“Yes, yes, of course. But the children will be here soon, and I wanted everything ready and I slept so poorly last night …” She quickly covered her mouth with her hand as she turned anxious eyes towards Lleland.
“You couldn’t sleep?” Lleland could see the signs of her troubled night – red rimmed eyes, and dark rings beneath.
Anabel looked away. “Just restless. Don’t worry about me, dear.”
“Are you having bad dreams again?”
They reached the door, and Anabel pulled her arm from Lleland’s as she stepped into the house. “I need to check the dinner. Edith will be here soon. I’m surprised she isn’t already!”
Lleland watched as she bustled into the kitchen, undoing the ties of her cloak as she went. She disappeared into a haze of steam as Lleland turned towards the parlor.
In the corner was a small table with a single book. It had been Father’s, and there wasn’t a day that went by when Anabel did not sit down with it and carefully open the page to where Father had written the names of their children. She couldn’t read the letters, but she knew which name was which.
Lleland opened the book and examined his father’s writing, as he had many times before. Each letter had been carefully written by someone unused to holding a pen. But Father had been able to read and write, and Lleland could remember sitting at his feet, listening to him recite from this one precious volume. It was a rare thing to possess a book, and little Lleland had thought his father owned the only one in the entire world. It wasn’t until after Father’s death, when he stumbled upon the Abbey library, that he realized that wasn’t the case. He smiled at the recollection.
Mother had sent him to the Abbey to deliver a package, and he had come across Brother Amos sitting at a desk, lit by a single candle, writing with a quill. He had stared at the shelves of books that lined the room, before turning his gaze on the man as he scratched his markings on a piece of parchment. He watched for a few minutes until Brother Amos finally lifted his head from the sheet and noticed him for the first time.
“Ah, Lleland, is it? Do you want to see what I’m doing?” Lleland nodded, and walked hesitantly to the man’s side. “I’m writing down words,” Brother Amos continued. “Do you know what words are?”
Lleland frowned. His mother sometimes spoke about right words and wrong words. “Things we say,” he finally replied.
“Correct. Look, each word is spelled with letters. And each letter has a name. G. O. D. God. When you join the letters, and then the words, you have a story.” He pointed out more letters, naming each one, then joined them to form each word. “Was; word; in; sun; moon.”
Lleland frowned as Brother Amos spoke, then pointed to another word. “M … ma.” His eyes were screwed in concentration. “Man.”
“Yes!” Brother Amos beamed. “You’re a quick learner! How old are you, boy?”
“Nine.”
“Nine, hmm? Very good. Now give me your package and run along home.”
Lleland did as he was told, and forgot about the incident until two days later when Brother Amos appeared at their door. “Brother Amos, what a surprise!” Mother wiped her hands nervously on her apron as she gestured for the man to enter. “Can I offer you some wine?”
“No, Mistress, but thank you. I wish to speak to you about your son.”
“Lleland?” Mother’s eyes darted to where he stood in the corner. “What’s he done?”
“He hasn’t done anything, Mistress. But I’ve noticed that he’s a bright young lad. What are your plans for his future?”
Mother pulled back slightly in surprise. “His future? Well … I … I suppose he’ll become a mason like his father.”
“If your husband still lived, Mistress, that would almost certainly be the case. But who will train him? Do you know someone who will take him on as an apprentice?” He leaned forward. “Without his father, his opportunities are limited, Mistress. I’m sorry to distress you, but you must see the truth of what I’m saying.”
Lleland saw with surprise that tears were gathering in Mother’s eyes. He stepped forward. “Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “I’m going to be an archer.”
“An archer, eh?” said Brother Amos, leaning back in his seat. “And what will you fight?”
“Dragons,” Lleland said. Anabel drew in a shuddering breath.
“No,” she whispered. “Brother Amos is right. You need a future.” She turned back to the priest. “What are you suggesting?”
