sky began to lighten again that Keiran finally stopped. Gleve bent over to still his pounding heart and nearly toppled the rest of the way. They waited until Gleve had recovered a bit, then began looking around for a safe place to spend the daylight hours. The best they could do was a tree with low branches spread out like a skirt, touching the ground. They crawled into the space underneath and leaned on the rough bark of the broad trunk. Gleve was still breathing hard. Keiran apologized to him. "I'm sorry, my friend."

  "I understand," Gleve responded, his mind latching firmly to the words “my friend.”

  By the time they had rested briefly and shared a few road provisions, the light of the sun was seeping through their feathery canopy, bathing them in soft green light. Tired as they were, their first concern was the rescued sketchbook. Keiran had set the leather jacket down on the rocky ground in front of them. Now he carefully unfolded it. Its tough oiled outer layer was still intact. He found the inner pocket and gently pulled out the flat square package. One at a time he unfolded the corners of the soft leather wrappings until the sketchbook sat exposed in his hands. The lower edge was stained with water, but the rest of it seemed little worse for its months in the outdoors. He carefully opened the front cover. There, in a neat artist's hand, was printed: "Sketches: King Anglewart's Expedition to Search for the Little Dragons, Summer, Year of the Kings 128, Keiran of Hanford, King's Artist."

  Keiran began to turn the pages, slowly, carefully freeing each one from the water stain at the bottom. The early pages were filled with sketches of the King's Men on the expedition, their rough faces and hard hands, a line of them making their way through the forest, each with a large pack and tall walking stick, or circled around a fire cooking a meal, the fire lighting their faces as the first hints of dawn grew in the sky behind them. Keiran shuddered when they reached some drawings of the Foothills Spring campsite. "Those were done on the outward bound trip," he remarked. The beating was on the way back."

  "It's coming back to you now?"

  "As I see each drawing I can remember where I was and what I was thinking as I did it."

  More pages. In spite of their exhaustion, neither young man could imagine getting any sleep on the sharp rocks beneath the tree even if they weren't totally engaged in the drawings before them. They barely breathed as each page revealed more of the story. Now the drawings showed the men working their way up the slopes of the mountains, climbing from rock to rock. The style of the sketches here was rougher than before. "My hands got banged up from the climbing," Keiran explained.

  Pictures of the men at rest were obviously done in caves. They huddled together in small rooms in the rock of the mountain face. "We had to choose small caves," Keiran said. "If it was big enough for a Dragon you risked walking right into a den and becoming the Dragon's supper before you even had a chance to turn around."

  "Oh!" Gleve gasped, as a turning page revealed a scene of terror. A Dragon's claws grasped an unfortunate member of the expedition, his face twisted with fear and pain in the moments before he was taken away. The next page showed members of the expedition tending to the terrible wounds of men the Dragon had injured but not taken.

  "We had to stay in that little cave for days," Keiran shuddered. "The Dragons knew we were there. We had to wait until they lost interest."

  'The men," Gleve asked. "Did they survive?"

  “No. Dragons don't leave ordinary wounds. They burn and fester. Both men died after a couple of days."

  “I know. I've only helped Father Mallory treat Dragon wounds a few times. Most of the patients recovered, but the wounds still burn when a Dragon is nearby. For the rest of the person's life."

  On the next page, there was a sketch of a narrow doorway into the mountainside, intricately carved on both sides. "Oh," Keiran exclaimed. Then, "Oh," louder, startled.

  "What is it?" Gleve asked.

  "How could I have forgotten this? It was the most amazing place, a sort of … palace, carved into the rock. See?" He began to turn the next few pages. It showed the members of the expedition walking, awestruck, through decorated passageways. There were rooms, too, with furniture and hangings. "Some of the rooms were too small for Dragons to get into, so we were safe there." He paused, studying his own drawings. "The carvings and embroidery, look at it," Keiran turned another page. "All Dragons. Wonderful, dazzling pictures of Dragons. The artists who did these were … beyond words."

