Jade thought hard. She needed to find something to make him feel useful until he was himself again. Slowly, a thought arose.
“Halfax. Go like this,” Jade said, twiddling the fingers on one hand.
After a moment, he imitated.
“No, with your bad paw.”
Again he attempted the motion. It was a pale imitation this time, his smallest claw failing to move at all.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“No,” he lied.
“Well, it looks like you've lost some . . .” she began, searching her memory for the correct word. “Dexterity. Remember when I was a little girl and you had to cut up my meat for me?”
“Yes,” he said.
Jade picked up the doe she'd brought back and dropped it in front of him.
“Separate it. And try to use your bad paw as much as possible,” she said.
Halfax glared at her briefly, then dragged the kill closer and went to work. As he did, Jade tended to the garden. She peeked briefly in his direction periodically to see him diligently at work. By the time she'd weeded and selected some ripe vegetables, he had managed to do a remarkably good job of butchering the beast.
“Good. Now reach inside and grab that big pot . . .”
Task by task, she walked Halfax through fetching wood from the pile, filling the pot from the stream, and placing the right meats and vegetables inside. Each step was of little effort for him. Seldom did he even need to stand. Many, though, required finer manipulation than he'd done in weeks. The fire was lit, and the food was cooked until the smell and tenderness was right. It took hours, but while it cooked and Halfax watched, Jade worked through the rest of the day's activities. Finally, she sampled the result. It was a trifle plain, and the vegetables were more mashed than cut, but it was actually quite good.
“There. It may not be the way you are accustomed to, but you just fetched me dinner,” she said.
“This is foolish,” he grumbled.
“Nonsense, it is a great help. And if you are going to mope around like a kicked puppy until you are healed up, I've got to find something for you to do. So this is your new job every day until you are back on your feet.”
#
In a dark room, somewhere far away, a tall, lean figure sat in deep thought. It was the elf, the mysterious stranger who had been haunting Jade's life for all of these years. The same puzzle had occupied his mind for all of that time.
“The lucky ones,” he murmured, “so very difficult to deal with.”
He tapped his foot absentmindedly and stroked his chin.
“Three bloodlines left that I know of . . . can't seem to eliminate those two. That luck turns things to their favor. I need to whittle that number down. Find some way to turn good luck for her into bad luck for the world. A scenario where the best case for her is still a win for me . . .”
Slowly, a grin came to his face, as devious and malicious as the thought that inspired it.
“That could work . . .”
#
In time, Halfax mostly recovered. The strength returned to his injured legs. He resumed hunting--though, as she had developed a fondness for it, Jade now frequently accompanied him. Likewise, though it was no longer strictly necessary, Halfax aided in preparing meals and other more human chores. Working with his "hands" was more challenging than he'd expected, revealing a weakness he'd not realized he'd had. Halfax was a creature who would never pass up a chance to correct a flaw.
More than two years passed. The girl and the dragon were mercifully left alone in that time. Jade's only contact with anyone aside from Halfax came in the form of trips to the nearest town. Now that she was just past eighteen years of age, appearing alone in town did not cause nearly the stir it had when she was a child. That was not to say that she went without notice, but now it was for an entirely new set of reasons.
Their undisturbed time was no doubt largely due to Jade's remarkable--indeed, supernatural--luck. Peace was hardly the only benefit that it had afforded her, though. Perhaps the purest form taken by her extraordinary good fortune was obvious to all who saw her. She had blossomed into a woman as effortlessly and flawlessly beautiful as anyone was likely to see. Long, raven hair was kept in a meticulous braid. The simple clothes she made with her own hands shamed the work of tailors the world over by simple virtue of the exquisite form upon which they were draped. Her visits were well remembered by the men of the village, and sourly dreaded by the women. Many the young buck had attempted to court her, but all were politely turned away. The more persistent and less mannerly among them quickly learned that though she might look delicate, a dragon did not raise this young woman to be timid.
She'd managed to find a way to pay Halfax back for the gold she'd had to spend as well. The skills she'd learned in her quest to heal him, it turned out, were quite sought after within the town. Potions and powders that she concocted to cure common maladies sold as quickly as she could make them. This was partially because it hadn't occurred to her to charge much more than they cost to make, so they were substantially cheaper than those sold by traveling merchants. Mostly, though, they sold because, unlike most of what the merchants sold, they actually worked. Pain was eased, infections subsided, rashes cleared. When she was in town she tended to the more troublesome ailments personally. Before long, she found herself making trips every few weeks whether she needed goods or not, simply to sell her wares and render her services.
Always, though, she returned home to the tower and to Halfax. Her budding skill as a healer had restored his health to beyond what it had been prior to his clash with the wizard, but some injuries lingered that neither time nor traditional medicine could cure. The slash left by the lightning was now a narrow white scar running from his snout to his tail, crossing both eye and wing on the right side. Both wings were still utterly ruined, tattered shreds on a framework of crooked bones. The eye had healed to a milky white, sightless orb.
