My leg was a terrible mess and quite bruised but, as Tanris had assured, not broken. And he had found the salve I filched from the healer at the temple. My pants were ruined, my coat needed mending. While I’d slept, Girl had tended to the coat and Tanris managed to make the saddle into something actually useful for holding packs, and we now had four horses, for he’d managed to come away from the village with his steed, one of the pack horses (which Girl now rode,) and my own Horse. Glad as I was to see the mare again, it would be some time before I could mount her without help.
Tanris was moody. He didn’t like the look of my leg, didn’t like Too, didn’t like Too’s name (though it made Girl smile), didn’t like that I’d stolen Too—even if stealing had only required accepting his presence—didn’t like the rain (who did?), didn’t comment on the extra supplies I’d furnished, didn’t like me carrying Egg… When it came time to leave Tanris jutted out his bullish jaw, pressed his lips together tightly, and summarily took possession of the egg, stuffing it into one of his saddle bags.
I seethed, but what could I do? I wouldn’t survive a physical altercation with him—not then, and maybe not ever. To my surprise, Girl intervened. She marched right up to Tanris, looked him in the eye with a severely scathing expression, then simply took Egg out of the bag. While he stood there dumfounded, she brought Egg and handed it up to me where I sat aboard Horse. To have it in my possession again was a relief I could not explain, however short-lived. I gently prodded the leathery surface, but nothing happened. It did not feel warm any more, and it did not push back. Only the gods knew what it had suffered in the terrible tumble I’d taken from Too’s back.
“Hey,” I whispered to it. “You still with me?”
Tanris stared, but he did a lot of that and I was fairly immune by now.
Girl gave me a worried look. I gave one back. Then I poked Egg gently again. Still nothing. “I think it’s dead,” I frowned.
“So?” Tanris swung up into his saddle. “All we have to do is deliver it to the baron. He didn’t specify what shape it had to be in, and I don’t know how you can tell, anyway.”
I began to explain, then changed my mind. He didn’t believe anything I’d told him thus far, and arguing now would serve no purpose. I put Egg under my tunic again and belted him in.
Two days passed before Egg moved again. Two entire days in which I kept the thing warm and safe against me, refusing to give up possession. The bump against my belly was so slight that it took me several of Horse’s patient steps to realize I’d actually felt it. “Egg?” I whispered hopefully. I put one hand beneath my coat to rub the thing tentatively, then gave it a little push. It pushed back.
— 25 —
Scrambled Plans
The journey to the river took forever, but then the entire trip bore a striking resemblance to a never-ending nightmare. I was sick and growing daily sicker. Two drops a day I took of Duzayan’s antidote, but it did not ease the nausea or to stop the painful spasming that had begun shortly after I’d awoken in the care of Tanris and Girl. They became greater and more painful, and twice made me lose what little contents my stomach held. Tanris asked if I wanted to stop and rest, but I told him no and took two more drops of the medicine.
Tanris took the egg. For safe keeping, he said, but I knew he was just waiting for the opportunity to leave me. Maybe the threat helped me to keep up with the two of them longer, but there came a day when I opened my eyes upon a shadow-shrouded room smelling of dirt and grass. Uneven bars of faint light marked the outer boundaries,.
“—shouldn’t be more than two or three days,” Tanris was saying as he buckled saddle bags and slung them over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
Both pairs of eyes turned to me. Girl looked relieved and came to kneel beside me, rustling my bed of hay.
Tanris frowned. “To find help.”
“Help? For who? From who?”
“You’re sick, Crow,” he said bluntly.
I wanted to protest, but I knew perfectly well that it was true. “I know. We need to keep moving, we’re losing time.”
“How long have you known?”
I shrugged. “Since I was in the temple caves.” Irritably, I pushed myself up and Girl reached out to steady me. To my horror, I needed it. I had all the fortitude of a newborn calf.
“What happened in the caves?”
“I went up. I got the egg. I dodged the dragon. I came back down.”