  Gleve stared, breathless, at the unfolding glory of this hidden place in the mountains. He knew what it must be. "Keiran, have you heard of the Dragon Priestesses?"

  "The Dragon Priestesses, of course I've heard of them. They were evil women who turned the Dragons against humankind, used them to gain the power of Kings."

  "Well, not quite."

  "Another difference between King's People and the People of the Land?"

  "Big difference, this one. I'll explain later. Anyway, I think you must have found their School. They had one in the mountains."

  "Like the Healer's School by the Eastern Sea?"

  "Yeah, like that."

  "Hmm. Look at this room here." The next page showed a room with what appeared to be a low wall on the far side. "There were several of these, rooms looking out into a huge natural cavern. It was full of Dragons." He turned another page. "During the day, when the Dragons were gone, the men closed in one of those look-out places with stone, leaving a space too narrow for the Dragons. We started to use it as a watching-post. We hung a large lantern on a stick just outside. The Dragons didn't like it, but it was protected by an outcrop of rock. They couldn't get at it. That's when I started doing studies of the Dragons."

  Keiran turned page after page, each one filled with detailed sketches of Dragons. This was where his memories had come from, the ones he had drawn on the hearthstones of Father Mallory's cottage. There were Dragons eating, sleeping, snapping at one another, curled up together, looking annoyed, or quizzical, or content. Their sinuous forms wound around one another and the rocks with evil grace. "How I wished I had paint with me!" Keiran exclaimed. "Although I could not really have reproduced their colours--red, green, blue, gold, all sort of luminous, like really fine silk, but more translucent, and more solid at the same time. Full of rainbows." His voice had become dreamy. Gleve studied his face. It had filled with wonder.

  "What happened next? How did they get the egg?"

  "The egg, yes. While we were watching from our lookout, several female Dragons began to make nests on ledges around the outside walls of the cavern and lay eggs in them. One chose a balcony room of our palace. They didn't leave very often, not like the all day hunting of the others, but they did go out sometimes to stretch and groom and eat the food the males brought to them. It was very risky, but the men fashioned a sort of bag, or net, and while our mother Dragon was out taking care of herself, they managed to get it around one of her eggs and drag it back into the passageway behind. That part of the story comes later. I drew lots of pictures of them lowering the egg in its net from the entrance of the palace-cave and carrying it back down the mountain and through the woods. I knew these would be the pictures the King would be the most interested in, the ones that showed his men being heroes, bringing back the egg. Before we get to that, though, I did more exploring and sketching in the palace-cave … I mean the school … and look at what I found."

  Chapter 68: Maida

  Liandra went into labour no more than an hour after Mother Peg and Rafe departed on a journey to Rose Creek. A farmer had come with a message that a Healer was needed and they had gone with him. They were not expected to return until the next evening. Maida sent out a little prayer that they w
ould return by then. A first labour was rarely quick, so Maida had confidence that Mother Peg would be there by the time she was needed.

  She turned her attention to taking care of Liandra as she had many labouring women under Mother Peg’s supervision. She heated water and helped her friend have a warm bath. When she emerged from the tub, Maida produced a light shift woven from thistledown, soft and comfortable. They walked slowly, arm in arm, around the room, around the yard outside. They did breathing exercises together. They talked. Liandra lay down from time to time, seeking a comfortable position. Maida massaged her lower back and sang to her. There was always a full, warm cup of tea, make from the herbs Mother Peg used to ease the pain of labour. Liandra became very dreamy.

  The day had come and gone when Liandra suddenly curled up and groaned. “What’s going on?” Maida asked her.

  Liandra remained curled tight for a moment, then pushed herself into a sitting position. “Maida, I feel sick.”

  Maida helped her to her feet and down the withy passage where Liandra lost whatever remained of her last meal. When they returned, Maida gave her water, then more tea.

  Liandra doubled up again. “Ooooooooh!” she moaned. “Maida, I feel like pushing. What do I do?”

