Dragon of the Prairie

by Sarah J. Stone

  But there was nothing. Any magic pings he put out weren't answered.

  “We'll find her,” Desmond said after a moment. “We've never failed at search and rescues.”

  “Not all of them were alive,” Nathaniel pointed out, and Desmond couldn't argue with that fact. Half the time with quests like this, their subjects were dead and cold.

  Sienna broke the mood with the rustle of a ration from her pack. Nathaniel reached over, opening the packet and handing it back to her without another word.

  “Whoever kidnapped her will be tried at the Intergalactic Court,” Nathaniel said after a few moments. “This is a case we will be on for a while.”

  “We've testified at the Intergalactic Court before,” Desmond said. “If that's what we have to do, then we will do it, even if it takes months.”

  “I should have been there,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head. “I should have sensed it, I should have felt it.”

  “We can't blame ourselves for the past,” Desmond answered. “You know that. We can only affect the future.”

  “Still, if I hadn't been distracted–”

  “Nathaniel!” Desmond snapped, knowing what was coming. Sienna's head shot up. “You will not say another word.”

  Nathaniel took the warning, and tried not to glare at Sienna. He knew he was being a child, but he didn't care. If he had been with Eliza, he could have protected her. She would still be with him; he was sure of it.

  The farm eventually came into view, and he took the ship off autopilot, bringing them down. He always had trouble with landings. Take off and cruising was easy, but landing, he felt, was like playing chess with his eyes closed. Even with all the advanced technology, he still felt like he had to guess about the ground under him.

  Of course, there was technology that did everything automatically; but he didn't trust it. Desmond and Sienna's lives were in his hands, and he'd rather it be a bumpy landing that a computer error that ended in disaster.

  “Here we are,” he said as the systems shut down. “Leave your rucksack here, Sienna.”

  Nathaniel twisted his wrist, which Desmond knew was his way of storing up magic. He didn't approve of it, the equivalent of a knight drawing his sword. But every witch had their own way of preparing for negotiations. Nathaniel's, it seemed, just involved being a warrior to the core. He was his own person now, Desmond tried to remember as he helped Sienna out. His choices were his own, and it was time to let him sink or swim.

  Chapter 13

  The farm was startlingly quiet. All around them, the birds chirped, and the bugs buzzed. It was so different from the city noise that they used. It was as if they had stepped into another time.

  There was no sign of life anywhere outside of the animals. Nathaniel spun around then moved toward a path on the left.

  “I think there's a farm house this way,” he said. “I saw it on the map.”

  “What's your strategy?” Desmond asked him. “Your magic stores are enough to blow that house to the ground.”

  “If that's what I have to do,” Nathaniel answered, stalking down the path. Sienna kept pace with him, looking around constantly.

  Suddenly, there was a voice to the left.

  “Ahoy!”

  They all spun around to see a purple alien crawling down the tree. He was dressed in blue overalls and had a piece of his fruit in his hand.

  He spoke rapidly to them in Jeffroian, and Sienna stepped forward. She looked back to her Maestros, and Desmond put his hand on her shoulder again.

  ‘Ask him if he's in charge,’ he thought, and Sienna turned back to the alien.

  ‘No,’ she said, after a moment. ‘He just works here. His boss is up at the farm house.’

  “Ask him about Eliza,” Nathaniel snapped, and Sienna understood enough to speak.

  ‘He hasn't seen the queen here,’ she thought. Nathaniel reached out to the alien's mind, but he didn't sense any lies from him. Normally, when someone was lying, their heart rate rose and their pupils dilated. This alien just looked confused.

  “Let's head toward the farm house then,” Nathaniel said at last. They nodded their thanks to the alien and started toward the farmhouse, constantly aware of their surroundings. Now that they were closer to the main path, they could see more fruit pickers hanging off the trees and throwing fruit into the baskets. Some of them smiled, and one of them juggled a few apples, making Sienna smile. He threw one at her, clearly meaning for her to eat it. She pulled back in time, and Nathaniel caught it.

  ‘I can?’ she thought and he shook his head.

  ‘Not nice to refuse,’ he thought briefly, as they came to the door of the farm house. It was red, with a blue door, and the paint looked as if it was as old as Nathaniel. Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel reached up and knocked on the door.

  There was no answer.

  Nathaniel pounded harder on the door, opening his fist and banging on it.

  “Hello! HELLO!” he cried through the door. There was still no answer.

  Just as Nathaniel was about to break it down, someone opened the door. It looked like an older version of the fruit picking aliens, with his antennas going grey and his mouth tired. He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Ask him if anyone else is here,’ Nathaniel thought rapidly at Sienna. ‘Tell him we have been commissioned by the queen to search all farms.’

  It frightened her how angry he was, and she tried to put a nice spin on things. The alien raised an eyebrow and then stepped back, his arms open.

  “Yes,” Sienna said, stepping forward. Nathaniel was surprised because he had expected more of a fight. The farmer seemed completely open to them searching.

  The farm house was three levels, and Desmond and Nathaniel split them up. Sienna stuck to Desmond's side as they inspected every nook and cranny. Desmond sent out magical pings for Eliza's signature, but there was nothing.