“Every year the Abbey sponsors the education of boys that are intelligent and eager to learn. I believe Lleland would be an excellent candidate. We will teach him his numbers and letters, and if he chooses to continue his studies beyond that, we will provide him the opportunity to do so.”
“He’ll learn to read and write?”
“Yes! And more besides.”
“I don’t want to go to school!” Lleland had seen the long faces of the boys that trudged their way to the Abbey each morning. “I want to fight!”
“You’ll do as you’re told!” Anabel said. She turned back to the priest. “Can I think on it?”
“Of course! But don’t take too long – there are other boys that would welcome such an opportunity.”
“Father wouldn’t send me to school!” Lleland shouted as soon Brother Amos left the house.
“Your father spent three years at school,” Anabel said sharply. “Where do you think he learned to read and write? And Brother Amos is right, without some learning, you have no future.”
“But –”
“Not another word, Lleland.”
Anabel had made her decision by the next morning, and Lleland was sent to the Abbey to give Brother Amos the news. He didn’t dare disobey Mother, but he scowled as he walked, kicking the stones along the dusty road. If only Father was alive, things would have been different.
The first few months of school had been torturous for Lleland. The restrictions of the classroom chafed his spirit, and many were the days when he stared out the window, longing for the freedom to roam as he chose. As he walked to class each morning he carried his staff, and leaping from rocks and fences, fought against an imaginary foe; in the evenings, when his mother finally released him from chores, he rushed to the green to practise. The days when there was no school were spent with Grim, trailing him through the forest, or improving his skill with the bow.
But as the months passed, the letters Lleland had to learn by rote began to take on new meaning as they formed words, and then sentences. Ideas leaped from the page, leading to new thoughts, and soon Lleland was devouring the books housed in the Abbey library as though his life depended on them. Religious writings, as well as the work of Aristotle, Socrates and Plato, broadened his mind, and like a sponge, he wanted more. He learned about the celestial beings and earthly creatures, and studied algebra and geometry. He read in amazement about strange and wondrous beasts, unseen in the civilized world – animals with two heads, pygmies that walked on their hands, monsters of the deep that swallowed whole ships, and sirens that lured sailors to their deaths. When he wasn’t training his body to kill, he studied maps and trade routes plied by merchants as they skirted the end of the world, and when he was old enough, went to taverns that sailors were known to frequent to discover what he could about the lands that lay beyond his own. The sailors, coarse and ill-spoken as they were, spoke of realms filled with spices that kings were willing to give gold to acquire; lands where vines covered the hillsides, warmed by the sun all year long; places held in the grip of winter, no matter the season. Lleland eagerly recorded the accounts in his daybook, rereading them time and again; and at night, when he fell asleep, his body exhausted from its vigorous training and his mind spinning with new ideas, he had dreamt of these faraway places, of sailing across the oceans and seeing all the world’s marvels. He jealously watched the birds in the forest leaving for warmer climes each autumn, and when they returned in the spring, he wondered what they had seen on their travels. Had they tast
ed the sweet nectar of fragrant islands or seen the leviathan of the deep? Did they know how fortunate they were that they had wings to fly?
His thirst for learning grew and expanded. As an adult, Lleland spent time traveling the southern reaches of the kingdom. He explored the coastal regions and fishing villages that dotted the shoreline, and marveled at the architectural wonders in the towns. He discovered artifacts left behind by ancient invaders, and traced his fingers over ruined walls, built hundreds of years before – a reminder of what had been. The scraps of knowledge that he gained left him craving more, and he expanded his travels to the west and east of the city. The only area still undiscovered was the north, where the Northern Mountains dominated both life and the landscape.
The sound of children’s laughter pulled Lleland from his musings, and he replaced the book on the table before rising to greet his sister and her family. When Father had died, Edith was just a toddler, and as the years passed, she had served as the perfect recipient for his superior wisdom and knowledge. Her willingness to sit at her brother’s feet had waned as the years passed, however, until her companions were other girls her age, whose ambitions in life were simple – to marry, manage a home and raise a family. She had accepted Alan’s proposal of marriage when she was seventeen, and despite his being nearly twice her age, the marriage had been happy and fruitful.
