AutumnQuest

by Terie Garrison

  I shuddered again. If this is what they did to those who innocently handled the dragon egg, what might they have done already to Breyard, whom they considered guilty? I leapt to my feet in a sudden panic. “Thank you,” I said, “but I really must go now.”

  Nevis looked surprised but didn’t seem inclined to argue. Just then, voices out in the corridor heralded the arrival of the healer. Nevis rushed out of the room. I started to follow, intending to leave, but a familiar voice drifted down the corridor.

  Master Larmstro! The academy’s most senior healer! He ran the infirmary in addition to his teaching duties, and his knowledge left even the most skilled masters in awe. I had a special interest in healing and took extra classes with him. It would be a disaster for him to find me here.

  I turned my back to the door and stood in front of the window. Surely he wouldn’t recognize my silhouette. There were footsteps behind me, and I held my breath.

  “No, Master,” Nevis said, “this room over here.”

  I breathed again as I felt Master Larmstro’s presence retreat. There it was again—that weird sensitivity to life vibrations. Oleeda had said that that was maejic. Well, I didn’t like it, and I wished it would go away.

  Once the door to the room across the corridor was safely closed, I drank another glassful of water, then found my own way out of the house.

  I slipped out the front gate and looked around. This was the last house along the road, which, luckily for me, went straight to the nearby woods. That was where Oleeda expected me to find the dragon, or, more precisely, the dragon to find me.

  It would start getting dark soon, and I wanted to be settled for the night in plenty of time. I hoisted my pack and headed for the woods at a quick pace.

  Everything seemed at peace as I walked. The breeze tousled my hair, and birds flew high overhead, heading south for the Winter. As I passed a boggy area, I heard the self-satisfied croaking of toads and smelled the damp earth. The outdoors sang to me, and I smiled back.

  There was maybe an hour of light left when I reached the edge of the woods. Once in the cool shade, it occurred to me that it would be dark even sooner under the trees. I searched for a likely spot to camp.

  Not far from the path, I found a tiny clearing covered with fallen leaves, which I bunched up to make my bed. Then I gathered more dead leaves and dry twigs, and a nearby fallen tree provided plenty of firewood. Before long, a campfire crackled merrily in the dusk.

  I made a supper of more bread and cheese, followed by two crisp, green apples. Kibee had included a small saucepan with my supplies, and I used it to heat water from my waterskin for herb tea. As the sun went down and the woods got dark in earnest, it also grew chilly. My cloak, which would double as a blanket, was in the bottom of my pack. When I shook it out to toss it across my shoulders, something fell to the ground. I picked up the unfamiliar packet in curiosity.

  It was a black leather pouch about six inches long and three inches square, tied securely with a brown rawhide thong. What did it contain? I untied the thong and looked inside, but there wasn’t enough light to see. I tipped the contents into my hand to find a miniature set of meditation candles, small enough for traveling and complete with a set of four tiny pairs of candlesticks: gold for Summer, silver for Autumn, copper for Winter, and crystal for Spring.

  That’s when it struck me that I hadn’t meditated all day. Consumed with my plans, I’d entirely neglected it. Today was the first day of health week, so I placed the pale green candles into the silver candlesticks, put everything else back in the pouch, and lit the candles.

  In the peace of my little clearing, in the woods on a comfortable Autumn evening, it was easy to move through the meditation routine, and when I’d finished, I lay down for the night.

  Of course, it might well have been the full day of unaccustomed activity and breathing the fresh, outdoor air. For whatever reason, it was easy to fall asleep.

  I opened an eye when the loud singing of birds woke me up. The sky was barely grey, and the air felt chillier than it had the night before. I decided to get my fire going again, then perhaps get a little more sleep. But when I tried to sit up, every single muscle I had seemed to scream in pain. I groaned aloud and lay back on my bed of leaves.

  An inventory of my body revealed that the worst off were my legs. Had to be the day before spent in the saddle, when I hadn’t ridden a horse in so long. Why hadn’t I thought of that? On the other hand, what difference would it have made if I had? Well, just lying there in the crisp air wouldn’t help.

  I pushed myself up, trying to ignore the pain and telling myself that I would feel better once I got moving. Moving gingerly, I gathered more firewood and restarted the fire. The last of the water in my waterskin filled the saucepan for tea. Finding a creek or stream would have to be one of my first tasks once the sun was up.

  Porridge would have been perfect for a morning like this, but I had to settle for toasting the last of my bread and eating it dry along with some dried meat and raisins.

  When I finished eating, I performed my morning meditation. At first, it was easy, but as the sun rose higher, the forest awoke and grew louder and louder until I finally had to give up. The wind gusted through the treetops, and the morning birdsong became downright raucous. I’d forgotten how noisy “uninhabited” woods could be.

  I put out the fire, packed my things, and went off in search of water. Then I followed the road farther into the woods. At first, I tried not to feel the vibrations of the life all around me. But Oleeda had said that it wasn’t wrong to sense these things, that it was indeed part of the fabric of my nature. Tentatively, I let myself open up as never before and accept this gift of awareness. Squirrels scampered up and down trees hiding the last nuts before Winter and scolding each other; woodpeckers drilled their holes, holding contests to see which could drill fastest; a bear far away yawned as it gorged, preparing for hibernation.

