“I’m disgusted with us!” Braddoc was ranting. “Eight days in the wilderness and not so much as a dragon’s whisker!” The dwarf’s face was turning as red as his beard. “Why, if I had my band of mercenaries, we’d have found Verdilith by now!”
“Wasn’t Flinn your tracker?” Jo asked, rubbing one knee and grunting. “Your sell-swords wouldn’t be helping us any, Braddoc, and you know it. Besides, mercenaries are too cowardly to track dragons.” Tensions were running high in the camp. Jo and Braddoc snapped at each other almost constantly, the cantankerous Karleah pounced on anyone with no provocation, and even the shy Dayin had learned how to retort. Only Flinn has remained calm and collected, a far cry from the man I once knew, Jo thought. How can he be so… so stoic? For five days we’ve been in these hills, searching for more evidence of the dragon’s passage. I’m beginning to think Flinn must have been mistaken about seeing signs of the dragon.
For three days after leaving the castle, the knight had kept the five of them on the move until Flinn spotted evidence of the dragon’s passage. He instructed the others to set up camp in a sheltered location. Flinn said that from here they could make forays into the surrounding Wulfholdes. For the last five days, Flinn had sent Jo and Braddoc off into the hills together with strict instructions to return to camp the moment they found anything. Sometimes Flinn sent Dayin with them, and once Flinn took the boy with him. Most often, however, the knight left at sunrise to roam the hills alone in search of Verdilith and then returned at sunset. He was always as exhausted and hungry as the rest of them, but his spirit had never wavered. Jo admired his resolve; despite the grueling, tedious work, Flinn’s spirit was thriving. He was a knight of the Order of the Three Suns, doing his duty to avenge the villagers’ deaths and prevent further destruction at the dragon’s hand. Jo, too, felt proud of her work, but the daily grind was beginning to wear on her. Braddoc, in particular, tested her nerves. But she wouldn’t give in, not while she was a squire in the Order of the Three Suns.
Jo gratefully accepted the plate of stew and bread Karleah handed her. She ate a quick mouthful, then nudged the dwarf with the tip of her cold, dirty boot. “Mercenaries don’t ever hunt dragons, Braddoc, so how can you say you wish we had any here? If we were after treasure, that would be one thing, but—”
“Oh, cut it out, Johauna!” the dwarf said irritably. “It was only a suggestion, that’s all. Thank you,” he said to Karleah when she handed him a plate, who mumbled her response. Braddoc turned back to Jo. “I don’t understand why Flinn has us combing these hills. We’ve been over them five times now, and there’s nothing out there!”
“Flinn thinks there is,” Jo said before she bit into her bread. She caught Dayin’s eye and ruffled his hair. The boy smiled back, his eyes bright. Jo swore he had grown during the last week, though that seemed unlikely with Karleah’s uninspired cooking.
“Have you seen any sign of the dragon? Have I?” Braddoc asked, affronted. “Where does Flinn go? What does he hope to find? Why aren’t we searching a different part of the Wulfholdes?”
“ You have questions, Braddoc?” a voice interrupted from the dark just beyond the light of the campfire. Flinn came into view, then sank onto the log beside Jo. He smiled at her and accepted a plate from Karleah.
“Humph, does he have questions!” Karleah snorted. “Nothing but!” The old woman laid a horse blanket on the packed snow and sat next to Dayin and Braddoc.
“Did you see anything today, Flinn?” Jo asked, her good humor restored as always when Flinn joined the group. “Braddoc and I searched the entire northern quarter again like you asked, but saw nothing. We don’t understand—”
“Just what it is we’re supposed to find, Flinn!” Braddoc threw out his hands. “I know I used to be a mercenary and that I used to rough it now and then, but this is ridiculous! It’s been eight days, and we’ve seen no sign of the dragon or sign of civilization! When I was a mercenary, at least there were towns—”
Flinn held up his hand and broke into the dwarf’s tirade. “I know, Braddoc, I know. Believe me, we could all use a rest, a soft bed, and—for some of us—a decent shave.” Flinn rubbed his hairy chin and laughed ruefully. “But we’ve supplies enough to last another week, and I’m going to stay out here at least that long.” The knight shook his head. “As always, you’re welcome to go back. I won’t begrudge you your right to a bath.”
