Night of the Dragon

by Webb, Peggy

  "Can't you make her?"

  "I tried. She's a stubborn wench."

  "Ginny is too." Arthur threw up his hands. "Women! What's to become of Camelot?" He confronted Lydia again. "If you're really from the twentieth century, you know. What's to become of Camelot?"

  "Foul," Merlin yelled. "And I'm not talking about birds."

  "Well, what are you talking about? For once in your long life just get to the point."

  "Ah me." Merlin sighed. "The king has forgotten every bit of the manners I taught him. You need a refresher course, Wart."

  Dragon had listened politely to the wrangling between the king and his mentor, all the while trying to think of a way to gain Lydia's freedom.

  "Lydia will tell you the future in exchange for freedom," he said.

  "Fold," yelled Merlin. "You can't know, Arthur, you can't ask. It's against all the laws of nature."

  "But it seems a fair and reasonable exchange, her freedom for my future."

  "No!" Merlin waved his wand. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, rain began to pour in the throne room, drenching the king's robes and causing the cone- shaped hat to collapse over Archimedes.

  "Enough," Arthur said. "I get the point."

  The rains stopped, and a brilliant sun appeared over the top of the throne. Their clothes dried rapidly.

  "Can't I have just one little hint?" Arthur asked Merlin.

  "Not one."

  "Very well then, what are we to do?"

  "You're the king. Act like one." Smoke swirled around Merlin.

  "Merlin, come back here." From the midst of the clouds Archimedes whistled a snappy tune. Merlin's voice echoed around the room. "That's a song from the twentieth century. You can ask the name. That's all."

  "Do you know the name of that song, Lydia?"

  " 'Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.' "

  "That's the name of a song? Your twentieth century must be a strange place."

  "It would be as strange to you as Camelot is to me," she said.

  Arthur sank onto his throne, dejected. "Your strange songs, your strange possessions. You must be a time traveler. I know of no other explanation. . . . And you." He turned to Dragon. "You are now guilty of treason."

  "I would give my life for my king and my country, but I would also give my life for Lydia. She's a victim, not a criminal. She didn't ask to be transported to Camelot. Fate brought her here."

  "For what purpose?"

  "To find Dragon," Lydia said. "I know that now. My soul longed for a true mate, and fate made my deepest, most heartfelt wish come true."

  "I think both of you are guilty of only one thing, being in love, and if that's a crime, then I'm the world's biggest criminal." Arthur made a steeple of his fingers. "I can't snub my nose at the laws of the land, or all of England would soon be in disarray, but I can grant you a private trial, one without the rotten eggs." His smile was bittersweet. "Until then I'll have to hold both of you prisoner."

  Dragon shuddered at the thought of Lydia spending any more time in the cold, damp dungeon. At least he'd be with her this time to comfort her and to keep her warm.

  "One last thing," Arthur said. "Don't be surprised if you have a visitor. If you do, steal that damned bird of his, will you?" Suddenly a twinkle was back in his eye. "Now I'm off to see whether Lancelot took proper care of my bride."

  The king's steps echoed down the long hallway.

  "Dragon, what's going to happen to us?"

  Dragon had to give her hope, for without hope life was unbearable.

  "Without the crowd's influence, you have a chance of clemency and even freedom."

  "What about you?"

  "As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They were both in chains, but Arthur had given the order: "Until his trial proves otherwise Dragon is still a Knight of the Round Table. There will be no guards."

  Lydia was grateful for that small respite. It gave her a chance for some privacy with Dragon. It was strange how she felt, not resigned but calm. She wondered if terminally ill people felt the same way.

  Her instincts told her that she and Dragon had very little time left together, that the private trial would be no different from the public one. Time travelers and the people who harbored them were not to be tolerated in Camelot. It was the same in every society: People who were radically different were often shunned and even suspect.

  Although it was only shortly after midday, it was cold and damp in the dungeon. Lydia pulled Dragon's cloak closer in order to keep from shivering. She had more important things to do than sit around and feel wretched.

