dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon

by Linda K Hopkins

  Across the road the church bells tolled eleven. A breeze stirred and cool air washed over his back, but it did little to soothe the constant irritation. His throat was burning, and he threw back a cup of water, knowing as he did so that it would do nothing to ease the pain.

  He stared into the dark night. The sky was inky black, the stars and moon hidden behind a curtain of cloud, but Lleland was able to see clearly. A mouse scurried along the length of the garden wall. There was a squeak, cut short as an owl dived out of the dark sky and caught the little creature in its sharp talons. Lleland turned away and reached for his daybook. Sitting on the bed, he opened it and started reading, hoping to distract himself. He turned the page and stared down at the sketches Lydia had made. The sacred grove where they examined the ancient carvings seemed so distant, the peace he had felt then shattered. He pushed the daybook away.

  The church bells started tolling in the distance, and closer by, the town crier shouted out the midnight hour. Lleland rose to his feet and went over to the window, staring once more into the darkness. Zach’s chamber was on the upper floor, one storey above Lleland’s. He heard a rustling, and he glanced up to see Zach gliding from the window, dressed only in breeches. His golden wings spread from his back, visible even in the low light. He turned and glanced at Lleland. “Come with me,” Zach said.

  “No.”

  Zach stared at him for a moment then shot into the sky, disappearing behind the clouds. There was a muted flash of light. Lleland turned away from the window and blew out a long stream of flame, which curled around the blackened rafters. He glanced at the window, then reluctantly turned away and threw himself onto the bed. When he finally fell asleep, the eastern sky was started to lighten with the coming dawn.

  Chapter 32

  Lleland carried a slim volume of writings against his chest as he walked in the direction of the Ambassador’s residence. The days following the Gail party had slipped by, his promise to Muriel forgotten, until he saw the book lying on the shelf. He didn’t need to deliver the volume himself, but an apology was in order for his tardiness. He had also written a page of notes and questions for Muriel to consider as she read the book which were easier to explain in person.

  He announced himself at the Gail residence twenty minutes later, and after a short wait, was ushered into a small parlor where Muriel was seated in a chair beside the window. She looked up as he entered.

  “Good day, Master Seaton.”

  “Good day Mistress. I’ve brought the book I promised to lend you.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I also wanted to apologize for taking so long in bringing it to you. I’m afraid I got sidetracked by other matters.” She flushed slightly as Lleland held out the slim volume. “You’ll see I’ve written some points for you to consider as you read,” he said as she took the book from his hand. Her fingers brushed against his, and her blush deepened as she dropped her gaze. He looked at her in surprise as the smell of her pleasure wafted through the air. He cleared his throat. “Er, perhaps we can go through them together so you understand what to look for,” he said.

  “Yes, please,” she said. She gestured to a chair near her own. “Please sit.”

  Lleland sat as Muriel took the loose page from the book and smoothed it out over her lap. With a brief glance in Lleland’s direction, she started reading the first question aloud.

  Lleland was busy explaining when Syngen Gail walked into the room a short while later. He paused at the threshold as Lleland rose to greet him.

  “Brought that book for Muriel, I see. Well, since you’re here, why don’t you join us for supper?” He rang a bell without waiting for a reply. “Master Seaton will be joining us this evening,” he told the footman who appeared at the door. He looked back at Lleland. “So, what ridiculous ideas are you planting in my niece’s mind?”

  “A little Aristotle, Ambassador.”

  “Aristotle, eh?” He turned to Muriel. “Just don’t start lecturing me about ethics, niece. Just one word about Aristotle, and I’ll bar Master Seaton from ever entering this house again.”

  Muriel’s eyes widened before she dropped her gaze. “Yes, uncle.”

  Syngen laughed. “You silly goose,” he said. “I’m just teasing. You know I’ll listen to you expound on Aristotle as long as you want.” He turned to Lleland. “You must get heartily sick of philosophizing.”

  Lleland shrugged. “Not really. And I don’t limit myself to the masters. I read other books, too.”

