by Jenni Ward
Walking along the road, the trees of the Great Forest were within sight, but he saw that a village loomed on the horizon – that hadn’t been on the map either. With each step he took, he reminded himself of his purpose. The same task he’d been trying to complete for years without success. He’d told himself a number of times that he could quit and just do what he wanted, but duty and an oath compelled him to act unselfishly.
As the village came into view, a middle-aged man, bent over in half as he carried a large bale of hay on his back, walked steadily towards him. When the man looked up, Quinn paused and tried to gauge his reaction.
“What brings you out this way, young man?”
Quinn bit his tongue at the wording; he reminded himself that being referred to as young shouldn’t grate his nerves. “I’m just looking for a relative who might have come this way.”
“You’d do well not to enquire around here. Strangers, you see, aren’t welcome in these parts, especially the further you go down this road.”
“I’ll take your warning under advisement.” Quinn nodded to end the greeting and continued past the man.
“Your funeral then!” The words caught Quinn’s attention and his pace slowed. He turned to see the man walking away down the road. Usually, he didn’t rattle so easily. He knew he shouldn’t; if the villagers saw his power, then they’d be the ones running.
At the village, Quinn looked around trying to carefully choose who to approach. A woman sat weaving a basket on the step of a wooden house.
“Have you seen..?” Quinn pointed to the piece of paper he held in his hand, and the woman leaned forward.
“Well that’s a mighty fine drawing. You one of those fancy artist types from the city then?”
“It’s not my work. I’m trying to find this person.”
“Hmm,” the woman murmured and turned back to her basket.
“Is it possible that someone could have passed through here without being noticed?”
“Of course, we’re not awake at all hours just to watch for people.” Her hand pushed the reed through, and she pointed down the road. “Just you be careful around these parts. Strangers aren’t much welcomed here.”
“You’re the second person to say that today.”
“Perhaps it’s time you listened then. Now be off, I need to get this finished.”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t encountered such strange behaviour before, and he’d been on the receiving end of some very odd behaviour in his search.
Moving away from the woman, he headed down the dusty road. Houses stood on either side, with many of their occupants watching as he passed by. The adults seemed wary of him, and he looked around hoping to ask a child or two because in his experience, they were less likely to lie. He paused; he saw no children playing beside the houses, or running through the trees a short distance away.
“Well that’s a little creepy.” He shook off the feeling and left the town but felt compelled to turn and look back before following the curve of the road. Behind him he saw villagers standing in a group, staring in his direction. “Humans are far too complicated.”
Still, as a little house appeared on the road ahead, he slowed his pace and then stopped altogether. The words of those in the last village repeated in his mind and he looked off to the side. The Great Forest, according to the map, covered much of the area. He hoped that maybe he could sneak a look at the village without entering it, and the trees would provide a good amount of cover.
As he stepped off the path and into the shade of the forest trees, he thought about the picture in his pocket. He’d been gone from home for nearly two weeks on his search, and he longed to sleep in his own bed, in clean clothes, and get rid of the beard that graced his face.
A branch snagged on his pants, and Quinn had to stop to free it. The nearby brambles scratched at his hands as he finally freed the last stubborn thread. The undergrowth continued to cause Quinn issues, and he breathed with relief when he found a path. It didn’t look too much better than the wildness he’d just walked through, but the narrow little piece of dirt trailing around the trees would be better than nothing.
The path took a twist to the left before turning sharply to the right. Quinn looked up trying to see the sun in the sky to get a bearing, but the trees hid it away. He growled in frustration before his foot caught on a rock. His arms stretched out to attempt to break his fall but failed. Rolling over several times, Quinn reached up to touch his head. Trying to stand up, his foot slipped from beneath him and sent him tumbling forward again. His head hit against something hard and darkness blinded him.
Quinn’s eyes opened for a moment, and everything looked blurry, so he blinked once, twice. With his eyes squinting, he rolled from his back onto his side. His hand reached up and rubbed at his aching shoulder. He heard a crunching noise and moved his head down so he could see his knees. A pair of black boots appeared, and then its owner prodded him in the chest.
“You down there,” Prater’s voice boomed above him.
“What?” Quinn’s hoarse voice replied, and he attempted to look up towards the owner of the boots.
“Dragon, I presume.” The voice failed to wait for Quinn to reply. “Who are you?”
“Just looking for someone, maybe you’ve seen...”
“You don’t belong here.”
Quinn felt the boot kick hard into his stomach, and he cringed at the pain that shot through his body. Instinctively, he pulled his knees closer to his waist to try and foil any other kicks that might come.
“Look, I’m not looking for trouble, I’m just...”
“Looking for someone, right?”
Quinn felt uneasy being circled like some kind of prey and wished he’d listened to the villagers who had warned him.
“I don’t like strangers around these parts.”
“I don’t want any trouble; I’ll just be on my way then.” Quinn reached out his hands and pushed himself up. He breathed in sharply as his shoulder objected to the movement.
“Now, now what’s the hurry then?” The man extended his hand, and Quinn finally managed to look up and see a vague impression of the man’s face.