Braddoc rumbled beneath his breath and then shook his head. “Nay, Flinn, I won’t do that. I’m in this with you, all the way.”
Flinn quickly bit into his food before it grew cold and then gestured with his bread toward Jo and Braddoc. “Like you, I found nothing. I can’t tell you why, but I’m convinced Verdilith is around here somewhere. I can feel his presence, as if the wyrm were watching us.”
“Through the crystals?” Jo asked.
“Does that matter?” Karleah interrupted. “If Verdilith is here, he knows we are, too. So, use a crystal to locate the dragon’s lair. You don’t need to hide from him anymore. Find his lair and then catch him there.” The others turned to stare at her and the old woman cackled. “Good idea, yes? Knew there was some reason I came along.”
“Why didn’t you suggest that days ago, old woman?”
Braddoc snapped.
“Keep a civil tongue, dwarf, or you won’t want to bathe!” The wizardess glowered. “I reveal my own counsel at my own time.” Karleah looked suddenly chagrined and added, “Besides, I only now thought of it.”
“Jo?” Flinn asked, looking at his squire.
Jo returned his look, flattered at his attention. He’d been asking her opinion lately as a way of instructing her. He always applauded her when her suggestions were sound, and he gently pointed out errors when her judgment was not. So now she asked herself the questions the knight had taught her: What would viewing through a crystal accomplish? Would it gain more good than harm? Would it harm others? Yes, Jo thought, but the dragon was certain to do harm regardless of the action they took.
The squire nodded her head and said, “Yes, I think we should do it. We have nothing much to lose, and quite a lot to gain.”
Flinn nodded and turned to the wizardess. “An abelaat stone, then, Karleah?” At her nod, he pulled one from his pouch and handed it to her. “You do the honors, Karleah. We’ll concentrate on Verdilith’s lair to focus the stone.”
Karleah’s skinny arms emerged from her shapeless robe, one hand holding a tiny brass brazier. She took an ember from the fire and put it in the brazier, then added the abelaat crystal. Finally, she sprinkled on crushed quartz and muttered something under her breath. She gestured for everyone to gather round the brazier, her bony fingers seeming to be twice as long as everyone else’s.
“Concentrate on the location, not the lair itself,” Karleah said. “You’ve already seen the inside of the lair, so think about the outside instead. Remember: silence. We don’t want the dragon to know where we are.”
Jo and the others leaned closer. She tried to concentrate on what Karleah asked for, though her weary mind wandered. Then, as before, an image slowly appeared, enlarged by Karleah’s magicks. Jo held her breath and leaned closer to the tiny brazier.
A rounded slope came into view, and behind it the interminable and rocky Wulfholdes. A single stunted pine stood to the left. The scene was virtually identical to every hill Jo had seen during the last five days.
“Is that it?” she whispered, before she could stop herself. The crystal shattered. She looked from Flinn to Karleah and shook her head. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t worry about it, Jo,” Flinn said and touched her arm. “We all saw enough.”
“Enough to know that finding that particular hill is nigh impossible!” Braddoc snapped. He turned irately on the wizardess. “Wonderful idea! Are you sure you had the right place?”
Dayin threw his arms around Karleah. “Turn him into a butterfly and let him freeze here in the cold!” he yelled. The boy flashed an angry look at Br
addoc; the dwarf shrugged and turned away.
“Enough,” said Flinn, nearly shouting. The knight’s smile was testy. “I’m convinced the vision was a true one. Now, has anyone seen that hill? It has a rounded curve to it, fairly unusual for the Wulfholdes, and there’s a stunted pine to the side. Anyone seen it?”
“Are you kidding, Flinn?” Braddoc bellowed. The dwarf jumped to his feet. “We’ve been up and down so many rounded hills with stunted pines the last five days I’d be surprised if we hadn’t seen it!” He crossed his arms and sunk his chin into his beard.
“I’m afraid Braddoc’s right, Flinn,” Jo added more calmly.
“We’ve seen so many hills that I certainly don’t recall seeing that one in particular. But at least we know what it looks like when we go out tomorrow.” She pointed to Dayin and Flinn. “What of you? Have either of you seen the hill?”