  As I rounded a sharp bend, I found a wild forest cat sitting in the middle of the road, for all the world as if it were waiting for me. I’d always had a special fondness for cats. Mama loved to tell the story of how the family housecat jumped into my crib and curled up along my side, just hours after I’d been born. The wildcat stood up, but continued to watch me. I squatted down to make myself look smaller and held out my hand. I made the comforting little clicking sound cats always seemed to love and thought how beautiful it looked, how soft its fur must be, what a good hunter it obviously was to look so sleek and healthy. To my delight, it walked slowly towards me and sniffed my outstretched hand. Evidently satisfied, it—or she as I soon perceived—rubbed her head against my fingers, and I stroked her cheek. She took a step nearer as I ran my hand through her thick pelt, which, while soft, was courser than I’d expected it to be. I couldn’t help smiling as I gave her a good head-scratching behind the ears. Then, just when I was sure I’d gained her confidence, she make a quick move and darted off into the trees.

  “Ah, well,” I said, then found that in the few moments I’d crouched there, my leg muscles, still sore from yesterday, had stiffened up. I leaned forward a little to push myself up with my hands, and that’s when I heard footsteps behind me. I tried to rise and whirl around, but it was too late.

  Something crashed down on my head and knocked me sprawling facedown.

  My dearest daughter~

  We have just received the terrible news about Breyard’s arrest. I am soon for Penwick, though I fear I cannot arrive in time.

  Before I leave, I must command you under no circumstances to leave Roylinn, not even to return home. There are dangers of which you know nothing, but there is no time to explain now. You must trust me and obey.

  I will write again when there is news from the capital. Mama sends her love, as do I. Remember—do not leave Roylinn.

  ~In haste and love,

  Papa

  Le
tter to Donavah received at Roylinn

  the day after she disappeared

  I lay there stunned, the breath knocked out of me, wanting—needing—to run but unable to move or even cry out.

  “Gotcha!” said a smooth male voice, followed by low-pitched laughter. A booted foot planted square in the small of my back prevented me from getting up. “Now, then, hands behind your back.” When I didn’t move fast enough, he reached down and grabbed them himself, then held both wrists in one huge hand while fumbling through his clothing and muttering under his breath. I struggled to pull out of his grasp, but between my awkward position and his strength, I couldn’t. “None of that,” he said, and he pulled my hands higher up and pressed down with his foot. I had only enough breath to let out a pitiful whimper of pain. By then, he’d apparently found what he was looking for, which I discovered was a length of rope that he used to tie my hands securely together behind my back.

  He hauled me to my feet by my collar, making me choke. I stood there silently, trying to keep my balance whilst the world spun around me and fighting down the panic that threatened to break out of me screaming. Blinking back the tears that started in my eyes, I tried to center myself the way I did when meditating. But that was impossible with him leering at me.

  He had dark, weathered skin and long, brown hair streaked with grey and pulled back into a neat queue. He wore the red and purple uniform of the Royal Guard, although it looked crumpled, as if he’d slept in it. His being a soldier would alone have terrified me under the circumstances. But the cruelty that glittered in his pale green eyes matched the dissonant vibration surrounding him. Somehow I instinctively knew that he was the sort of man who had joined the Guard so that he could indulge his savagery.

  He reached up to stroke my face, and I tried to back away from the elegant hand with perfect fingernails. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me closer to him. Pinned against his side, eyes shut tight and holding my breath, I endured his caress.

  “A bit of fun later, I see,” he said, and I took a deep breath to try to keep from fainting. “And if you’re a good girl, I might even share you with my mates.” Again, that deep, threatening chuckle. “But for now, you can just follow me.”

  To my horror, he pulled out more rope, tied it around my neck with a slipknot, and led me away like a dog through the woods. He didn’t pull the rope taut, but I knew that one quick jerk would be enough to kill me. And that would mean Breyard would die, too. Tears flowed down my cheeks.

  After about half an hour of hiking through the woods, he spoke again. “And you would be Donavah, wouldn’t you?”

  My stomach dropped. How could he know? I tried to think of a lie, but my brain was frozen. When he didn’t get an answer, he stopped. So did I. My pulse pounding in my temples, I braced myself, expecting him to strike me.

  Instead, a small but firm tug on the rope around my neck tightened the noose. Not so much that I couldn’t breathe, but enough to remind me who was in charge.

  “I asked if you are Donavah.” I just nodded. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

  He turned and started walking again, without loosening the knot. I followed along, of course, with no choice to do otherwise. My mind spun with unanswered questions. The only clear thought was that they had Breyard, and now they had me.

  Before long, thirst set in. I’d had only a cup of tea, and that was awhile ago. I wanted a drink of water, and yet I didn’t want to ask for anything. But the longer we walked, the thirstier I got. My mouth felt as dry as old parchment.