Tanris moved fast. Dumping his bags to the ground, he was on one knee next to me with his fist wound in my shirt faster than I could blink. “What happened in the caves, Crow?” he demanded, hauling me upward until his nose nearly touched mine.
“Nothing,” I lied, lifting my chin and twisting my face away. I braced my hands to either side, for all the leverage it gave me against someone his size.
He gave me a shake, and Girl gasped, tugging on his arm. She had as much affect on him as the rain had on the dragon. “The truth!” he demanded in a low growl.
“You don’t like my truth.” My voice was just as hard and cold as his. “Let go.”
“Try me.”
I glared at him. He could beat me if he wanted to, and perhaps he did. I didn’t really want to test his patience. “Fine. Let go.”
His mouth curled into a sneer I hadn’t seen in a long time, and he held me up for a moment, making sure, I assumed, that I understood who was in charge. Then he let go with a little shove and rested his forearm over his up-drawn knee. I pulled my shirt straight and resisted the urge to glare, spit, or otherwise make my life any more difficult, including fabricating stories about what I’d done. I gave him the bare bones of the entire tale from the moment I’d left him and Girl sleeping and only left out all the chatting I’d done with the Ancestors. He listened silently, even through the account of my battle with the wizards, though it made his mouth tighten and his eyes take on the telltale expression of skepticism. Girl, bless her, watched with steadily widening eyes and a hand pressed over her mouth.
“That’s it?” he asked when I had finished.
I regarded him with patent disgust.
“The truth,” he repeated.
Hadn’t I predicted as much? He didn’t believe me, nobody would. Except Girl. Tears glimmered in her eyes when she looked at me. “Are we done now?” I asked. “Can we go?” I suited my actions to my words. Or I meant to, anyway. The room—barn, it was a barn—wobbled horribly when I got to my feet and my stomach churned a chaotic protest. Tanris stood as I did, his hands going to my shoulders. I tried to brush him off, but he wouldn’t let me.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”
“I’m not in any condition to stay, either! It’d be so much easier for you if I just gave up, wouldn’t it?” My attempt to rein in my temper disintegrated. “If I would just lie down and die like a good little victim!”
The tears Girl had been holding back flowed. Worry, fear and confusion came from her in waves threatening to mingle with my own and overwhelm me.
Tanris remained sober. Angry. “Do you want to know the truth?” he asked, stabbing me in the chest with his finger. And then, thank the gods of personal space, he moved back a step.
“Oh, the truth.” I waved one hand in the air. “By all means, let us hear the truth.”
He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I don’t want you to die. You’re the one man that hates the baron as much as I do, maybe even more. I want you to help me get my wife back—”
“Which you can do oh-so-easily with me out of the way,” I pointed out bitterly.
“—and then I want you to help me completely and utterly destroy him.”
Well, that caught me off guard.
“And then you can die, if you’re so determined.”
My eyes narrowed. “What gives you the impression I can help?”
“I know you. I didn’t chase you up and down the length of the empire without learning anything.” His next wor
ds had to cost him dearly. “You’re smart, you don’t think like other men do, you’re very… talented.”
I wanted to stretch the moment out, take the time to memorize the expression on his face while I enjoyed what should have been a victorious moment. Instead, my muscles convulsed hard enough to double me in half. Tanris caught me and eased me back to the makeshift bed, his face a mask of concern. I ground my teeth against the pain and prayed for it to pass.
“You’re too stupid and stubborn to die now, Crow. Stay with me.”
“I th-th-thought you just said I was smart.”
“You’re going to hold that over my head forever, aren’t you?”
If I lived. “Y-you know it.”
Tanris knelt beside me, patiently rubbing my back until the seizing died down into violent shivering. “You’re going to make it,” he told me.
“You b-believe me about Melly and—and whatever his name was?”
He pulled the blanket back up around my shoulders. “I believe you. Just going to have to call you Wizard Bane now.”
I barked a sharp laugh. “You don’t, either.”
“There’s a sizable town not too far from here,” he said, pretending he wasn’t changing the subject entirely. “I’m going find someone to help you.”
“You know there’s no one. You heard what he said.”
