Good Luck, Bad Luck

by Jenni Ward

  “You’re bound?” His tone conveyed his surprise.

  Mary tried to cover the back of her hand and inwardly cursed herself for overlooking her gloves. Her heart raced at the thought that anyone could have seen it while she had been at the well. His hand still held her fingers though.

  “Yes,” she replied, staring at the water in the bowl as the small ripples settled, and then added, “I am...I was...I...”

  “Sorry.” He held her hand a moment longer before letting it go, busying himself by picking up the cloth.

  Mary retreated upstairs to prepare the food, but saw no point putting on the gloves now that he knew. The dragon would know that she wouldn’t be after him as a husband and that he had no obligation to her beyond thanks.

  “Pull yourself together!” Mary chastised herself as she cut the bread, but despite her firm resolve she couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, Mary paused in her cutting to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. She couldn’t explain her sudden upsurge in emotion – it just wasn’t normal. As she continued to cut, she lamented on how different things could have been if there hadn’t been a leak in the ceiling, if the book hadn’t been placed at the end of the shelf, if only she hadn’t presumed that the number was... if...if...if – why?

  After several minutes, she composed herself enough to take the food downstairs to the dragon. Mary could see that he had washed, and though she didn’t know for sure, she suspected that he had transformed into his dragon form due to the warmth in the room. People thought of dragons as huge creatures, but they weren’t, according to the books. The dragons were said to be no more than twice the size as a dragon as they were in human form. In one book, Mary had seen the drawings of baby dragons and how cute and harmless they looked.

  “Here’s some food. You’ll need to stay here until things quieten down out there.” Mary turned to leave.

  “Wait, won’t you eat with me? There’s plenty here.”

  Looking at the floor, she shook her head.

  “It’s the least I can do for you in return.”

  He seemed so gentle, so caring, it made Mary feel all the worse for the decision she had made. No, not the decision, the mistake she had made. Glancing towards the door, Mary searched her brain for a suitable reply so that she could return to the books.

  “You’ve said thank you; that’s all I need.”

  “No, I must pay you back. What’s your name?” When Mary didn’t reply, the dragon continued, “I’m Quinn.”

  “Mary.”

  As much as she tried to avoid looking at him, it proved difficult to do when talking. His pale brown skin indicated that he was from the north – close to the sea where the people with the white skin lived. Flowing brown hair framed his handsome face and the lovely blue-green eyes that reminded Mary of a painting in the main book room. The painting was of some size and hung above the main fireplace; it was of the ocean, something that Mary had never seen, but it seemed like such a wondrous part of nature in the painting, calm and vast with no beginning and no end.

  “Whatever you want, just name it.”

  She closed her eyes, suppressing a wave of tears.

  “There’s nothing you can give me that I want. Please eat.” Mary departed, and then entered the main book room, grateful for the solitude.

  Standing with books all around and the fire burning did not lift Mary’s low spirits. She had often wondered if books could be enough for her – just as they had been for Yansa. When he had passed, the enjoyment she had revelled in with each new book had faded away without the joy of someone to share it with. Mary looked at her binding mark again, and as her heart fell, so did her tears.

  Chapter 6

  After the night Quinn thanked Mary, she tried her best to avoid going to the hidden room as much as possible. She didn’t want to look at Quinn, she didn’t want to get to know him – in fact, as far as Mary was concerned, the sooner that Quinn left the sooner Mary’s life could return to “normal”.

  As Mary walked down the stone stairs with fresh linen, she hesitated just before the door. Something seemed different, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Momentarily she stood there doing nothing but listening, wondering – while there seemed nothing to hear, her mind found plenty to wonder about.

  Pushing the thoughts away, she continued into the room and saw Quinn seated. He glanced up as she entered and smiled. Mary tried to determine if he or anything else in the room looked different, but nothing stood out.

  “Is everything alright?” Quinn asked, and Mary eyed him.

  Has he just been a dragon and transformed back to a human?

  “Fine,” she replied.

  The flames burned low but merry in the fireplace. She had been careful to avoid being seen collecting too much wood. The chimney of the hidden and narrow rooms backed onto each other and connected into one single chimney – otherwise a second chimney on that side would have been necessary and would look suspicious coming up from the ground without a purpose.