It was this latter injury that had proven most difficult for Halfax to overcome, and it was this one Jade was most dedicated to curing. Alas, she could only work with what was available. Jade simply didn't have the resources to restore her friend. All that she could do was keep learning, keep searching, hope that in time the pieces would com together.
Chapter 8
“Hal! This way!” she called out.
The pair were making their way through a patch of forest near the mountains. A handful of the more useful herbs she used in her potions grew best in the thinner air and rockier soil, so she kept a small garden near the tree line. As they made their way back, something caught Jade's eye.
“What?” Halfax asked making his way to her side.
“Do you know what this is!?” she cried eagerly.
“No.”
“Aiur,” she said, “It is supposed to grow only on South Crescent!”
South Crescent was a continent half of a world away, and its residents kept very much to themselves. Jade had long ago abandoned any hope of attaining resources native to that land, yet here she found a plant more precious to her than gold. She crouched and carefully took a cutting.
“Come on! Back to the tower!” she urged, fairly leaping to his back.
“Is it important?” Halfax asked.
“Right now there is nothing that matters more to me! Quickly, quickly!”
Halfax sprinted to the east. In no time at all, they reached the tower. Jade dove from the dragon's back and scrambled inside. As Halfax heaved great breaths, recovering slowly from the run, she rummaged through mounds of books. It had been more than a year since she'd last read it, but still she remembered the very page she needed. How could she forget? It was precisely what she needed, yet just out of reach for so long.
She pulled the proper book from the pile and flipped it open. It was in a different tongue, one Halfax had taught her. He hadn't known the name of the language, only that it was from South Crescent. The words at the top of the page brought tears to her eyes. “Sight fro
m darkness . . .”
She gathered the necessary materials, cut a tiny sliver of the aiur leaf, and planted the rest in a small pot. A potent and foul-smelling brew was prepared, the precious leaf as the final ingredient. Decanting the finished concoction, she hurried outside.
“What was that all about?” Halfax muttered.
“Show me your eye,” she said, excitement spilling from her voice.
He angled his massive amber-gold eye closer to her.
“No, the bad one!”
Hesitantly, and with more than a little suspicion, he turned his head to reveal the useless white eye.
“Lay your head on the ground,” she said.
“Another remedy? This is foolish,” he said, turning his good eye to her again.
“What? Are you afraid it will hurt? A big strong dragon like you?”
“Don't try to manipulate me,” he said sternly.
“Fine. No tricks. Don't do it to prove you aren't afraid, do it because I asked you to.”
With the customary sigh, Halfax lowered his head to the ground. Jade quickly straddled his neck.
“Now try to hold still. This will probably hurt . . . a lot,” she said, lifting the eyelid gently and pouring in the mixture.
She could feel the beast's neck tense under her, but ever stoic, Halfax released only the merest grunt in response to what must have been a terribly painful experience.
“Now keep the eye closed,” she said, reaching into her cloak as quietly as possible to retrieve an item she knew would not be well-received.
She pulled an amulet from her pocket. It was brass, heavily tarnished, and bore a pale blue gem at its center. Attached to it was a fine chain of the same metal. When the final links of the chain tugged free, they made the tiniest clink.
“What is that sound?” Halfax rumbled, his good eye shooting open.
Jade placed the amulet over the treated eye and spoke three words in a very deliberate and carefully practiced manner. A sharp growl shook Halfax and his head shot up, taking Jade with it.
“Magic?” he barked. “What are you doing speaking words of magic!?”
“I've practiced, Hal. I know precisely what I am doing,” she assured, holding tight to her perch upon his neck and quietly repeating the words.
Halfax curled his neck and coiled his tail about Jade's middle, gently tugging her free.
“The treatment comes from the mixture. The magic words just make it permanent,” she defended, dangling from his tail.
“I don't care. You have not been trained, you have never heard those words spoken, and you do not know if you've said them correctly. What if--”
His voice trailed off as the offending eye slid open.
“Well?” she asked hopefully.
Halfax's tail loosened, dropping Jade to the ground. He swept his head around, sampling the sights of the tower as if for the first time. The brightness at the edge of the clearing, the drifting of bees among the garden . . . For the first time in years, he was seeing them as he was meant to.
“It worked didn't it? It worked!” she exclaimed.
She ran to him, tears streaming down her face, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Halfax placed a paw behind her back and pulled her closer.
“I've been waiting so long to make it up to you. And I swear, if it is in my power, I'll give you your wings back, too,” she said, releasing her embrace and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Now, the eye isn't going to be exactly how it was. According to the spell book, this was created by dwarfs to help them navigate caves. The eye shouldn't need any light at all to see, but it won't be able to see quite as far even in daylight.”
A sound in the bushes drew Halfax's attention. He released her and bolted toward it. Jade didn't need to be told why. The loss of an eye had been an enormous handicap to his hunting, one that it had taken him months to overcome. Now that he had some measure of his full vision back, no one could blame him if he was eager to put it to use. Tonight there would be a feast.