“I have been travelling for a while. I would like to get home.”
Stubbornly, Quinn got to his own feet and felt relieved to find that while other parts of his body objected, his sore feet appeared okay to walk on. Quinn hadn’t managed to stand up straight, but he did get a sense of the height of the man who stood a head taller than he did.
“First, let’s do a little test and see if you are a dragon...or not?”
Quinn rolled his eyes, wondering what sort of foolish nonsense the man would attempt. He’d heard of tests that included being tied to a chair and dunked in water, being pushed from a cliff to see if one could fly and eating the hot peppers from the south – to see if one could breathe fire, of course.
“Fine, let’s get it over with then.”
“Hold out your hands.”
Quinn held out his hands, waiting. He saw the gold cuffs in the man’s hand and recoiled at the sight. His instinct betrayed his own fear, and when Quinn looked up, he saw the smile that had spread across the man’s face.
The man grabbed one hand and locked the cuff in place. Quinn struggled against the man, but the journey and fall had taken their toll. The gold just further complicated his situation. As the coolness of the gold encircled both wrists, his vision became intermittent. Quinn’s legs felt weak. When he landed hard on the ground, he heard the laugh, and then felt the pain as blows struck at his body.
Chapter 5
For the first couple of days after Mary returned to Tiani, she barely left the book building, though she did nothing within it either. Mary had not touched a book but to put it back on a shelf since she had returned from Haversy, but she knew that she would have to leave the security of the book building eventually.
That day did come when the last of the water in the barrel ran dry. Located near the hanging tree, t
he well stood a short distance from the book building but across the divide of dirt that separated the buildings in town. Several of the villagers had looked at her gloves as she drew the pail up from the well, but Mary dismissed it by telling them she had an accident with boiling water in a neighbouring village and had scarred her hands. No one asked any more questions.
Mary had lost interest in the books that had once filled so much of her time. No men had been hanged in her time away, which meant he was still to come, number sixteen. She considered trying to ignore the fact that the next of Prater’s victims would be a dragon. Sure, she’d have good luck if she rescued him also, but it wouldn’t be the lead to the future she’d imagined. Of course, if Mary didn’t rescue him and he hung, that would bring her bad luck for knowingly letting him die.
Tapping her fingers on the wooden desk, Mary considered which would be the worse possibility –being cursed for life and not knowing what she had missed out on, or knowing what life could have been like if she weren’t so foolish but having good luck. To Mary, the decision felt akin to choosing how she wanted to die; neither something she wanted but inevitable all the same.
As she sat at the desk, fingers tapping, raised voices outside drew her thoughts from the possibility to the reality, and Mary knew that the time had come. Walking to the front door, Mary gazed out upon the scene taking place just metres away. Like some surreal recreation, Prater sat high on his cream steed amongst the gathered people. Mary’s eyes followed the rope, gripped tightly in Prater’s left hand, to the gold handcuffs around the wrists of a man.
The man differed substantially from last time. Unlike Michael, he didn’t struggle to free himself, his voice wasn’t protesting his innocence. From a distance, he even looked dead. His clothes were tattered and torn, particularly around the hems, and a layer of brown earth mixed with blood, both dried and fresh, covered the man’s dishevelled clothing. At no point did he move as Mary watched through the window in the book building’s door. The only movement came from the man’s brown hair as it shifted in the breeze.
Looking away, Mary found herself facing the stairs that led to her bedchamber. Raising her eyes, she made her decision and strode down the passage.
The bedchamber would have been in complete darkness had it not been for the solitary window above Mary’s bed. Mary retrieved food and water from the little storage cupboard that sat in the one darkened corner of the room.
Maybe I shouldn’t follow the same plan; Prater would know I had something to do with it before. No, it would be better to just follow the tunnel and enter when it is dark, wouldn’t it? Mary’s hand hovered in the air as she considered the thoughts.
Mary didn’t want to raise Prater’s suspicions, and she conceded he wouldn’t be so careless again, but she would need to move quickly to ensure the dragon’s survival.
After she placed the food back into the cupboard, Mary made her way downstairs and into the hidden room. She remained there until she felt the chill that came as darkness fell over the village. With a final glance back at the closed door to the book building, she started down the tunnel with a single candle to light the stone walls once the torches glow faded away.
At the end of the tunnel, Mary pressed her ear against the wall, listening for the slightest sound. She knew that they checked the prisoners regularly, and as Mary sat there, she heard the door to the cell open.
“All’s well, Prater,” Delwyn said, and Mary heard the door close again, scraping along the stone floor.
The time had come. She pressed the lever and reached through to place the candleholder on the floor just as she had the first time. As she climbed through the hole, she had the key in her hand ready. The dragon sat on the side where Michael had been, his eyes barely open. Mary placed her finger on her lips to elicit the dragon’s silence, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
Putting the key in the handcuff, Mary attempted to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. Panicking, her hands shook as she looked at the dragon. His blue-green eyes stared back at her momentarily before nodding back towards his wrist.