  On and on we went. It was difficult going since we weren’t on the path. When we passed through shrubby areas, the Guardsman let the branches slap me in the face after he passed through. Several times I stumbled over tree roots, each time growing more terrified that I would fall and strangle myself on the hideous leash. At first, I tried to wriggle my hands free, but the rope was too tight, the knots too secure. After an hour, my hands were completely numb.

  We finally reached a stream, and if I’d been able to, I would have cried out in relief. But he lashed me to a nearby tree, then drank his fill, looking up at me with cool, fresh water dripping off his face.

  “Please, water,” I finally managed to croak, deciding that staying alive was more important than maintaining my pride.

  He stood up and came over to me, leaning a hand against the tree and peering into my eyes. “My orders are to bring you in. They don’t specify ‘alive.’”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, though I tried to blink them away. They only made him laugh as he untied the rope from the tree and led me on.

  The afternoon was lost in a haze of thirst, pain, and fear. As we walked, he remained silent, and there was always the very real danger of my falling down as I grew weaker and weaker. My tongue seemed to swell in my mouth, threatening to choke me.

  Eventually, the light began to fail as evening arrived. This time, he let me sit down before tying the leash to a tree. My hands were numb, but that didn’t keep pain from shooting up my arms as they were crushed against the tree trunk.

  The Guardsman started a campfire and cooked a delicious smelling stew. He ate it greedily, watching me the whole time. He also drank from a skin, but I doubted it was water. Not that I cared by that time; any liquid at all would have been welcome.

  He stood up and came over to me. He untied the rope from the tree and pulled me to my feet. The noose tightened a little more. With the rope held taut, he ran a fingertip gently down my cheek. “Are you going to be a good girl and behave yourself?” I simply nodded, silently begging him to let me have some water, even just a mouthful. He pressed his body closer. If it had been possible, I would have shrunk away from his touch. A sense of utter helplessness washed over me. I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears from leaking out, as his hand slid down my sleeve. My heart beat faster, my mouth went drier—if that were possible—and I wished desperately that I could simply pass out.

  Then came the sound of something moving through the trees nearby.

  “Damn! My mates are here too early.”

  I opened my eyes as he let go of the rope and stepped away. The thrashing sound came closer, and the man opened his mouth, presumably to call to the others. But no sound came out, and the smile on his face turned into a look of absolute terror.

  I tried to look over my shoulder to see what could possibly frighten a man such as he, but I couldn’t see anything. He backed up a few steps, turned around, and raced away, crashing through the undergrowth and leaving me alone to face whatever it was that had terrified him.

  “Coward.” The word echoed inside my head, but hadn’t come from me. Must be my imagination, I thought. Now I stepped away from the tree and looked behind. What I saw made me gasp aloud and take an involuntary step backwards.

  At first I thought it was a trick of the shadows and the tail end of daylight. But, no, the lines were too well defined. A hallucination brought on by thirst and fear? No, one suffering a hallucination didn’t recognize it as such. In truth, a huge red dragon towered amongst the trees, flexing its wings and flicking its tongue in and out. Reared back on its hind legs, forelegs with their terrifyingly sharp talons slashing the air, it would, I felt sure, shred me to ribbons any moment now.

  “Is it you?” Once again, words not of my own inside my head.

  “Who is that?” I tried to speak aloud, but my parched mouth made it come out as a squeak.

  Then, as I watched, the dragon shrank down to the size of the hatchling I’d held only days before.

  “Are you . . . ?” I started to ask.

  “I am Xyla. It is you.” She walked forward, right up to me, and rubbed her head against my thigh. “I found you.” The note of pride in her tone was unmistakable.

  But my crushing personal need overwhelmed my sense of surprise and confusion. “Water,” I said. “Thirsty.”


  “Not far. Follow.” I stumbled after her. As we moved away from what was left of the campfire, it grew quite dark. Any moonlight there might have been didn’t penetrate the thick canopy of trees overhead.

  It was terrifying to walk in the dark, hands tied behind my back and the rope still tight around my neck. Fortunately, this area of the forest was relatively free of underbrush, so I didn’t have to worry too much about branches slapping me in the face. Still, I hoped that Xyla’s definition of “not far” came somewhat close to matching mine. I didn’t know how much more strength I had in reserve. Several times I lost her in the darkness under the trees, but she always seemed to sense my panic and came back to me immediately.

  Finally, there came the sound of water trickling through the woods nearby. There, just ahead, was a stream.

  I fell to my knees, crying out in pain when one landed on a sharp stone. That made me lose my balance and fall onto my left side. Well, the only way to get a drink was by putting my face directly into the water, so I just rolled onto my stomach and wormed forward across the damp earth until my mouth reached the cold, flowing water.

  The first swallow was surely the best thing I’d ever tasted in my whole life. I lay there, alternately gulping down the fresh water and resting with my head next to the stream. And trying not to think about what had happened. I must have fallen asleep, because I awoke to a sharp pain in my wrist.

  “What?” I gasped, new fear welling up inside me.

  “Only me. Trying to free you.”

  Sure enough, as the sleep cleared out of my mind, I could feel Xyla awkwardly trying to chew through the rope binding my hands. “I am afraid I hurt you.”