by Jenni Ward
Hands encircled her and tried to lift her away from her sister.
“No! Let me go!” Mary kicked and scratched until the hands released her and she crawled back towards her family, lying down beside her mother, clutching her warm hand and tugging on it every now and then. “Why won’t they open their eyes? How come they won’t wake up?”
Mary looked up at the person who had tried to hold her before and saw the boy her mother had considered too arrogant to be a leader. He trembled and reached out his hand, which Mary swatted away.
“This is your fault. They won’t wake up because of you!”
He opened his mouth, but another man strode past Prater and turned so his back obscured her line of sight. “I think you’ve done enough for tonight. Let the girl grieve.”
Mary wiped her eyes at the rawness of the memory. She shivered as she remembered how she had clasped her mother’s hand until the warmth left her. Prying her hand away had taken some effort on Yansa’s part. She sniffed and used her sleeve to wipe her face of the tears.
Chapter 3
Prater had been in a foul temper since the dragon had escaped several weeks before, and Mary had tried to avoid him as much as possible. Still, she hadn’t been surprised to be stirred away from the book she sat reading by a knock at the door.
“Master.”
“It’s such a nice afternoon; I thought we might take a walk, look at those wildflowers.”
Mary glanced back towards where she had left her book, knowing she would much rather have continued with it. Instead, she nodded and took Prater’s offered arm. They walked down the street and turned onto a little dirt trail.
She’d walked to the old river bridge many times over the years. The river had dried up a long time ago, but a variety of wildflowers painted the shores where it had once run.
“How goes the search?” Mary ventured. She grabbed a dragon-rose from a bush beside the trail as they ambled past, admiring the vibrant blue colouring.
“Not well, I should probably give up searching. My father used to say that if you couldn’t find what you’d lost within a day, then you weren’t meant to have it.”
Her fingers felt the softness of the rose petals, giving her something to focus on. “Perhaps it is a sign that strangers should be welcomed once again.”
“I trusted the word of a stranger once, with disastrous consequences. No, I can’t allow that mistake again.” The comment piqued Mary’s curiosity and she wondered at who the stranger could have been. Prater had justified his insistence on ensuring strangers stayed away from Tiani by claiming they were dragons, and people still believed that dragons ate people.
“The village will die without more people though. Each year it gets older, and there’s so few of us that are younger.” Only a handful of children had survived the burning, and they were all now approaching adulthood or already there. A few had left for the larger cities, others had family elsewhere; most just hadn’t wanted to stay and be reminded daily of their loss.
“I know, Mary, that’s been on my mind too of late.”
The bridge came into view and Mary moved off and crouched to pick some of the flowers, choosing the white sprays of delicate buds, the blue forget-me-nots, and yellow-orange marigolds. She reached out and tugged a couple of the large leaves from the base of the sprays free, using them to wrap it all into a bouquet. Standing she looked over to see Prater smiling in her direction.
“That’s very beautiful.”
Mary shrugged. She’d read a few books on how to arrange flowers but her own attempts never looked as refined as she liked. Still, they would brighten up a corner with their splash of colour, bringing some life with them.
“They won’t be here much longer.”
Mary knew Prater as right about that. Today the sky had remained clear, but the cooler winds had been slowly moving the warmth of the sun away towards the south of the kingdom.
“Perhaps you could make me one, too. I have a vase on my mantel that always seems to be empty.”
Nodding, Mary busied herself picking flowers to make a second one, though she replaced the blue forget-me-nots with red bellflowers. Once bundled in leaves, she offered the posy to him. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand, and she bit her lip for a moment.
“You know, we’re not so unalike, are we Mary?”
“I’m not sure.”
Prater laughed and offered his arm again as they started back towards the village. “I guess, what I meant is that we get along alright. I’m always so busy protecting Tiani, I never venture too far away from here. I mean, we both live in the village, and our ages are not so different, only nine years. Not that much really.”
Mary’s finger twitched, concealed beneath the leaf. She had no intentions of remaining in the village and being bound to Prater. When she had first gone to look for books in the nearby villages several months before, she had seen how the people smiled more than in Tiani.
“I don’t want to stay always in Tiani, Master. There is so much I would like to see before I make a home with someone.” Part of her felt she should remain for the sake of the books, but her heart told her that she needed to leave to find her own place in the kingdom – she just needed a little good luck to make it happen.
Prater sighed but said nothing more. Ahead, Mary felt pleased to see the street into Tiani emerging into view. The sun had already disappeared, leaving the sky resembling the wildflower patch.
“Maybe we could walk again tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” Mary shifted her feet on the step and reached to turn the door handle.
“Mary?”
She hadn’t completely turned back to him when she felt a light kiss on her cheek. Her eyes darted to his face as he smiled and stepped away.
“Until tomorrow then, Mary.” He walked away without waiting for a reply, and Mary slipped inside, sliding the bolt to lock the door.