Dayin simply shook his head, but Flinn lowered his head and picked at a loose tuft of leather on his boot’s heel before replying. Is he gritting his teeth? Jo wondered as the knight’s cheek muscle rippled. “I may have seen the hill,” he said, still not looking at Johauna, “but like you I don’t remember it.” Flinn stood suddenly and looked at the people around the campfire. “I think it’s time to sleep. We’ve a long day again tomorrow. I’ll take watch first. Jo, I’ll wake you about midnight.” Before Jo could question him, he had turned and left the camp.
“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do!” Braddoc sputtered in the silence that followed. He shook his head and turned to Dayin. “Come along, son. Let’s leave the womenfolk to their duties.” He stood and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Karleah?” Whether Dayin was asking permission to leave or to stay and help, Jo didn’t know.
Karleah patted Dayin’s head with her bony hand and said, “You run along, boy. I’ll take care of things here. I want to talk to Johauna, anyway.” Dayin nodded and then went off to the tent he shared with Braddoc and Flinn. Jo and Karleah had the smaller tent to themselves.
Jo began gathering the dishes together. “You want to talk about something?” she asked casually.
The wizardess put out her old hand and touched Johauna’s young one. Her tiny dark eyes regarded Jo even more intently than usual, and the squire felt a little chill run down her spine. Her initial impression of crazy old Karleah Kunzay returned—the impression that she might be dangerous. Still, Jo trusted the old woman, despite her odd ways. “I want to tell you that the moon is full, and that I’m going to spend the night meeting with an old friend,” Karleah said.
“Old friend?” Jo asked, confused.
As if on cue, the loan, mournful sound of a wolf howl rose up in the distant forest. Karleah nodded and said dreamily, “That’s him. It’s been a long time. Don’t be afraid, dear. I won’t hurt you.” Jo watched in shocked fascination as dark, bristly fur began sprouting from the wizardess’ face and hands. “One more thing,” Karleah said huskily, her voice deepening. “Tonight might be the night for… truth.” She jerked her head toward the direction Flinn had taken. “He needs you, girl.” The last words were contorted almost beyond human speech as Karleah’s head lengthened into a wolfs muzzle. Her reshaping hands fastened on the gray robes she wore and pulled them off.
Jo nodded slowly at the old woman, her eyes held fast by Karleah’s transformation. Jo felt no fear, only an unexpected sense of wonder as a huge, hairy gray wolf slowly emerged before her. The creature sniffed Jo’s outstretched hand, gazing steadily at the young woman. Then the animal bounded silently into the snow-covered hills. Jo sighed, wishing she could transform herself into a wolf and roam the countryside on such a cold, beautiful night.
Without a word, the squire stood and began walking toward the animals. Jo and Braddoc had staked the horse, mule, and ponies to one side of the camp, with Ariac a little farther away. Flinn always started his watches by checking on the animals, and Jo was sure she would find him there. Beyond the light of the campfire, moonlight guided Jo’s steps. She spotted Flinn standing next to the horse Carsig.
“Hello,” Jo said simply, stepping up beside the knight. Flinn released the horse’s hoof he’d been holding and straightened. “Anything wrong with Carsig?” Jo asked.
Flinn shook his head. “No, just checking.” In the moonlight his wry grimace was eerie. “You know me, check and double-check.”
“It’s the only way to be prepared,” Jo responded. “You taught me that.” She smiled up at the tall knight. Then, slowly, Jo reached out and took his hand in hers. She covered his larger hand with her two smaller ones. Again she smiled up at him.
Flinn brought her hands to his lips and kissed each, once. “Maybe it is time to talk, Jo. Maybe tonight is the night, and saving this for another time isn’t right.”
“Braddoc and Dayin are in their tent,” Jo said, “and Karleah’s gone off for the evening. The fire’s still going. Shall we talk there?”
Flinn nodded, then put his arm about her shoulders as they walked back to the fire in silence. Once there, the knight retrieved a fur from Jo’s tent and wrapped it around them as they sat on the log. Overhead, the white moon and a thousand stars shone. This is a moment I am going to remember forever, Jo thought suddenly. The squire added another branch to the fire, then looked at Flinn.