#
Far to the north, in an exquisite and well-kept room, a well-dressed man waited. His eyes turned to the door as it opened, a stately servant stepping through.
“You may have your audience with the prince now,” declared the steward.
“Thank you,” said the tall, all-too-familiar elf.
He stood and was led into a large, lavishly furnished parlor. Inside was an unimpressive figure in very impressive garb. His build was lean, trending toward lanky, and his expression was a pale imitation of authority. He was a man, perhaps twenty years old, who might be considered handsome if his features or posture could muster even an ounce of confidence. Instead, his bearing and presence spoke quietly of meekness, weakness, and insignificance.
“Oh, yes, and you are?” asked the prince.
“A concerned party,” said the stranger.
“Er. Is that all? Generally, the steward presents my visitors with their full title and point of business,” he said, brow furrowed slightly.
“Yes, well, I rather doubt your servant knew my name or my business. Were you to call him in here, in fact, I suspect he would be quite confused to find me in the room.”
“I . . . I don't understand.”
“That is hardly a surprise, Your Highness. You are Terrilius Croyden Lumineblade, latest in the impressively long, and astoundingly unbroken, Lumineblade dynasty. That should make you a towering figure in the hearts and minds of your people. Instead, you are known, you should be aware, as the frail whelp that might someday rule Vulcrest.”
“Now that simply isn't true, my people love--”
“Your people are ashamed of you. Your skill with a sword is barely average, your riding skill is virtually nonexistent, and you have the force and presence of a damp washing cloth. Your people dread the day your father will die to leave the kingdom in your hands, and there are no less than seven assorted lords and knights actively contesting your claim to the crown.”
“I don't have to take that from you!”
“No, you don't, and yet you are. The very fact my head is still on my shoulders says all that needs to be said about you. A stranger in the castle unannounced? Someone in your position should have called in the guards in a heartbeat. You lack any of the distinguishing qualities of a king, save birthright. In short, Your Highness, unless you are able to illustrate that you have the wisdom, the strength, and the will to lead, then this kingdom will never be yours.”
“I . . . I cannot . . .”
“Not to worry. Wisdom can be provided by advisers, and strength by armies. You need only prove that you have the will, and that is simple enough. Take swift, decisive action in the protection of your land and your people will see in you a leader.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Do you recall, some years ago, when a dark sorceress emerged from Tressor and rode a dragon creature into the heart of Ravenwood?”
“Of course. It was the day of that terrible storm. My father forbade any to venture far into Ravenwood because of it.”
“Well, Ravenwood is the finest hunting ground on the continent. Losing it is a tremendous hardship. And to react to a threat within your own borders by simply ignoring it? Is that truly the act of a leader?”
The prince's eyes drifted, seeming to focus on a point beyond the walls of the room.
“The wizard and her beast must be destroyed . . .” he said vaguely.
“Very wise idea, Your Highness. I happen to know that they have taken refuge in a wizard's tower deep within the forest.”
“I am quite aware of Ravenwood's tower.”
“Splendid. So you know where they are, and you know that she must be killed. Now, if you were to order me to, I believe I could be coerced into performing this deed personally.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I am the prince, and, as you say, I am the one with something to prove. I shall gather the best of our soldiers, I shall lead them into Ravenwood, and I shall
defeat the sorceress myself.”
“Will you, now? Then perhaps you would consider including me in your party. I--”
“No. I do not know who you are, sir, and though you may think me a fool, I am not so blind as to mistake a wolf for a sheep. You are after something. I thank you for stepping forward to inform me of my shortcomings. There are few willing to speak to royalty so frankly. And I thank you for inspiring me to take action for the benefit of my kingdom, but whatever plan you mean to hatch, you shall not. So leave me. I've much to prepare.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” replied the stranger.
He excused himself, walking out of the prince's chambers amid various looks of confusion and concern. Indeed, no one remembered allowing him in, but the fact that he was inside and seemed to fit so comfortably into the castle atmosphere led each to assume that he had been invited by another.
“Not the ideal outcome,” the stranger mused aloud to no one, “but it will do. The boy knows nothing of battle, and yet acts as though he is invincible, as though making the decision was the only challenge. One way or another, that will ensure at least one of the targets will be destroyed.”
#
Some days later, Halfax was stalking through the forest on his daily patrol. Years without being disturbed had not dulled the edge of his dedication. For a dragon, a few years was barely the blink of an eye. He looked and listened, but for the most part, he replied upon his nose. The forest was dense with scent. The crisp smell of fresh snow, the distant aroma of ripe vegetables in Jade's clearing, and the enticing scent of a deer all wafted on the same breeze from the west. The dragon had taken a few stealthy steps toward his would-be prey when a northern gust of wind carried with it a mixture of smells that set off alarms in his mind. Horses and men. Many of each. Halfax burst into a sprint, heading directly for the source of the wind.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 139