In the privacy of her room, she looked into the reflection board and touched her cheek. The lingering touch brought thoughts of being bound to him to the forefront of her mind. Mary held him responsible for what happened to her family and she knew that would always cause her blood to run cold.
Prater’s voice floated through her window, and she sat on the bed looking down towards the detention building. With her room in darkness, she knew the moonlight might betray her, but she watched on despite it.
She couldn’t hear the words but saw Prater point Delwyn towards the north end of the village. Both men nodded, and Mary knew her chances to escape were diminishing if Prater’s focus on finding the missing dragon wavered and he kept his men close to the village’s boundary. Turning away from the window she glanced around the familiar room making her decision.
The dragon looked up with eyebrows raised as Mary hurried into the room. She brushed it aside and took in his improved appearance – despite still being discoloured, the swelling around the dragon’s eye had subsided, and the cuts had healed over.
“We go tonight.”
“Where to?” he questioned, seeming a little uneasy.
“To a town nearby: Haversy.”
“So, by this time tomorrow I’ll be a bound man?”
Mary looked over at him; his unhappiness with what he had promised came through clear, but she felt happy nevertheless. “Yes.”
They left through yet another tunnel underneath the book building, this one exiting outside of the village boundary. A series of large rocks concealed the opening hidden deep in the forest and away from any roads where they might be seen. Mary and the dragon walked into the town of Haversy in silence, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the approaching binding equalled a kind of death for him. A deal had been struck, and dragons had to keep their word like everyone else.
At the village gathering building, Mary found the binding man. It was a simple ceremony with his wife and son as witnesses to the event. When they left the gathering building, Mary and the dragon had identical black binding marks with their binding r
ecord number entwined in the pattern on their left hands — the magic of the dragons.
No words were spoken as they located a suitable inn where Mary bartered for a room, handing over an engraved silver hand reflection board that had once belonged to her mother. At the binding service, the dragon had given the name Michael. She wasn’t convinced he had been truthful but accepted it all the same. He gave no other names; most people, like Mary, only had the one. Titles only belonged to the very rich or powerful who mostly lived in the great cities. Titles did not matter though, as the dragons bound the souls of the two together – names were completely irrelevant.
In the room, the dragon still hadn’t said anything to Mary, and she felt a pang of disappointment. She had on her hand what she had wanted, and now that they were bound, she would be blest. She waited for him to reveal himself as a dragon. Instead though, he stood leaning against the wall, staring at his hand.
Her eyes travelled around the room, and she walked around the straw bed to be nearer the window and as far away from Michael as she could get.
“You hate me.” Mary turned to look out the window. In the distance, black rain clouds were rolling in from the direction of the Great Forest, enveloping everything in their path into darkness.
“I’m bound to you,” he replied from the other side of the room. “I never said I’d love you or do anything else.”
Looking away from the window, Mary watched as Michael slumped down onto the wooden floor, still leaning against the wall.
“You take the bed,” he said.
Mary continued to stare out of the window. “No, you take the bed. I’m not tired.”
“We’ve been travelling all day; if I’m tired then you certainly must be too.”
Tears welled behind Mary’s eyes, but she wasn’t going to let them fall. Surely if he’s a dragon he would say so? Shouldn’t I know about the good luck? What if I my calculations were wrong? She didn’t want to consider that thought.
She remembered back to the day she had dislodged the old book from the shelf. The book with the two entwined dragons on the cover and the simple title of: Dragons. Water-stained and covered in mould, she had to clean the book up first to be near it without coughing. Her curiosity had outweighed her mentor’s warning, and night after night she had poured over the ancient pages until she reached a section about luck.
That one chapter on luck she read over and over. It contained the formula for predicting future events based on the location, year, and even the day. The formula though had been incomplete. Ink streaked down one side of the page, making the last couple of words on each line a mystery, but she had read it enough to know that there had been just one important number on the page that she couldn’t read well. Mary had stared at that one blur longer than the reading had taken until, confident she had it correct, she calculated the next dragon that would come Tiani’s way. She had thought the margin of error so small it worth the risk, but fifteen had been wrong. It should have been sixteen.
“You’re not a dragon, are you?” her words were no more than a disappointed whisper.
“A dragon? Of course not. I tried to tell them I was innocent, that I wasn’t a dragon...is that the only reason you rescued me?” The harshness of his tone felt like an accusation, and Mary bit her lip.
“Never mind.”
Michael shook his head, and she heard the growl that escaped from his lips. “Look, Mary, take the bed.”
“Don’t bother with kindness now. As you said, you’ve done all you agreed to do.”
Mary continued to stare at the window, aware of his reflection looking back at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind. He moved over to the straw bed and lay down.
She knew when he started to sleep from the change in his breathing. Mary switched from watching his reflection to her own. A tear fell from her eye and rolled down the side of her face, the only one she let escape.