  Maida worked to remain calm, sent out a thought: Oh Mother Peg, please come home.

  Liandra closed her eyes and moaned again. When the contraction passed, she looked into Maida’s eyes. “Mother Peg isn’t back yet.”

  “Don’t worry, she will be.”

  “If she doesn’t, do you know what to do?”

  Maida paused, and the very pause told Liandra the answer.

  “It’s alright, Maida. I know you’ve helped Mother Peg deliver babies many, many times. You know everything you need to know.”

  “That’s right,” said Maida, and tried to sound as if she believed herself.

  Maida worked with Liandra, breathing through the contractions and finding comfortable positions. The Princess’s favourite was on her knees on a cushion on the floor, her elbows on the seat of a chair. Maida urged her to sip more tea between contractions, until the Princess’s eyes were glazed.

  When her waters broke, Liandra’s contractions became much more urgent. In spite of the pain-dulling tea, with each push she let out a long groan, moan, sometimes even a wail. Now Maida helped her into a squatting position and sat behind her, holding part of her weight. Maida was so busy coaching Liandra’s breathing she didn’t have much time to think, but did wonder how she would get into position to catch the baby if Mother Peg didn’t come. Dawn must be approaching. Maybe Mother Peg had decided to stay over the day. Perhaps she could urge Liandra to lean forward with her elbows on the seat of the chair again, receive the baby from behind and hope it just popped out all by itself, as many babies seemed to do.

  Just then there was a welcome sound in the courtyard, footsteps, voices, the rattle of the lantern. Liandra groaned and the sounds outside stopped. “Mother Peg,” Maida called out. “Send Rafe to the stable to do the chores and come quickly!”

  There was shuffling outside and Mother Peg’s voice instructing Rafe. Then the door opened and the Realms’ most famous midwife was there to take over. Maida felt light with relief, although she didn’t pause for a moment her gentle guidance of Liandra’s pushing and breathing.

  Mother Peg surveyed the scene, Maida with her strong arms around the Princess, holding her up, Liandra squatting, knees wide apart, her whole body heaving with effort. The Healer dropped her cloak in a heap, leaving the lantern, still lit, beside it and went to the counter where everything was arranged—warm water, clean basins and towels, scissors and string. She washed her hands and put a clean receiving-cloth over her arm.

  “I think it’s coming!” Liandra took two quick breaths and then shifted immediately into another push and groan.

  “All right, just in time then,” Mother Peg said. “Let’s see what’s happening.”

  The Old One pulled up a low stool and set her still-burning lantern beside it. She awkwardly lowered herself into position. As the Princess went into another massive push and groan, Peg gathered up the front of the light birthing-shift. “Can you hold this too?” she said to Maida, lifting the gathered fabric over Liandra’s heaving belly into Maida’s hand.

  Then Mother Peg stopped, completely frozen. She looked at Maida, who raised her eyebrows in question and alarm at the old woman’s expression.

  Now the young birthing mother caught on that something was amiss. “What?” she said. “Is something wrong?” The last word was almost lost as she went into another long push and groan.

  Chapter 69: Gleve

  Keiran turned a page to reveal sketches of a large room, open to the Dragon cavern at one end. "I had to be careful. The Dragons could have come in, but they seem to mostly be sound asleep at night and, come to think of it, I never did see one in this room, or any sign of one. Anyway, I made these sketches with my lantern as low as I could keep it and still see."

  In front of the wall opposite the opening was a large raised dais. The wall itself was completely covered with huge carvings. Keiran had reproduced them in detail. Over everything floated a magnificent Dragon, its neck, tongue, claws, tail, curled protectively around the other figures in the scene. There, Dragons mixed with women dressed in long cloaks with miniature Dragons on their shoulders, in their arms, or at their feet. "There they are!" Gleve exclaimed. "The Little Dragons! If only we knew, where they found them, how they tamed them …"

  Keiran had turned a page. "Your answer to that question might be here. This was the centre of the carving." A stone woman stood there, her face knowing and peaceful, her hair floating free around her naked body, her hand resting on her very pregnant belly.