  "If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be?" she said.

  Dragon was thoughtful a moment. "There is a place I used to go as a child, a glade deep in the Old Forest. Ferns grow thick there and moss hangs down from the trees. It's always cool, and the sound of the nearby brook is musical and peaceful. I saw a unicorn there once. I was fourteen and getting ready to serve as squire to my mentor, Sir Rodney. I took his presence to be a good sign."

  "What did he look like . . . ? Not Sir Rodney. The unicorn."

  That brought a smile to his face, as Lydia had hoped it would.

  "I'll never forget. He was silvery blue with a mane that touched the ground. His horn was gold and shone like stars. But it was his eyes that I found the most amazing. They were gold, too, and I had the feeling that he could see my soul."

  "Did you touch him?"

  "No one has ever touched a unicorn. To touch him is to destroy his magic."

  Lydia pulled off her magic ring and offered it up in the palm of her hand. "Take this. Go there."

  "I won't leave you."

  "You can go there and then come back if you like."

  "No."

  "We can take turns going."

  Dragon took the ring, inspected its intricate design, the glowing eyes. "It's very much like my family crest."

  "I had noticed that."

  He slipped it onto her finger then held her closed fist tightly in his. "You can be free, Lydia. You go there, find the enchanted unicorn and then go home."

  "Home is not a place. Home is you."

  "I have an idea, both of you go."

  They turned, startled. Merlin was sitting on the stretching rack, his conical hat askew and his bird missing.

  "I thought you always came in with a puff of smoke," Lydia said.

  "I'm a necromancer. I can come in any way I please." He stood up, dusted off his robes, and raised his magic wand. "Glade and glimmer and glamour too ..."

  "Wait." Dragon caught his wrist "What are you doing?"

  "I'm sending you to the enchanted glade."

  "You have the power to do that?"

  Merlin sighed. "You knights sometimes give me ulcers. Of course, I have the power. I'm a necromancer, an ancient wizard, a magician, a warlock, a door lock. I'm anything I want to be."

  "If you have the power to send us to the enchanted glade, then use it to send us back to Lydia's century."

  "Ah me. How is it you can know so much and understand so little. I can't change your future. Only you can do that."

  Merlin lifted his wand once more. "Glade, glimmer, and glamour, too, higgledy, piggledy."

  "Wait." Dragon stayed his hand once more. "Once we are there, what will happen?"

  "A kiss, a song? Who knows? I won't be there. I have better things to do than chaperon two lovebirds. I have my own libido, thank you very much."

  "I'm not talking about conduct, I'm speaking about the magic of being whisked out of the dungeon. Are we then free to leave or will your magic prevent that?"

  "Do you want to see that glade or not? I don't have all day." Exasperated, Merlin turned to Lydia. "He's a royal pain in the butt. I don't know what you see in him."

  He lifted the wand once more and chanted the spell so fast, Lydia couldn't make out the rest of the words. Smoke swirled, lightning flashed, and she felt herself being flung into
space. She reached out blindly, and Dragon caught her in a tight embrace. As they spun through space she heard Merlin's voice, faint and distant.

  "Don't tarry too long. The Wart will be mad. And for goodness sake, don't tell him if you land in the stream."

  They didn't land in the stream; they landed on a blanket of moss, as soft as a feather bed. Green and lush and smelling of the rich earth and spring breezes. Dragon was on his feet immediately, pulling her up with him. He reached for his sword.

  "No matter what happens, stay close to me," he said.

  "What are we doing?"

  "We're doing what I should have done long ago. We're leaving Camelot."

  Lydia didn't dare contradict him. She'd been flung around space so much in the last few weeks that she'd learned how to accept what was happening to her and live in the moment. Some people lived their entire lifetimes and never learned to live in the moment. Her mother was a prime example. And look where that had gotten Rachel. No further than her own little cottage where she carefully preserved her past in a locked room.

  "We should move as quickly as possible. Are you too tired, Lydia?"

  "No. Wherever you go, I'll go."