Edith and Alan had been in the house for just a few minutes when Eve announced that dinner was served. By the standards of simple folk it was a feast – roast pheasant, baked turnips and spiced bread. None of it was burned, as Anabel had feared, and the bird was turned to perfection.
“Did you hear that Queen Matilda has taken another playwright under her wing?” Lleland said as Eve cleared away the plates. He caught her eye and smiled, and she blushed as she bustled from the room.
Edith kicked Lleland beneath the table. “None of us can possibly keep up with her favorites,” she said. She turned to Anabel. “Did you hear about the latest scandal involving Denton, Mother? He’s been insisting …” she paused. “Mother, are you listening?”
“What’s that, dear?”
Edith shot Lleland a glance as Eve returned to the room, placing a tray of small desserts on the table.
“What about the spiced figs?” Anabel said.
“Spiced figs, mum? You said nothing about figs today, mum.”
“I didn’t? I must have forgotten.” Her brow was furrowed. “Bring the mulled wine, then.”
“Yes, mum.”
Lleland watched as Eve left the room, then turned to his mother. “What’s wrong, Mother?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong!”
“You’re distracted.”
“I’m not.” Anabel gave a little laugh. “No, no, just a little tired. The wind kept me up last night.”
Eve returned with the wine, and Lleland allowed the matter to drop. The meal ended and they retired to the parlor as the children went outside to play, leaving the adults to their conversation. The afternoon waned, and as the light began to fail, Edith gathered up her brood.
“Are you leaving, too?” she asked Lleland as Alan lifted her cloak around her shoulders.
“I’ll stay a little longer,” Lleland replied, placing a kiss on Edith’s cheek. She smiled, and with a wave to her mother, left the house on Alan’s arm. Lleland poured himself another glass of wine and took a seat in the parlor across from Anabel.
“What’s wrong, Mother?” he said. “You didn’t give me an answer when I asked if you were having bad dreams.”
Anabel looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “They started about a week ago.” Lleland leaned back in his chair with a frown. After Father’s death, Anabel’s peace had been fragile. The loss of tranquility was always accompanied by vivid and terrifying dreams. Monsters stalked her nights and stole her rest.
“Why?” he asked gently.
The light caught the unshed tears in her eyes. “Your Father and I would have celebrated forty years last week,” she said. “I suppose he’s been in my thoughts more than usual.” She sighed. “I miss him so much, even after all this time. We should have grown old together.” Lleland’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. The dragon had not just taken Father’s life, it had robbed Anabel of the love and support of a husband, and left himself and Edith without a parent.
“The dragon is dead,” he said. “Don’t give it the power to steal your peace.”
“Something’s going to happen, son. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Lleland said.
“Please, Lleland, stay away from the dragons. I know how much you long for vengeance, but I cannot lose another I love to one of those beasts.”
Lleland sighed. “I’ll take great care to preserve my life to a ripe old age,” he said. “Please stop this fretting.” He patted her hand. “I must go, Mother, or I’ll not be fit to teach anyone tomorrow.”
She pressed her lips together and looked away. He watched her for a moment, then leaning down, kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, before striding out the door.
Chapter 4
Lleland was eighteen when he killed his first dragon. It had been more chance than skill, but it had set his heart racing and fire spilling through his veins.
It had been late October, a beautiful autumnal day. The sky was a brilliant turquoise, and the leaves glowed in bright hues of red and orange. Lleland and Grim had left the city early that morning to travel into the hill country. On a fast mount, the distance could be covered in a couple of hours, and Grim had allowed Lleland to ride one of the hunters in the forest stables, kept there for the king’s hunting parties. As chief verderer, it was up to Grim to ensure the horses were always ready for the hunt, and that the hunters found their game. He had received no formal education, and his skills in reading and writing were rudimentary, but there was nothing about the forest Grim did not know. He could name every plant and bird within the 20,000-hectare forest, and track an animal through any terrain. He knew where each herd of deer was currently grazing, and noted those that were sick and injured. He could point out fox lairs and badger dens, and could name the birds in the forest by their calls. He had never married, preferring the quiet solitude of the forest, and seldom went into the city, except to deliver a monthly report to the king’s steward. It had been in pursuit of that task that he had first seen Lleland with his bow.