She tried the key again. This time Mary heard the click and closed her eyes in relief. Within moments she had freed him, but he didn’t move. The weakened dragon appeared drained from the contact with gold, and Mary wondered how long Prater had held the dragon before returning to Tiani. Michael had been weak, but nothing compared to this man – no doubt remained in Mary’s mind that sixteen was the correct number.
Mary helped him stand and they made their way to the door in the wall. His body shook as he began to go through the hole. He paused halfway through to catch his breath. Mary followed and felt relief as she pressed down on the lever to conceal the escape.
“The candle,” hissed the dragon, and Mary reached to snatch it back just in time. She fell backwards with the candle in hand as the wall closed just as the cell door opened.
Mary froze with fear on the floor. Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of discovery. She couldn’t be sure that the candle, or even she, hadn’t been seen, or perhaps if the sound of the bricks had been heard...
“Prater, he’s gone!” Delwyn yelped.
“What!” Prater’s voice boomed through the wall.
Though Mary couldn’t see the dragon, she heard him take in a sharp breath that he didn’t release immediately. The wall they were leaning against shook as the cell door connected with it, followed by heavy footsteps over the stone floor.
“Get some light in here! Now!” Prater ordered.
“He’s gone,” the guard repeated as if he still couldn’t believe his own words.
“I can see that he’s gone! I’m not blind! Find him!”
Behind her, Mary felt the unfamiliar closeness of the dragon’s body against hers. She hadn’t been so close to anyone else in a long time, and she cringed at his warm breath on her ear. His hands on her arms restricted her from moving, but she couldn’t seem to get him to loosen his grip. With her eyes closed, she counted the seconds until she could freely move.
Finally, the voices quieted in the room. Mary attempted to stand, but the dragon’s hand tugged on her sleeve, and she took that as a sign that it wasn’t yet safe to move. Mary wondered if perhaps the dragon could sense Prater on the other side, standing still in the cell, hoping to solve the puzzle. If they suspected a tunnel, they would destroy the cell to find it, and no doubt would remain of Mary’s involvement. She shook the vision from her mind and focused on breathing to remain calm.
Another deep breath; Mary closed her eyes for a moment. The dragon still held onto her arm and at least their bodies protected each other from the cold. After a while, Mary’s body felt cramped from the lack of movement. Her eyes had watched the candle as it burnt down to nothing, leaving them in darkness. The thought of making the journey back to the book building without light meant it would be slow. Still, the notion didn’t linger long as the darkness had made her tired and she slipped into sleep.
Opening her eyes, the darkness confused Mary at first. She felt like she had slept the night away, but the lack of light made her feel she had woken in the middle of the night. She could hear nothing but the sound of her own regular breathing and that of the dragon’s irregular breathing behind her.
Mary couldn’t tell whether he was asleep or awake, but his hold had loosened so she took the opportunity to put some distance between them. As her hands felt for the familiar rough stone texture, she heard movement as the dragon stood behind her. His hand found her shoulder, and she pushed through her feelings to act as his guide, reminding herself that she should have good luck in her life now that she had truly saved a dragon’s life.
Mary had walked the tunnels a hundred times over the years, but things were different without that one sense she relied upon. As she fumbled down the tunnel, Mary felt like the blind man in the neighbouring village that the children teased and threw things at because they knew he could do nothing to stop them. Even though the impairment would not last, Mary knew she didn’t li
ke the feeling of being without it, even for just that journey.
Despite any reservations she had, they soon saw the glow of light as they neared the lit end of the tunnel where the torches still burned. Once in the hidden room, the dragon sat on the bed, appearing completely exhausted as he rubbed his eyes.
“I’ll get you fresh food and water.” Mary bent down to pick up a clean plate from the shelf below the table-top.
“Thank you,” the dragon spoke his first words to her.
She didn’t meet his face; she wanted to keep a firm emotional and physical distance between them now that they were safe.
“I’ll bring some water so you can wash.” Mary left him alone in the room.
Upstairs, Mary went to the front door where the sunshine flowed through the glass. People appeared to be going about their normal routines. Searching the faces, she couldn’t find Prater or any of his loyal men. She didn’t feel relieved at all at not finding him. Mary thought it most important to know where people were that you didn’t want to find you.
In her bedchamber, Mary washed and put on her plain brown dress. In the reflection board, she caught a glimpse of the girl who stood facing her and then turned away. Picking up a cloth, she draped it over the board. She didn’t need a reflection to mock her anymore. She headed downstairs to the main floor.
Mary went out the front door and strode over to the well where she drew up a bucket of fresh water. She could see a few of the men in their workshops already at work, but women and children were nowhere. Outside by the well, the town looked even eerier than what she had seen from her bedchamber’s window. The smothering silence felt like a bad omen.
With her bucket filled, Mary returned to the book building and secured the front door behind her before double checking the bolt. She headed for the hidden room and found the dragon still there, sitting on the bed, looking weak but more alert.
With the bucket of water on the floor, Mary picked up an empty bowl from the floor beside the fireplace and gave it a quick wipe before refilling it and placing it on the table by the bed. The dragon caught her hand as she began to move away, and she jumped.