  Dragon took a moment to get his bearings. "We'll go east," he said. "If we're lucky, we'll make it out of the forest by night. Then we'll be in open country. We'll travel under cover of darkness and sleep in the daytime."

  He held her so close, she could feel the beating of his heart; then he cupped her face, tipping it toward his. "Are you ready, Lydia?" She nodded. Dragon captured her lips in a long, heady kiss, and when he released her she knew that she was ready for anything, as long as she had this man, this remarkable soul mate she'd traveled through the centuries to find.

  The sound of the brook followed them as they raced from the glade. Birds startled into flight and a rabbit scurried out of their path. The forest was dense with brambles and undergrowth that caught at her skirts and tangled her feet

  "Where are my running shoes when I need them?"

  For the long journey ahead she needed more than running shoes; she needed stamina and courage and a large dose of hope. Lydia said a silent prayer of thanks for the years of training that had kept her physically fit. That was the easy part. Courage and hope were more difficult to sustain, particularly in the face of formidable odds. If she had been alone, she might have lost all courage, abandoned all hope. But she had Dragon. Not a crutch but a partner. Together they were a team.

  "Nothing can stop us now," she said.

  And then the unicorn proved her wrong. It appeared suddenly, silvery blue and shining, poised directly in their path, stunning in its beauty, mesmerizing in its power. Dragon and Lydia stood in awed silence.

  "Is he real or a dream?" she whispered, for speaking aloud seemed sacrilege in the presence of such mystery.

  "He's real." Dragon took her hand and tried to guide her in another direction, but the unicorn wheeled and blocked their way. Dragon veered south; the unicorn veered south. Dragon moved to the west; the unicorn planted himself firmly in the pathway to the west.

  "What's happening?" Lydia whispered.

  "He's blocking our escape."

  "Is there no way around?"

  "Only one." Dragon touched the hilt of his sword. "But all knights know the consequences of such an act. Destroying a unicorn unleashes such unspeakable evil on the slayer and all he loves that they pray to die."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "The unicorn will show us."

  The unicorn tossed his long mane. A breeze caught it, and it swirled around Lydia and Dragon like blue fire. A beam of sunlight pierced the dense forest, illuminating the golden horn. The light shone all around them, momentarily blinding, and then the halo of light became a single beam, pointing back to the enchanted glade.

  "Come, Lydia. There's our answer."

  Within moments they were back in the enchanted glade, the moss a velvety cushion beneath their feet.

  "We were not meant to run away. I'm sorry, Lydia."

  She touched his cheek, softly, tenderly. "How much time do we have, Dragon?"

  "Enough."

  He laid aside his sword, then pulled her down to the fragrant bed of moss and covered her with his cape. His hands were magic, his lips a miracle. There in the forest glade with the unicorn as witness, Dragon pledged his love to Lydia. Deeply sheathed, he claimed her, heart, mind, and soul.

  And Lydia knew the meaning of home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Lifting, whirling, floating. Time suspended. Sun merged with moon and stars. Wisps of smoke floated around them. Moss clung to Dragon's cloak, Lydia's skirt, her hair. She lifted her hand to brush it off and felt the heavy weight of chains. She looked at her surroundings as if she were coming out of a dream, the stretching rack, the stocks, the bed of spikes.

  Was it a dream? Had she only imagined her idyll in the enchanted glade? Was it nature's way of protecting her from the horrors of reality?

  Dragon touched her cheek, still flushed, tied the ribbons on her bodice, traced the beard burn along her chin.

  "I can never get enough of you, Lydia. Even if we live to be a hundred."

  There were footsteps in the corridor, dark, heavy sounds, the sounds of doom. They weren't likely to live to be a hundred. In fact, they weren't likely to live through the day.

  Lydia pressed her lips to his. "You are my soul, Dragon, my heart."

  The footsteps came closer. Four guards, two for Lydia and two for Dragon.

  "Treat her gently or I will kill you," Dragon said.