It was midmorning when Grim and Lleland reached the rolling hills. They didn’t stop, but pushed their way through the valleys until Grim finally called a halt on the banks of a river. The water was sluggish, as though preparing for the cold that would soon spread its icy fingers and freeze it into place. Rocks were strewn across the river bed, some rising above the level of the water. As always, Lleland carried his weapons. They had become an extension of him, and whenever he left the city, his bow was in his hand and his sword at his side. Both he and Grim also carried a staff, and Grim led Lleland into the river. “Come lad,” he said, “show me how well you can fight on a slick, uneven surface!” Lleland followed as Grim sprang from rock to rock until they stood facing each other in the middle of the waterway, their staves extended.
“I’ll show you, old man,” Lleland replied with a grin. He lifted his rod and struck it tentatively against Grim’s, gaining his balance as Grim blocked the blow. Lleland’s next swing was more forceful, and the sparring increased in speed as both men parried and attacked as they hopped between the rocks. Some of the boulders swayed beneath Lleland’s feet, and he had to concentrate to keep his balance as he avoided Grim’s blows. The game ended when Lleland fell into the river, gasping as the cold water drenched him. His clothes were sopping wet, and he stood for a moment, dripping as Grim laughed.
“Take a hike up the hill, lad,” he said. “That’ll dry you out.” Grim lay down on the sunny bank of grass and closed his eyes. Leaving his sword and staff, Lleland grabbed his bow and arrows and headed up the slope. By the time he reached the summit, his
clothes were damp rather than dripping, and a sheen of sweat had built up on his brow. The hill was not high, and he could see Grim lying on the grass below. He turned to view the panorama that unfolded before him. Hills spread into the distance, like a wrinkled piece of cloth. A movement caught his eye, and he turned to see something circling high above. His first thought was that it was an eagle, but as Lleland watched, the creature turned and the sun glanced off shining scales. His heart started to race, and he dropped to his haunches behind a rock, keeping his eye fixed on the creature above.
With as much stealth as possible, Lleland strung his bow and notched an arrow. The dragon dropped a little lower, and he could see that it was not as big as the one that had killed his father. It also wasn’t black, but rather a dark, rust color. It circled lower, and Lleland drew the bow tight against his ear, holding the weapon steady. He aimed his bow at the creature’s chest and waited for a chance to release the barb. The dragon swept closer, and Lleland closed one eye. He judged the creature to be only two hundred yards away. He waited another moment, then released the arrow. It sang as it leaped off the string, flying straight and sure. The beast turned towards the shooting barb as it whistled through the air, and the breath caught in Lleland’s throat. The arrow was going to miss its mark! But fate was guiding the arrow, and it struck the creature at the point where the wing met the huge body. It sank in, and a stream of flame escaped the dragon’s mouth. The arrow in its side had rendered the wing useless, and it fell towards the earth as Lleland watched, open mouthed. Just yards from where Lleland still crouched behind the rock the dragon crashed into the ground, making the earth tremble. Dust, grass and bits of rock flew into the air in every direction. Lleland whipped out another arrow as the dragon lifted its head and looked straight at him. Its eyes were blazing, and it roared in pain and frustration as it rose to its feet. It snapped at the arrow in its side with its massive jaws, and Lleland notched the second arrow. He drew back the string as the dragon’s tail swung through the air, narrowly missing him, then released it and watched as the iron tip sank into the dragon’s leathery chest. It fell back to the ground with a stream of flame, and using its talons, clawed at the arrow that protruded beneath its heart.
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