“And I know wizards lie. I have to try, Crow. Girl will stay here with you.”
“And the egg.”
He snorted in annoyance. “I’m not going to leave you out here.”
“Don’t want anyone in town to s-s-steal it,” I countered, teeth chattering.
He lifted a hand to rub his face, scraping rough whiskers. “No,” he admitted and sighed.
“It’s not like I’m g-going anywhere,” I pointed out sourly. “Girl could hold me down with her little finger.”
She blushed and looked worried at the same time. Somewhere between the argument and now she’d filled a cup full of water and held it, waiting.
“I’m leaving her the crossbow.”
“Please don’t shoot me, Girl.” As a joke, it failed miserably.
Tanris pulled the egg out of his bag, set it down beside me, then got to his feet and moved away. “Just remember, I caught you once, I can catch you again.”
“That was an aberration.”
“One of many.”
“I n-never make the same mistake twice.”
“Hang on, you hear? I’ll be back in a couple of days.” The door bumped closed. He always did have to have the last word.
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Girl cried a great deal over the next while. I wanted to, but I was too exhausted by spasms that had become nearly constant. I couldn’t tell any more if I felt sick. Nothing remained in my belly and whatever contractions my stomach might have engaged in simply blended with the rest of the agony. I shivered violently with cold. Holding the egg close helped, and even Girl agreed she could feel some heat from it. She dug out a hole in the floor of the barn and built a little fire, but the flames did little to help. She spent the night lying next to me, trying to keep me warm. I much doubt she got any more sleep than I did.
By morning, the spasms came with surges of green. I do not know if the bursts could properly be termed “light,” for it was more a pulsing discoloration surging through whatever muscles were cramping. Interesting, yes; pleasant, no. All the while, the Voices nattered at me like demented things, doing an outstanding job of observing the obvious: I was sick. I was in pain. I was dying. I was green. I was afraid. I was angry. I’d been cursed by a wizard. Another was needed to reverse the magic—and on and on until I croaked furiously at them to stop. With absolute certainty, I didn’t want the interference of another wizard, living or not.
Frightened, Girl went to sit in the corner.
I concentrated on recalling every curse I’d ever known and applying it to Duzayan, and when I couldn’t remember any more, I made them up.
Late into the second night after Tanris left, I finally slept. All too soon, consciousness returned to me. I ached abominably and grit filled my eyes. After a bit, Girl came to crouch down and study me intently.
“I’m still here,” I rasped, and she nodded. Her thin face was pinched and dark circles marked her eyes. Inquiry into Tanris’s whereabouts brought only a shrug, and asking where we were was just ridiculous. She had some broth for me, for which I was grateful if only to moisten my lips and mouth. It had an odd tangy flavor to it. After that I slept again.
Movement awakened me. It was small and erratic, but accompanied by a tearing noise and then a sharp stinging sensation across my belly. I would not have thought I had energy enough for yelling and leaping, but I burst up out of the comfort of my makeshift bed with surprising alacrity. There was no one in the little barn with me; I don’t know where Girl had disappeared to, but she’d taken her crossbow from its place by the door. I understood that even as I collapsed against the far wall, too weak even for adrenalin to keep me up.
Heart pounding in terror, I pulled up my shirt. Among the black marks on my abdomen—faded somewhat now—two irregular cuts bled. I thought at first that Brother Three had planted a demon or some other sort of monster in my belly and it was digging its way out, but then my bed rustled. I crawled to my pack and drew my knife, sweating and shaking with weakness, ears ringing, lips dry. With the tip of the blade, I flipped back the blankets to reveal the egg. It wriggled fitfully, scraping and rocking. A ragged opening marked one side, and from it protruded a sharp little beak.
Egg was hatching.
“No!” I exclaimed. “No, no, no! You can’t hatch. Don’t do that!” I couldn’t stop it; waving my hands and protesting frantically certainly didn’t work. Tiny, dagger-like talons ripping through the tough covering followed the appearance of the beak. A thick, whitish substance oozed from the holes, and I gingerly moved the whole production off my bedding. Sitting down close by, I watched helplessly. Tanris would be livid, and I couldn’t even entertain anticipation for watching him yell and flail about. No egg meant no cure for the poison; with no cure for the poison, there would be no Crow.