  None of the guards pointed out to Dragon that a man in chains was hardly a threat, even if he did carry a sword. The Knights of the Round Table were greatly respected in Camelot, and until Dragon was proven guilty, he still had the respect of everyone who worked in King Arthur's Court.

  All the knights were standing when they were brought into the room. Even King Arthur stood. Lydia was awestruck. She had only seen the Round Table in movies, and read about it in books. Nothing had prepared her for the actual thing. It was massive, stretching from one end of the great hallway to the other, and it glowed as if it were lit within by a holy light.

  Almost, she could forget why they were there. Almost, she could forget her fear.

  "Let the trial begin." Arthur sat down heavily. He had no taste for the task at hand. "Though the charge against Dragon is treason, I've appointed Lancelot to act in my stead. Proceed."

  Lancelot stood to face Dragon. "Have you willingly harbored this woman?"

  "Yes. Willingly."

  "Did you know her to be a time traveler?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you withhold this knowledge from the king?"

  "I withheld the knowledge from King Arthur."

  "What do you have to say in your defense?"

  "Lydia was wounded by a dragon when she first came to Camelot. My first duty was to relieve the suffering of another. I had to wait to seek the truth until she was physically able to withstand questioning. Lydia is who she claims to be, a time traveler from the twentieth century, an innocent woman whose journey through time and space was as unexpected and mysterious to her as it is to us."

  Dragon put his arm around Lydia and drew her to his side. "This woman is blameless and harmless. My only defense is love, but hers is innocence. I beg of you to set her free."

  Without the undercurrent of fear and anger from a restless audience, the knights paid undivided attention to the case Dragon set forth. Hope surged through Lydia as they bent their heads together to determine the verdict.

  o0o

  Lydia couldn't hear what was being said. She and Dragon had been escorted to the hallway just outside Camelot's vast hallway of justice. Occasionally there were shouts of anger, raised voices, then the ever calm tones of the king, Arthur pouring balm on wounded egos, dispensing wisdom in the midst of ignorance and fear.

  Dragon never let go of her, sometimes merely holding her hand, sometimes wrapping her close in his arms.


  "No matter how the verdict goes, always remember that I love you, Lydia."

  She held him fiercely. "I'm not going to lose you, Dragon. Do you hear that? We are innocent. That truth shone from you like a beacon. They won't dare say otherwise."

  Arthur gave the signal, and the guards escorted them back into the hall. His face, usually so expressive, told Lydia nothing. He merely nodded, and Lancelot stood to face them.

  "The Knights of the Round Table in the Court of King Arthur find Dragon guilty of treason."

  "No!" Lydia lunged toward Lancelot, but Dragon held her back.

  "Tomorrow at dawn he will be publicly stripped of his knighthood and burned at the stake."

  Lydia collapsed. When she came to, she was back in the dungeon, chains heavy around her legs and arms, lying in Dragon's lap.

  "They can't burn you, Dragon. I'm not going to lose you." She clutched the front of his tunic. "I can't. I won't."

  He smoothed her hair. "Remember this, Lydia: I will always be with you, even in death."

  "I don't want you dead. I want you alive." Lydia sat upright, rigid in her rage. "I want you to warm my bed and father my children. I want you to put venison on my table and clothes on my back. I want you to take out the garbage every Wednesday night."

  Dragon laughed for the first time in days! "That's one of the reasons I love you. Even in chains you can make me laugh."

  Lydia looked at her own chains, and sudden fear gripped her. If she were still in chains then she had been found guilty too.

  "What was my verdict?" Dragon cupped her face, then studied her as if he were memorizing every pore, every muscle, every bone. "Dragon . . . what is my fate?"

  "The same as mine." She struggled to get up, but he held her fast. She wanted to stalk off and hit something. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage. "You can save yourself." He touched the ring. "Use it."

  They'd already had this discussion . . . more than once. It was useless to argue with him. He would never budge from his position, but then neither would she. And on this issue, there was no compromise. It was truly a life-and-death matter.

  Lydia would choose death, for life would be meaningless without Dragon. Still, the urge to live was strong. If only there were a way that both could live.