  “You do? Such as?”

  “Books of exploration and discovery. There are so many things to learn! But I have other interests as well.” Syngen raised his eyebrows questioningly. “I’m also a trained archer.”

  Syngen’s expression turned incredulous. “A scholar and an archer. That’s quite a combination.”

  Lleland shrugged. “Perhaps. Learning the bow was a childhood interest that I found I enjoyed. And it seems to me that honing the body as well as the mind makes for a well-rounded man.”

  “And what do you hunt, Master Seaton?”

  Lleland opened his mouth to answer, then paused. Was he still a dragon hunter? “Food for the table, and whatever threatens my life,” he replied.

  “Ah.” Syngen poured a glass of wine and held it out to him. “And did you encounter any threats in the mountains?”

  Lleland stared into his wine, before taking a long draught. “No,” he said.

  The butler appeared at the door and bowed. “Supper is served, milord,” he said.

  Syngen nodded. “After you, my dear,” he said to Muriel. He fell in step beside Lleland as they followed behind.

  “You don’t have other guests joining you tonight?” Lleland asked as they were ushered into a room with a table already laden with food. A junior footman stood behind each chair.

  “Not tonight,” Syngen replied with a grin. “Does that make you feel easier?”

  Lleland smiled. “Absolutely,” he said.

  The first course was oyster pie, following by pheasant roasted with chestnuts. The dishes were cleared away, and Syngen leaned back in his chair, wine glass in hand. “I’m interested in learning more about your trip, Master Seaton. Tell me about the places you visited.”

  “Yes, I would love to hear about them, too,” Muriel chimed in eagerly.

  “I’ve a particular interest in history, so I enjoyed those towns with ancient ruins. Studying ruins is really a study of people, you know!”

  The head footman returned bearing a large platter of succulent red meat and placed it on the table. “Please, continue,” Syngen said, spearing a piece of meat with a fork. It was still attached to the bone, and Syngen grabbed his knife to cut it at the same moment that the footman leaned forward to offer his aid. The knife sliced through the footman’s palm, making him jerk away in surprise as blood welled to the surface and dripped onto the table.

  “Oh, my!” Muriel exclaimed, quickly pushing herself from the table and turning away. She drew a handkerchief from her gown and held it in the direction of the servant. “Please, go and attend to that at once,” she said. The scent of blood filled the air as the servant pressed the cloth to the wound, quickly saturating the delicate linen. Lleland stared at the crimson cloth as a craving stronger than anything he’d ever felt slammed into him, making him clench his fists in an effort to control himself. He could taste the blood in the air, and it was only through a supreme battle of wills that he stopped himself leaping over the table and licking the man’s blood from his hand. The heat was coursing through his veins, growing in intensity, and he closed his eyes against the burning flames, dousing them through sheer will.

  When he finally opened them again, it was to see Syngen staring at him, his narrowed eyes watching him intently. Lleland gave a weak smile. “I’m not good around blood,” he said. Syngen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “You’re a hunter!” he said incredulously.

  “Human blood,” Lleland clarified cautiously. “It
reminds me of my own mortality.”

  Syngen stared at him for another moment, then gave a dry snort of laughter. “Quite,” he said.

  “I don’t enjoy the sight of blood, either,” Muriel said, finally turning back to the table as the footman disappeared through the door. “It makes me feel quite ill.”

  “Well, the footman, with his blood, has gone, so you may both rest easy,” Syngen said, surreptitiously wiping the spot on the table with his sleeve. The smell still lingered in the air, however, playing havoc with Lleland’s senses as he helped himself to some of the cooked meat on the platter.

  A junior footman took the place of the man injured and served the next course, but when the sweetmeats were brought to the table, the wounded footman returned, his hand swathed in snow-white linens, with a note on a tray. “This just arrived for Mistress Muriel,” he said.

  Muriel took the missive with a nod and opened it. She looked at Syngen a moment later. “It’s a note from Maude,” she said. “A few friends are planning to go walking in the country on Sunday and she wants to know if I’ll join her.” She turned to Lleland. “Perhaps you’d like to come too?”