Under normal circumstances, I might have paced. I couldn’t do that, so I sat on the floor and rubbed my head and watched the baby dragon’s emergence into the world. There had to be a way around this disaster, and somehow I would find it. I lived in a world of possibility. Nothing came to me immediately, but the hatchling made a fine mess out of his previous home. On the off chance that the casing might still serve some purpose, I scooted closer and used my knife to make a cut far cleaner and easier to repair. Mindful to keep my fingers out of the way of the hatchling’s continued efforts, and with my blade and a spoon from our cooking gear, I eased the edges apart. Slimy, filmy stuff covered the hatchling, but it blinked up at me with curiosity and utter fearlessness.
“Come on, then,” I urged, and the little beastie tilted its head back and made minuscule creaking noises. With the spoon and a glove, I got it out onto the floor where it wobbled and stretched out sticky wings experimentally. I watched in faint disgust and then used some of the hay to wipe the thing off. It didn’t work very well. Girl had left a pot of water on the coals, and with a piece of the fabric that had been wound around my head I managed to bathe the thing. Egg—only it wasn’t “Egg” anymore, was it?—creaked and wobbled about. Holding it got me a cut across the back of my hand for my efforts. That beak was sharp! Luckily, I had armor in the form of my leather gloves.
As nonexistent dragons go, it was rather engaging. It couldn’t walk straight to save its life. What had been bony ridges and horns on the heads of its parents were merely bumps from beneath which peered golden eyes with slitted pupils. Its hide was an odd color, sort of coppery and green with no sign of the plates that had covered the adult’s neck and chest, though the coloring was lighter there. No horns, either. It creaked at me and staggered about, and after a bit I thought to offer it some broth. I had no idea what
baby dragons ate. Hopefully not people. It had some trouble with its long tongue, but didn’t waste much time figuring things out as I poured little spoonfuls of soup into its mouth. I fed it until it wouldn’t take any more, and then it sat there gazing at me sleepily, eyelids drooping.
“That looks like a good plan,” I said. A little more hay made a nice nest, and then I took to my own bed. Hatching a dragon was exhausting work. I’d hardly closed my eyes before I had company. The dragon curled up against me, let out a tiny, contented sigh, then laid still. I debated pushing it away, but I’d grown rather used to its presence, and moving it seemed like altogether too much effort. I was reminded of Tanris’s cat. At least Egg—I couldn’t call it that any more—wasn’t hairy. What had happened to the wretched feline? I drifted to sleep with images of dragon appetizers dancing in my head.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Girl screamed. Well, not a real scream, but more like a hiccuping gasp accompanied by an unsuccessful juggling of the wood she’d gathered for our fire. She kept hold of one piece, and in spite of having the crossbow slung over her shoulder, her weapon of choice was a two foot branch still dangling a couple of leaves. She leveled it at me—at us—menacingly.
“It hatched,” I said, and she stared as if I’d lost my mind. I sighed and rubbed my face. I really needed a shave, and while I had never realized it before, I was apparently somewhat obsessed with cleanliness. “I couldn’t exactly stop it, you know. I don’t suppose you have any brilliant ideas you’d care to share?”
She lifted her branch threateningly.
“That’s one possibility,” I nodded, “but I’d like to exhaust all others before we resort to killing our only salvation.”
Warily, she picked up her scattered wood and stacked it by the fire, then peered into the soup pot and gave a satisfied nod. Wait until she discovered I was sharing it with Not-An-Egg. Conversations with Girl were challenging; I had to limit myself to yes-or-no questions. Had she seen any sign of Tanris? No. Was she all right? Yes. Were our supplies holding out all right? Yes (and well they ought, for I had eaten nothing for days). Any sign of other people? She branched out with her conversation skills to hold up three fingers and shrug, which I assumed meant they’d passed by without giving any trouble. Then she pointed at me and held both hands out.
As the Crow Flies: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 32