“I’m guessing you have a lot of things to say, Flinn,” Johauna said softly, her voice trembling.
Flinn took her hand and stroked it for several long moments, staring at its paleness. Then he began haltingly, “All my life I have struggled to uphold the ideals of truth and goodness, of honor and integrity.” He paused to look at Jo, his expression intent. “All my life I have believed in the sanctity of rightness.” The words stumbled from his lips, as if they were long unfamiliar to him. Jo guessed he had seldom put voice to the ideals he held dear. Flinn did so now, and as he spoke, conviction grew in his voice.
“I told myself I had always led a life that was true to my principles—even when I lived as a mercenary. I even told myself that although I had fallen in the eyes of my wife and fellow knights, I still remained true to my ideals.” Flinn paused and gripped Jo’s hand more firmly. His voice was low and firm when he continued. “For a while, at least, I was wrong. You see, I lied to myself. The old ideals were simply that: old ideals—not something needed by me. I never thought of them, and I certainly didn’t follow them. That was a wrong I committed, and I have righted that one. But… there is another wrong I have made that I have yet to right.” Flinn released her hand and put his face in his hands.
Jo touched the crook of his arm and leaned against him. “Go on,” she whispered.
“Oh, Jo,” Flinn cried suddenly and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t you see? I hid my heart from you. That was the second wrong I committed.” For long moments Flinn was silent, and Jo could hear the pounding of his heart beneath the heavy clothing he wore. “You scared me, Jo. You awoke all those old impulses of goodness and nobility—impulses that showed what a lie I had been living the last seven years. You tore through my life like a summer storm through a forest. You invaded my thoughts and challenged my very existence, the very meaning of my life.
“Jo, I lived a life of mindless rote, and I was happy. At least I thought I was happy. I tended my trap lines, I skinned my pelts, I brought them to town twice a year. I was content; I was safe from prying eyes, and I was safe from emotions. But you showed me there was still goodness within me if I would only acknowledge it, if I would only let myself hope. With you I could no longer be the man I had become. With you I was forced to see that my flame of honor still burned. You showed me I was still a good man.” Flinn stopped again and swallowed hard, then continued.
“Jo, you also made me see how far I had fallen from the ideals and beliefs of a knight of Penhaligon.” Flinn stopped again abruptly, and Jo caught the sheen of tears in his eyes. He said huskily, “You will never know how much your image of me meant to me. I cursed you for that image—and sometimes I still do.” Flinn turned his he
ad away, and Jo felt as though someone had stolen her breath.
“Oh, Flinn,” the words escaped her lips. Her voice caught short as she spoke his name.
Flinn wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at the young woman. “You see, I care for you, Johauna Menhir, and deeply. But I shouldn’t and I can’t because of what I am to you: a hero.”
“Oh, Flinn,” Jo repeated softly. “Don’t you understand? I didn’t just worship you. I loved you, too. And I still do.” The knight’s lips moved, but he said nothing. Jo did the only thing she could. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “I love you,” she said slowly, “but don’t ask me to stop worshiping you, for that came first and will always be there.”
Closing his eyes, Flinn took her in his arms.
* * *
Fain Flinn awoke at midnight inside Jo’s tent, his eyes opening and his senses instantly alert. He was supposed to be out on watch, and by rights Jo should be taking over. But this was the night for him to leave, and he wouldn’t awaken Jo. Carefully he rolled onto his side, glad that sometime in the night she had moved from his arms.
The moon lit up Jo’s outline quite well under the tarpaulin. She was sleeping on her side, her back to him, huddled beneath the furs. He wanted to reach out and touch the silken hair that had come unbound earlier in their passion, but he knew he didn’t dare. If he did, he might never leave.
Flinn sighed. Oh, Jo, he thought, I do love you. I wish I could give you more than this one night of love, but I can’t. You have put me on the path to honor and integrity. It’s time I fulfill my destiny. I know where Verdilith is now, and if I don’t go and kill him soon, he will attack us—and you will die, my love. So far the dragon’s held off because he’s afraid of attacking all five of us. But now, now the time has come for me to leave you. I only hope that Karleah is wrong in her prophecy.
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