  "And on one side of her, this." He turned another page. To the left of the pregnant woman, another naked woman lay on some kind of sloping couch, her hair also floating gently around her, and above her, curled around her, his lower belly between her legs, a Dragon.

  "And on the other side, this." Keiran turned the page to reveal, on the right side of the central pregnant figure, another pregnant woman lying on the same sloping couch, surrounded and supported by other women, her legs spread. From between her thighs emerged the head and shoulders of a miniature Dragon.

  Gleve could not leap to his feet in their tiny shelter, so he leaped to his knees. "Keiran! That's it! The secret of the Dragon Priestesses! They didn't find the Little Dragons, they …"

  Keiran finished the sentence,"… gave birth to them."

  Chapter 70: Mother Peg

  Mother Peg was almost afraid to touch it, for what emerged was not the round head of a baby, but a slender rainbow-sheened reptilian muzzle. As she hesitated, the eyelids opened, revealing glowing, multi-coloured eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” the Princess asked again, then groaned into another heave, this time ending with a wail as a pair of gossamer wings, tightly folded, came into the world.

  “It’s all right,” Mother Peg said, recovering the proper tone for a Healer. “One more good push now.” She overcame her awe enough to put her hands around the creature’s body, supporting its weight lest it slide to the floor. The Princess gave one more great effort, finishing with a relieved squeak as the hind legs and tail slid out.

  The Old One partially wrapped the beautiful little creature in the receiving cloth and held it up for Liandra and Maida to see. Both of their faces registered complete shock, and then the Princess broke into a joyful smile.

  Mother Peg slid a clean cushion of folded cloth under the Princess and Maida carefully lowered her into a sitting position. Liandra reached out for her treasure. It stopped squirming and in turn studied her as she held it in her arms. “His name is Roxtrianatrix, and that’s why the Dragons are here, to greet him.”

  Peg and Maida suddenly became aware that daylight had arrived and no one had closed the shutters. Shadow after long shadow passed over the courtyard.

  “Oh!” the Princess exclaimed, looki
ng up at Maida. “It’s his voice! That’s what I’ve been hearing all along in my head!”

  Interlude: The Dragons

  Lithe bodies

  Twist, turn

  Dance shimmering celtic knots

  In the sky

  Blue, gold, green

  Bronze, black, red

  Weaving wreaths of joy

  The Little ones

  Live again

  Our Keepers

  Return

  Hallelujah.

  Chapter 71: Mother Peg

  Liandra sat in a chair by the hearth cradling her sleeping Little Dragon in her arms. It was two nights since the birth, and the smile had never left her face. It might soon, though, Mother Peg thought. There were some difficult decisions to make. Liandra and Roxtrianatrix must surely go to the Healer’s School and work with the Order of Healers to re-create the Order of Dragon Priestesses. But what of her father and husband-to-be? The King would soon be sending Aden to fetch her. If he were to find out about the Little Dragon, he would be quick to take both of them back to the Castle and into his control. Could they hide her from them? If they tried it might trigger another purge of the Order to find her and punish the Healers. Very soon they must rouse the Princess from her idyll and discuss the future with her.

  Rafe had been looking out through the kitchen window. Now he turned to Mother Peg and pointed. She looked. There were lanterns coming through the forest, along the path from the west.

  “Liandra,” she said. “There’s someone coming. Go to the loft—quickly!”

  Without question, Liandra gathered up her precious bundle and disappeared up the steps to the loft.

  Peg and Maida went out into the yard to greet their visitors. Strangely, there were four women, all dressed in the garb of the Women’s Retreat House. Two wore gowns, one with the grey veil of a Sister, the other with the black veil of a Widow. The other two wore the grey dress of servants, with a matching grey kerchief covering their hair. They walked behind the two older women, hidden in their shadows, but it was obvious that one of them was a Woman of the Land.