  Lleland and Syngen both looked at Muriel in surprise. “I, er …” Lleland began, but he was cut off by Syngen.

  “I’m sure Master Seaton has other things to occupy his time other than walking, my dear,” he said. He turned to Lleland. “Isn’t that so?”

  Lleland met his gaze. “Actually, I think a walk in the country would be most enjoyable, thank you.” Lleland said. Syngen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he turned to Muriel with a smile.

  “It seems I was mistaken. Master Seaton is quite the man of leisure!”

  Muriel smiled as the color rose in her cheeks. She looked down at the note. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’ll go write my reply directly, and see you in the parlor afterwards.” Clutching her sheet of paper, Muriel hurried from the room as Syngen leaned back in his seat and picked up his glass of wine.

  “Do you think that was a wise thing to do, Master Seaton?” Syngen said, staring at the red liquid. “You don’t want to give Muriel false hopes.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Ambassador,” Lleland replied. “Mistress Muriel is an intelligent woman, eager to have someone treat her as an equal.”

  “Ah!” Syngen took a sip of wine. “But you’re not her equal, are you? In intelligence, you’re her superior, and in social standing, you’re decidedly her inferior. I’m happy to indulge her when it comes to learning, but don’t think for a moment I would approve of anything else.” Lleland sipped and remained silent. “It’s not that I don’t like you,” Syngen continued, “but I find you something of an enigma. The matter with the blood, for instance. I’ve never met a hunter with a queasiness for blood before. Now it may be that you are exaggerating the truth about your skill in weaponry, but it’s clear that you’re a strong man who has no need to resort to dishonesty.” Lleland frowned. “And then there’s something else … something I can’t put my finger on. Almost as if …” He shook his head.

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Lleland said, “but I’m not a dastardly individual who needs to be kept from your niece.”

  Syngen laughed. “Oh, I know that. But still, one can never be too careful. And I would never approve of a match between the two of you. Her mother would haunt me from the grave if I did. But I do intend to watch you closely, Master Seaton. There’s a mystery about you that I intend to discover.” He rose from his seat. “Let’s retire to the parlor where we can be more comfortable.”

  As Lleland walked home that evening, he wondered what Syngen knew about dragons. Twice, now, he had intimated that there was more to be found in the mountains than Lleland had revealed he’d seen. Did he know about the dragons of Storbrook? And if he did, did he know that humans could drink their blood? Was that what he meant when he said there was something else about Lleland? It would behoove Lleland to be on his guard. The ambassador was just a little too suspicious for comfort.

  Sunday morning dawned wet and rainy, and Lleland was not surprised to receive the note from Muriel informing him that the plans for the day had been canceled. He was disappointed – he’d hoped that spending time in her company would help push aside thoughts of Lydia. It seemed to him that no matter what he did, she invaded his thoughts and drove away his peace. It was because of the blood bond, of course, but knowing that did not make things any easier. If anything, it made it far, far worse.

  Chapter 33

  Lleland sat down on the edge of his narrow bed as a wave of nausea washed over him. His head ached, his back itched, and his skin burned so badly that he wanted to claw it off with his nails. In his hand he held a note from Muriel. She had completed the book, as well as the questions he’d prepared, and wondered whether he would look over her answers. Included in the note was an invitation to join her and her uncle for the evening. He groaned, wishing he could crawl into a corner and die. Which could happen soon, he acknowledged to himself. He barely had enough strength now to walk down the road. He could see the wondering looks of his students, and heard the murmurings of the other Masters, but he ignored them all. The only one he couldn’t ignore was Zach, who knew exactly what he was doing. But he was Jack’s spawn, and if sacrificing his life meant saving others, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  The nausea subsided, and Lleland crossed over to the window. The shutters were open despite the rain, and cool, damp air filled the room. It did little to relieve the heat that burned through him, but it felt pleasant on his skin. He leaned against the window frame and stared out into the night sky. In the distance he could hear the call of a nightjar.

