by K S Augustin
“Sycophants to wealthy patrons, you mean?”
Gamsin switched her gaze to his face. “Those too. But mostly I’m talking about men who have little but their looks. There are a few such men who are also nice, but they usually have so many women fawning over them that you can barely see them through the crush of hair, fluttering fans and expensive gowns.”
“I know the type,” he agreed. “All they want to do is gamble with their friends, but their mothers are convinced they need wives to coddle them and so they’re unceremoniously thrown to the pack of female wolves.”
One side of Gamsin’s mouth twitched, but she stilled the movement.
“There are more, many more who are handsome yet cruel,” she continued. “Their reputations precede them, yet women who should know better still can’t keep away from them.”
He didn’t even glance at her, as she was expecting him to. She made those comments to elicit some kind of response but, whether consciously or not, Ankoll refused to play the game.
“Human nature sometimes causes us to act like moths to a flame,” was all he said, and she ground her teeth in frustration.
Because she knew that Ankoll, who was handsome and smart and funny, would have laid waste to the entire female population of Mishlow City in one eye-blink. And, what’s more, she knew he already knew this. His spare, graceful movements betrayed an understanding of, and confidence in, his own body. Yet, here he was, hidden away in an obscure keep at the end of the world, as if nothing else mattered but reading and baking bread.
And what happened when one female stumbled upon his home? Did he try to impress her with his wealth or manners? Astound her with his breadth of education? Show off with feats of strength? No, he treated her like a sister and cooked for her.
Experience had taught Gamsin never to ignore that little voice in her head and, right now, it was telling her that something wasn’t right. In fact, a perverse part of her wished Ankoll would try to seduce her just so she could skewer him with a spike of sharpened steel and consider her faith—or lack of it—in masculinity restored.
It was all so very mysterious…
But, in turn, Gamsin surprised Ankoll. He stole small sideways glances at her, aware of the intensity in her speculative gaze as she watched him work the bread dough.
That she could read was the first surprise. He thought it was a luxury but she told him that, in her trade, it was a necessity. For how far could a thief get if she couldn’t read the signs outside warehouses, shops and other places of lucrative pilfering? Like everything about the small thief, it all made perfect sense. From her tales, he knew that heavy objects like books were ill-suited to the light-footed lifestyle of a burglar and felt a stab of perverse pleasure at her unfeigned enthusiasm for his library. After countless years of use, he had taken his books for granted, and it was refreshing to regain the delight of opening pages and skimming through text, even if it was through somebody else’s eyes.
“So it was Nareg who taught you to read?” he asked, as he placed the dough in an oiled bowl and set it on the wide window ledge. He turned in time to see a wistful smile flit across her face, a surprising contrast to the impervious self-control she tried to show him.
“Read, steal, juggle, climb. Nareg was as a father to me.”
Ankoll wiped his hands slowly on a square of rough cloth. “You haven’t had a happy life, have you?”
That’s what surprised him. That someone who had led a hard and painful life could still retain an air of calm that most would have envied.
Gamsin shrugged. “Happy? What’s happy? An aristocrat would laugh to think someone could be joyous over a soft, freshly baked piece of bread.” She nodded to the open window and the bowl sitting beside it. “Yet, me with my bread, and she with her scented bath, who’s to say which of us is happier?”
Ankoll couldn’t restrain the rising admiration he felt for her. She listened to what he was saying, asked intelligent questions and often made profound observations. She was smart, tenacious, and he found her slim form alluring.
“You make a good point, Gamsin Thief.”
More and more, he wondered if, after centuries of waiting, he had finally found the one capable of setting him free.
Set him free.
There wasn’t much time left, he knew, and he would inevitably have to tell her the truth. Would she run screaming into the night as so many others had…or would she stay?
“Tomorrow…” Ankoll twirled the stem of his crystal wineglass, sending reflected shards of red light spinning against the solar’s bookshelves. By unspoken consent, they brought their evening meal down to the solar each day, both comfortable amid the books, ornate tapestries and exotic rugs that carpeted the floor.
He paused, obviously uncomfortable, then began again.
“Tomorrow is the new moon.” He hesitated again, clearing his throat, trying another tack. “How much do you know about the legend of Ankoll Castle, Gamsin Thief?”
She was now used to the nickname he’d given her, but her laugh was embarrassed. She’d tried telling him as little as possible about the reason for her long trek to the castle, but thought that the time had finally come for her to be completely candid with him.
“Besides that old sailor, you mean? Well, I didn’t believe him immediately so I decided to do some research,” she explained. “Mishlow City has several libraries and I visited them all. There were many conflicting stories.”
“But did they have a common thread?”
“I suppose.” She thought over what she’d read. “The basic elements are the same. A prince of Ankoll Castle, a wizard of great strength, got turned into a dragon by a wizard of even greater strength.”
“Do the stories say why?”
“No. Just that a great battle occurred and that’s what happened. As revenge for such punishment, the dragon blighted the land, killing knights and stealing treasure and carrying it back to the castle. The attacks grew even more vicious as the last of the Ankoll line died out. Then, over the centuries, less and less was heard of the dragon until, now, it’s regarded as nothing more than a fanciful legend.”