  It was rapidly becoming obvious that she wasn't there. Desmond knew that the chance of finding her on the first farm out of so many was unlikely. Even though he knew Nathaniel was aware of the fact, he expected him to search harder.

  He did not expect him to grab the alien by the coveralls and practically scream in his face.

  “Are you sure no one is here? Are you certain?”

  “Nathaniel!” Desmond cried, reaching out and pulling him back. Nathaniel didn't struggle, but he was clearly seething. “What has gotten into you?”

  “How do we know she's not here?” Nathaniel asked. “How do we know she isn't just well hidden? Magic can hide those things, Desmond. Magic can–”

  “She isn't here,” Desmond told him, and Nathaniel held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, he dropped his shoulders. Like a good witch, he turned back to the alien.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “Sienna, apologize to him for me.”

  “He…understands,” she said at last, judging by the look on the alien's face. “Just speak slowly.”

  “I'm sorry,” Nathaniel said again. “Long day.”

  The alien nodded his head and indicated that they should probably leave if they were ready. Nathaniel slouched out, his hands in his pocket.

  His head was whirling as he calculated his next move. “We can probably do nine more farms today before we lose the light,” Nathaniel said as they walked back to the ship. “I feel like we aren't doing all that we can.”

  “Nathaniel, I am open to doing more,” Desmond replied, “but you have to come up with what that is. I am out of ideas. This is how our search and rescue quests go. We go off our best theories and hope that we either find them or come up with a better theory.”

  “Call Mariah,” Nathaniel said at last. “See if there is news.”

  “She would call me if there was news,” Desmond assured him. “Give the next coordinates to Sienna, and we will be on our way.”

  Nathaniel heaved a giant sigh, but he obeyed. He handed her the map, pointing to the spot he had marked off. This was going to be a very long day, and they weren't even in the middle of it
.

  The next farm proved to be a failure, and the one after that as well. At each one, they found the same thing. Friendly fruit pickers, an old man farmer, and an empty farm house.

  By the time the sun set, Nathaniel was ready to crack in the door.

  “She's not at any of these,” he cried to Desmond as they made their way back to the ship. “I think we're on the wrong trail. Every moment that slips by, Desmond, we are losing our chance.”

  “I think we need to take the night, regroup, and clear our heads,” Desmond said as they climbed in. “You know as well as I do that a clouded head does no good.”

  “Argh!” Nathaniel practically slammed the steering wheel. Sienna jumped, leaning away from him. Desmond waited patiently for his rage to end.

  “There is an inn not too far from here,” he said when Nathaniel's breathing had slowed. “We can get a good night's rest, contact the palace, and see what the situation is.”

  “I don't think that…” Nathaniel started, then shook his head and put the ship in gear. “Forget it.”

  ‘Why would they take her?’ Sienna pushed her thoughts to Desmond, who shrugged. He spoke in Basic, but he made sure to keep contact with her, just in case.

  “There are many reasons why someone would take a queen,” he answered. “They could be angry at her and want her dead. But it is unlikely that Eliza is dead, seeing as they kidnapped her and did not assassinate her. More likely, they want something out of holding her. Money, freedom, any number of reasons.”

  “This has occurred?” she asked, and Desmond paused.

  “It's already…oh! Before?” he asked her, and she nodded. “No, I don't–”

  “Wait,” Nathaniel said, listening to the conversation. “This has happened before.”

  “What?” Desmond asked him. “You just thought to bring that to light?”

  “I didn't think of it before,” Nathaniel answered. “We weren't here; it was years ago. She only told me about it. Eliza had just taken the throne maybe a few weeks before, and she was taken from her very gardens. It's why the gardens got redesigned – to provide better vantage points.”

  “Who took her then?” Desmond asked.

  “It was a cousin who objected to her inheriting the throne,” Nathaniel replied. “But that cousin and that line is dead. Eliza made sure of it.”

  “Did she?” Desmond questioned. Nathaniel set his jaw.

  “We have to contact the palace,” he replied. “As soon as we get to the inn and can have a private room, I can reach out to them and see what they can trace. I know she had them killed, though.”

  “Her own family?” Desmond asked him. Nathaniel shrugged.

  “Eliza will do anything to protect her throne and her rule,” he said. “She's very…determined.” He said it with a smile, as it was one of the facts that he loved about her. She would do anything to protect what she loved. Despite the fact that her very attitude on such matters had kept them apart, he admired it. She was dedicated and committed to her cause, as he was to his.

  The only slip up came in their love for each other, and it was a mutual feeling.

  He found the inn nestled in the countryside easily enough. It was clearly meant for weary travelers who just wanted a good drink and a bed to sleep in. The quality wasn't the best, but the witches weren't supposed to be interested in quality. Their minimalist lifestyle meant that they could sleep outside and be comfortable if they needed to be.

  Inside, the bottom floor was a tavern, and it was busy. The innkeeper looked run off his feet and seemed a bit annoyed with new visitors. Desmond went to inquire about rooms, while Nathaniel snagged a table with Sienna. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, having clearly never been to such a place.