When morning arrived and she heard Michael stirring, Mary remained at the window, observing the rooves of the buildings set against a clear sky. With the light, she could see the tips of the trees that filled the Great Forest in the distance and knew beyond that, home waited.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, and Mary didn’t reply. “What will you do now?”
Mary looked down to the floor, away from the window. “That’s not your concern.”
“Actually, it is. I’m your husband now and you are my responsibility.”
Finally, Mary turned away from the window to look at him. Yesterday everything had seemed so clear, but now her luck seemed nowhere to be found.
“Go home to your promised,” she replied, and then turned back to the window. She just couldn’t look at him any longer, look at what might and could have been, that now wouldn’t be.
“And how am I to explain this?” he countered, pointing at the binding mark on his hand. “First you rescue me, make me be bound to you, and now you want me to leave?”
“It’s what you wanted, to leave.” Mary turned to him, wanting to say it to his face. “Tell them I died. Tell them it was a stupid girl’s dying wish you granted.”
“But what...”
“I’m old enough to take care of myself, whoever, whatever, you are.”
“They will know you are not dead! You know how these bindings work...how am I...what...”
“I’m sure you can come up with some reason...or maybe you can pay someone to undo it. You have such a high opinion of yourself that I suppose you have the wealth to back it up.” The bitter tone surprised Mary, but she felt keenly the disappointment of everything she had done resulting in nothing.
“I won’t leave until I know you have work, until I know you are able to take care of yourself properly. I might not be a dragon, but I’m not a monster either.”
With a cynical smile, Mary turned to him. “I hardly have any other choice, woman are rarely paid for their work.”
“But you worked with the books...”
“I was not paid. The food was guilt, or pity, both maybe, who knows which, for the past.”
“What happened?”
“Again, that’s none of your business.”
He let out a sigh of frustration, a reflection of Mary’s own feelings.
“Come with me.”
“What, and pretend none of this happened? It’s clear you resent me; that wouldn’t be a good situation for either of us.” Furious, Mary turned back to the safety of the view from the window.
After some time, she heard him open the door and leave. Turning around, Mary sighed at the solitude. Was it really such a big request that I should be happy? To know what it is like to have someone care for me as much as I do for them?
Two days later, Mary arrived back where it all started. On her hands she wore gloves to hide the binding mark, a constant reminder of how easily a plan could go wrong, a reminder of how she had made a mistake and how dangerous books could be.
Walking along the main road, Mary wondered if anyone would have noticed her gone. She often travelled between neighbouring villages to collect discarded books and papers but had always returned. As if to answer the question, she observed the food in the box in front of the door. She licked her lips at the sight and heard the growl of her empty stomach.
Inside the book building, Mary lit a candle with a match that she had picked up from the tin box beside it. Walking forward, Mary turned right into the main book room. She looked at the familiar books that reached up high on the walls to the ceiling, stairs going everywhere so that every book was accessible without too much effort. When Mary had been little, she had thought that the book building was pure magic. The thought brought a momentary smile to her face.
The book that had led to the mess she faced came to mind. She considered if maybe she had done the calculations for what she wanted, rather than what they told. What if it wasn’t a dragon but just a man? Had I believed in it so hard because I wanted it to be true? Should I rescue the next man to be
caught by Prater, or should I stop making such a fool of myself?
Why is it that we always have more questions than answers? All my life I have found answers to my questions in the books that surround me every day. Now though they seem so empty of everything I have always thought they held.
Walking back to the passage room, Mary untied her cape as she trudged up the stairs to retire to her bedchamber. Her arms carried the bundles of food that she had collected from the box. She just wanted to go to sleep and wake up a week in the past so she could stop herself from doing what she had.
In Mary’s bedchamber, she hung her shawl next to the reflection board. Her eyes were drawn to the girl who stared blankly back at her. She had never considered herself beautiful, maybe a little pretty when the lights were low and soft, but she saw a face staring back at her that appeared to have lost its soul.
Mary placed the food down on the table near her bed and changed her clothes. Her hand picked up a bread roll, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a bite. With her hunger dissipated, she opted for crawling into bed and snuggling down as far as she could under the quilt she had made five years before. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to be transported to another place where life was much simpler, easier, and always had the ending she wanted.
Chapter 4
Quinn narrowed his eyes on the map in his hands, frustrated. He’d spent most of the previous night going over it, trying to commit it to memory without luck. Only that morning he’d grumbled about how old the map’s details were, and now as he stood in the middle of a road, he growled in annoyance.
He’d purposefully planned his arrival in the Great Forest, knowing the thick trees would conceal his every movement, to prevent any panic arising from villagers who might bear witness. As it turned out, he had appeared on the very road he stood on – in full view of anyone who might have been around.
“Give me a break,” he muttered and folded the map, tucking it away inside his coat.