  He was about to turn away when a soft sound caught his ear. He peered into the darkness, then stepped back when Aaron suddenly appeared before him, hovering outside his window.

  “Aaron,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk,” Aaron said. “Can I come in?”

  Lleland stepped back and gestured into the room as Aaron dropped through the window and landed on the floor. “Why’re you here?” Lleland said.

  “The Dragon Council starts tomorrow, and Keira and Lydia wanted to come into the city.”

  “Lydia’s here? In Civitas?”

  “Yes. We leave tomorrow for the hill country. Zach will be coming too. He tells me you’re not feeding. And I can see how much you’ve weakened.” He clamped a hand on Lleland’s shoulder. “You must eat, Lleland, or you’ll die.”

  “Being a monster is a fate worse than death,” Lleland said. He stepped out of Aaron’s grasp and turned away. “I won’t shed innocent blood.”

  There was a moment of silence. “You’re not Jack,” Aaron finally said.

  Lleland turned and stared at Aaron. “Jack’s blood runs through my veins,” he said. “I feel him, in my dreams. I see what he sees, and enjoy being a monster. I’m his dragon spawn, Aaron. You know that! I’m as black as the devil, just as he was.”

  “You’re reliving Jack’s memories from his blood. You’re not feeding yourself, so you’re not strong enough to resist them. But you’re not Jack. And his isn’t the only blood that runs through your veins. You’re succumbing to your fears, but Lleland, you’re a dragon hunter! You’ve killed dragons stronger and more powerful than yourself. Are you going to be defeated by Jack?”

  “This isn’t about being defeated by Jack! Am I scared? Of course! I’m scared I’ll become just like him. You yourself admitted you’ve never seen a grown man turn into a dragon. You don’t know what will happen!”

  “I have faith in you, Lleland. It’s when you overcome your fears that you’re truly free. Didn’t Aristotle say that fear is the anticipation of evil? Jack never overcame his fears, and he gave up hope. He lost the person he loved the most and gave into his despair. But you, Lleland, are not without hope. You’re not a monster. You have people who love you.”

  Lleland turned away. “Are you willing to risk innocent lives
to find out if you’re right?” he said.

  “If your actions result in one innocent human losing their life, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

  “And one person will be dead.”

  “Despite your low opinion of yourself, I don’t believe for a single minute that you will be a threat to people.” He paused. “When you encountered Jack, he was indeed evil. But that was after he lost his human wife.”

  Lleland turned and stared at Aaron. “He was married to a human? What happened to her?”

  “Jack’s father killed her in a moment of insanity. But Jack blamed me for her death.” He shrugged. “I’d ordered him to leave his wife behind when we went to defend our borders.”

  “Jack attacked Civitas because of you?”

  “He wanted to wrest mastership from me. He also kidnapped Keira and her sister. He was going to kill them.”

  “He killed my father because he hated you?”

  “Yes.”

  Lleland nodded. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

  “I’ll leave. But think about what I said. Don’t become Jack’s last victim.”

  A carriage, sent by Syngen Gail, arrived at the university a short while later, and Lleland climbed into it gratefully. He leaned against the plush velvet seats and closed his eyes as the carriage rattled along the cobbled roads. Because of Aaron, his father had lost his life. The cord of fate became more snarled and twisted. The carriage lurched to a stop fifteen minutes later outside the ornate ambassadorial residence. A footman led Lleland past the hall and up a flight of stairs into the parlor. Muriel smiled at him from her seat beneath the window, and the sweet scent of pleasure filled the air.

  “Master Seaton, please come in,” she said. She gestured towards a seat opposite her, and Lleland took it gratefully. “Are you quite all right?” she said. “You look a little pale.”

  Lleland forced a smile. “Quite fine, thank you Mistress.”

  “Uncle Syngen will be down in a moment.” The book Lleland had lent her was on her lap, and she laid her hands over it as she spoke.