“The dragon was under a curse,” Ankoll said in a strangled tone.
“All good stories have a curse,” Gamsin commented. She looked at Ankoll’s face and frowned at his paleness. What was wrong with him? “In this case one of the stories says that the dragon takes a human form for half of each month.” Her voice slowed as the import of what she was saying hit her. “The dragon turns back into a man on the full moon for two weeks. Then, on the new moon, turns back into a dragon.”
Silence pooled in the room as they looked at each other.
“Are you trying to tell me…” Gamsin stopped, unable to continue.
“I am the dragon of Ankoll Castle,” he told her.
“No.” She shook her head. “Such things don’t exist.”
“I am the dragon of Ankoll Castle.”
“No!” Gamsin didn’t realise she was shouting or that she’d overturned her chair when she shot to her feet.
After two weeks of bliss, of merely enjoying the company of a man without fear of physical assault, of spending her days reading and eating, laughing and arguing, fear gripped her by the throat. Finally, she was beginning to relax. For the first time in her life, she was getting used to a consistent schedule of warmth and food and now her tenuous sense of security was crashing down around her feet. Had she enjoyed such security with a madman?
“I was the person cursed by the wizard,” he said loudly, while Gamsin kept shaking her head. He strode over to her and grabbed her by the hands—touching her for the first time since she woke in the round chamber fourteen days ago—forcing them away from her ears.
“I have been alive for more than five centuries,” he shouted.
“No! You cannot be!”
Tears streamed down Gamsin’s face and Ankoll’s expression softened. He dropped his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not me
an to distress you. After so many years, I fear the ability to explain myself has abandoned me.” He frowned, his eyes filling with pain.
And, for the first time, Gamsin was driven to comfort another. She knew her tears weren’t his fault. It was a reaction to her own selfish comforts, the fantasy that she could spend the rest of her life locked away in the keep, away from a harsh and violent world.
She sniffed loudly and wiped the moisture from her eyes. Strange how, at that moment, in the presence of a large, capable man, she felt she was the one who needed to be strong. She attempted a wavering smile. It was a small smile but she could tell he appreciated the gesture by the way his body relaxed.
“Come,” he said. “Sit by the fire and I’ll tell you everything.” He offered his hand and she took it, letting him lead her to the two high-backed chairs that always faced the hearth.
He sat back in his chair, watching the flames with brooding eyes, reliving a past centuries old.
“As you’ve probably surmised by now, I am—was—a Prince of Ankoll. The last prince. My parents, the king and queen, wanted me to learn courtly duties, but my love was sorcery. Wilfully, I disobeyed them to pursue my own interests. As their only son and heir, they begged me to put the administration and future of their holdings before my arcane studies, but I closed my ears to their entreaties. My father and his proctor would tour our land while I hid myself away in the keep. My mother would listen to petitions, but I was happy and ignorant in my solitude. I thought I was…invincible.”
Gamsin wished there was something she could say to ease the anguish in his voice. But whatever happened had happened centuries ago, and there was nothing she could do or say that could change such history.
“As I grew in power, I challenged other sorcerers, confident—you may even say arrogant—in my abilities. And, it’s true, I defeated them.”
He grew silent and the crackles from the burning logs once more dominated the solar.
“What happened?” Gamsin prompted in a gentle voice.
“Ten years after I began my studies, I finally met a sorcerer who was my better. But rather than yield to him, knowing he could best me with little effort, I foolishly challenged him to a magic duel.” Ankoll looked up, as though he could see through the thick stone walls of the keep. “It was a beautiful day, that day we did battle. A lazy summer haze lay over the fields where we held our contest. The sun was a warm orb in the sky and I thought nothing he could do would touch me… I was wrong.”
“You lost.”
Ankoll laughed without mirth. “Lost? Yes, I wish it was only a loss, but it was so much more than that. Beltrin of the West, master sorcerer, not only bested me but wanted to make an example of me, to show that he did not suffer fools gladly, least of all young, wizardly fools. So he laid a curse on me. For half of a month, between full moon and new, I would retain the form of man. But, for the other half, between new moon and full,” he looked at Gamsin and his blue eyes were bleak, “I would roam the world as a dragon.”
She’d guessed what was coming, but Gamsin still drew a startled breath. Looking at Ankoll, the expression on his face, she did not doubt that every word out of his mouth was true. So he was the dragon of Ankoll, the dragon of myth.
“Beltrin left me most of my power, but not the ability to lift such a curse. I could still properly maintain this keep, continue my studies in the minor spells, manipulate objects and indulge in some small weather-changing, and I’ve been most assiduous in my learning.” For the first time that evening, his eyes glinted in amusement. “You may have noticed the snow, for example, on your way to the castle?”
“That was you?”
He inclined his head. “I didn’t know whether you were friend or foe, Gamsin Thief. Forgive me for taking such a liberty.”