  There was noise everywhere – people laughing and talking, boisterous and also more than a little drunk. She watched the bottles of alcohol go by on trays, and the steaming hot food following. Desmond eventually settled beside them.

  “There will be rooms available upstairs in half an hour,” he said. “They won't be top quality, but they will do for privacy. You should order some food.” He turned to Nathaniel, guessing at his growling stomach. “You haven't eaten in an hour; that's not like you.”

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes as he grabbed at the menu. Sienna leaned forward on the bench, looking at a menu without understanding. Desmond scanned it quickly and then shook his head.

  “I don't think you should eat anything here, little one,” he said, after a moment. “The rations will have to do. Hmm?” he indicated her rucksack, and she nodded. To keep herself entertained, she pulled out a notebook from school, turning it to the page she was supposed to be working on.

  “Steak,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “I don't care what kind it is. Liquor, strong, double. Can you order for me? I'm going to call into the palace.”

  Desmond was surprised at Nathaniel's order of alcohol, but he said nothing to the effect, leaning back so his former Tiro could get by. Alcohol was a grey area for witches. It wasn't expressly forbidden, but it obviously could distract. Aside from a glass of wine at dinner, Desmond usually didn't indulge. But Nathaniel was twenty-five, and his energy had yet to cease. Desmond decided if he wanted a drink after a stressful day, there was no harm in it. Besides, with the sun set and the night pitch black, there was nothing more they could do tonight. For now, they could only hope that whoever had Eliza was treating her well.

  Chapter 14

  The food was surprisingly good for a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. It was hot, and full of flavor, which was more than Desmond had hoped for. He was watching his com-link half the time, as Mariah forwarded him messages from the palace. They hadn't thought of the dead family line, but Nathaniel's call had set them in motion. As soon as they tracked anyone possibly related down, they would let them know.

  Desmond had been worried about Mariah for no other reason than he was always protective of her. But to his delight, she actually seemed to be having a wonderful time being an interim queen. Her messages didn't show any stress, aside from the fact that she was worried about Sybil, who still hadn't checked in. That news set a darker cloud over Nathaniel, who had fallen into silence at the corner of the table.

  Determined to not lose the situation, Desmond turned to Sienna who had been filling out worksheets for school.

  “We need to contact the Jurors and do a quest report of our first day,” he said. “Do you want to do that?”

  She paused, taking his com-link from him. The screen for a quest report was already up, but it was in Basic. Her eyes scanned over it, and she bit her lip, deep in thought. She then looked to Desmond, confused.

  “Why now?” she asked. “Not…convenient? Distracting?”

  “Yes,” Desmond agreed. “The distractions make it hard. But if we do not keep them up-to-date on us, they will have no idea what happened if something went wrong. These reports must be sent in daily, no matter what the circumstances are. That's how they knew that Sybil was missing right away.”

  Sienna snuck a glance at Nathaniel who had ordered a second drink and was leaning against the wall behind his bench. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “That is true,” he managed, at last.

  “But we will not…go away,” she said, and Desmond smiled.

  “We can hope that. But we don't know for sure.”

  “No, we know,” she said. “We will come back and be martyrs.”

  Nathaniel choked on his drink at the point. “Sorry?” he asked. Desmond seemed equally confused.

  “We don't want to be martyrs, little one.”

  “Why not?” she asked quickly. “In school, they say, ‘You are martyrs.’”

  “We are…” Desmond searched his brain, but it was Nathaniel who figured it out.

  “Heroes. You are looking for the word ‘heroes,’ not martyrs.”

  This confused her. “What's the difference?”

  “Martyrs die for their cause,” Desmond said.

  “Heroes als
o die,” she said softly, and he sighed.

  “Yes, but not always,” he said. “And not today. Now, quest report.”

  She went to switch it to Jeffroian, but he shook his head.

  “In Basic, Sienna.”

  “Too long,” she said, but Desmond shook his head.

  “It will take as long as it takes.”

  “Or,” Nathaniel said, “you could just let her do it in Manorial and be done in five minutes, rather than dragging us through this.”

  “No,” Desmond replied, “she will not learn otherwise.”

  Nathaniel clearly had more to say on the matter, but he simply sighed, looking in the other direction. It did take about as long as he predicted. He was annoyed by her stumbling speech; by her lack of communication; by her constant questions. Pushing the thoughts to her through the bond didn't make it any easier, for the bond had no language and didn't help her with translation.

  By the end of the hour, he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him, he was so impatient. His own com-link had been silent, and his body was drooping.

  He had been sending out continuous magical pings for Eliza's life force since they left the palace, and it was taking its toll. Even sitting here in the tavern, he continued, hoping against hope that he would reach her.

  But it was always silence at the other end.

  Nathaniel had imagined many scenarios for his life with Eliza. Some of them were unrealistic, with them getting married and being a normal family. Some of them mirrored their real lives; she was a queen, and he was a warrior. Some of them involved him staying with the witches; others involved him joining her guard.

  He noted that none of the scenarios ever involved Eliza not being in his life. Since he met her as a teenager, his life had always involved her beautiful eyes, her smile, even the tone of her voice. He couldn't imagine a galaxy where Eliza wasn't in it.