But Gamsin’s mind was on other matters. To be condemned to such a half-life, once man then dragon, with no redemption for hundreds of years… It put the small troubles of her own life in perspective.
“Is there any way to lift the enchantment?” she asked.
Ankoll sobered immediately. “It’s no easy matter,” he said and his gaze bored into her. “Not only does it require an exceptional circumstance, but also exceptional qualities.”
Exceptional qualities? Why was he looking at her like that? Surely he didn’t expect her to do something? She was only Gamsin, former circus performer. Thief. Soiled woman, a voice in her head added. How could she help lift a dragon’s curse?
“I see.” Her voice was not promising.
Ankoll frowned. Clearly this was not the reaction he was hoping for, but Gamsin didn’t know what else he was expecting. Surely he didn’t think that she, not even noble-born, could help him?
“The first part to lifting the curse is difficult enough,” he persevered. “It requires a woman.”
A woman. At twenty years of age, Gamsin hardly thought of herself as a woman. In her mind, a woman was someone with a lush figure and long, flowing locks. She was more a girl child with her slender figure and short-cropped hair. But twice already, men had taken what she’d sought to keep closed and secret, so she supposed she qualified on that count.
She must have nodded because Ankoll continued.
“The second part… The second part is more…demanding. My female savior must feed me for the last three nights of my dragon incarnation then…then mate with me when I turn back to human form.”
A weighty silence filled the room.
“It seems a most complicated curse,” Gamsin finally said faintly.
“Beltrin was a complicated sorcerer. And more than a little malicious.”
Gamsin tried to speak, but her lips moved with no words emerging. Disconcerted, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Have there been no others in the centuries since you were cursed?” she asked.
“Although there have been many treasure hunters over the years, they’ve been mostly men,” he explained. “Occasionally, one would have an accompanying female but, after a day or so in my presence as a dragon, their bravery would desert them.”
“Is a dragon so fearsome then?” Her voice still lacked strength.
“A dragon… When I’m a dragon, I…lose sense of my humanity. I become the dragon, with its taste for flesh and gold. It is very hard to control.” He paused. “Truly, I can understand people choosing discretion over valour.”
“So your— I would have to feed you for three nights?” The words slipped out of her mouth unbidden and now that they had been uttered she couldn’t retract them although, in truth, she was only speaking what was in her heart.
She knew from the sudden lightening of his expression that he thought she had agreed to help him and suppressed a grimace. It was true that he had been kind and generous, but now their conversation was veering into dangerous ground regarding things of myth, such as sorcerers and dragons. Was he perhaps mad? She searched his face, but saw only a guileless expression, tender lips and eyes of brilliant blue.
His voice was steady and matter of fact. “During the day I will bring back animals. You will need to bleed them for me in time for my midnight meal.” He leaned forward, grasping her hand and holding it firmly between his. “You have to be there to watch me eat, each night for three nights.”
His flesh was warm and strong against hers. “And…and on the fourth?”
“There’s a bench at the top of the keep. You will need to disrobe and await me there.” He must have felt her trembling beneath his fingers, because he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I assure you, Gamsin, I’ll be gentle.”
Gamsin pulled herself free of his hold and wiped her hand on her plus fours. What had she said? What was she promising? Why had such words emerged from her throat? She saw the expression on his face—the hope, the happiness. What had she done?
“I will bid you goodnight then, Ankoll.” She had to get away to think before her words caused further trouble.
His voice followed her as she retreated. “I will come with food on the eleventh
night,” he said. “Until then, my keep is your keep.”
“Thank you,” she answered, her voice strangled, not turning to look at him. And she fled.
Chapter Four
Did the scant weeks of her life at Ankoll Keep really mean that much to her? So much that she was willing to go through with Ankoll’s scheme to release him from a curse centuries old?
Gamsin had time to mull over such thoughts for the next eleven days. Every afternoon, she would climb to the keep’s tower and look out over the countryside.
What should she do?
She couldn’t miss the buildings that comprised Ankoll Village, but shuddered when she thought about it. No, she couldn’t go back there, not even if her life depended on it.
But…looking farther, beyond the fields and verdant patches of forest, she knew there were other villages. Places where the natives were perhaps friendlier to strangers. There was enough food in the larder below to stock up for weeks and, even on foot, she would be assured of reaching another village before her provisions ran out.
She didn’t owe Ankoll any loyalty. True, he had rescued her from a blizzard but it was a blizzard he had sent in the first place. And just because somebody had extended hospitality did not mean that she was beholden to them till the end of her life. He had already lived this long between two states—hundreds and hundreds of years. Wasn’t he was capable of waiting longer?
Why did it have to be her?
Didn’t she have enough problems in her life? Maybe it didn’t compare to Ankoll’s in terms of number of years, but in terms of personal violation and self-esteem ripped away like it was made of spider web…
The feeding was going to be bad enough, but what about the…the mating?
As far as Gamsin was concerned, mating was a painful and dirty thing. If she focused, she thought she might be able to complete the feeding part of the ritual, but the mating?