  “What do you do here? Wherever here is.”

  Mary glanced in the direction he gestured before she returned her gaze to him. She contemplated whether to tell him the truth.

  “The books. I’m the book-keeper.”

  A realisation passed over the dragon’s face, and he smiled at Mary. “I’m in a book building, of course, that makes sense. Here let me let help you.”

  He moved towards her, stretching out his hands. Mary felt his hand brush against hers as he took the linen and moved away again. Her other hand rubbed the spot of contact as it tingled slightly.

  “Is that why you saved me?”

  “What do you mean?” Mary inquired, wanting to know what that mind of his had come up with first before saying anything that she might regret.

  “Did you save me because of something you read?”

  “Yes.”

  At least that’s the truth, sort of. If he hadn’t been a dragon I wouldn’t have bothered, but I don’t need any more bad luck.

  Quinn stood beside the bed, and Mary glanced at the linen. Moving towards the pile at the end of the bed, she began unfolding one of the sheets. Picking it up to shake it, the cuff of her sleeve rose away from her wrist.

  A hand reached out and touched hers. Mary froze as Quinn stepped closer. She wanted to pull her hand free and leave but felt stuck on the spot. His thumb traced over the mark.

  “I know you said you were, but that binding mark is really fresh.”

  “I have work to do upstairs,” Mary replied shortly, averting her gaze.

  “The binding mark is fresh, Mary.”

  “Yes, it is.” Mary again broke eye contact.

  “But you said ‘was’ but the mark...” Quinn paused.

  Mary shifted her feet and shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

  Mary looked up at Quinn only to find him looking back her and not the mark. The truth of the binding continued to torment her; who would openly want to admit that they were bound to someone who had gone to continue their life elsewhere? She could have tried to lie about the binding mark, but anyone could tell he lived; the marks only disappeared when one part of the union died. When she had visited book buildings in the past, she’d heard the whispers about how dragons and sorcerers could break bindings but for a price she had no means to pay.

  “Complicated?” Quinn released her hand and she placed the sheet back on the bed. “Binding to someone shouldn’t be complicated...well, I guess there are some circumstances that might be, but really, they should be straightforward.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It makes you sad thinking about it?”

  Mary stole a glance and saw he continued to watch her. “Yes.”

  “Is it the reason you saved me from that cell? I’m fairly certain he had plans to hang me, if you hadn’t have done what you did, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Partly the reason. Like I said, it’s c
omplicated.”

  Mary felt relief at the greater distance between them as he moved towards the fire. Her hands smoothed out the crease in the sheet, but she still felt drawn to turn and watch him.

  “Everything happens for a reason, Mary. That’s what I believe anyway. We all have secrets; you can trust me, it’s not like I can tell anyone while I’m here anyway.”

  “I can’t tell you. It isn’t just my secret.” Their eyes met as he stared at her across the room; she tried to maintain the eye contact. “Plus, perhaps it would be better for you to know as little as possible.”

  “I don’t see why,” he pushed. Mary’s hand abandoned the sheet and her feet were keen to head for the door. “What will you do once I’m gone?”

  She nodded towards the entrance of the hidden room, “The books, they’re all I have, and maybe this is just where I’m meant to be after all.”

  “I’ve heard it’s a noble thing to do, caring for the books,” Quinn said and stood up.

  Mary tried to discern any hidden meaning in his words. Does this mean my good luck will begin again? “Yes, plus, I enjoy reading the books, but tomorrow you must leave.”

  “I’m not ready to go, not yet.” Quinn replied, breaking eye contact and moving back towards the bed. He picked up the linen, placing it on a chair.

  Mary stared at him as she took the linen off the bed and replaced it with the fresh ones she had brought down. Her mouth constantly tried to find things to say but she couldn’t seem to verbalise them. She wondered if telling a dragon what to do would be a wise thing given the circumstances.

  Once Quinn had smoothed the blanket down, he got comfortable on the bed, stretching out and casually interlocking his hands together behind his head.

  “But you will need to leave. Prater is still looking for you, and I don’t want...”

  “Mary, I’m not ready to go yet.”

  Mary wondered if he could see the annoyance on her face. “No one will recognise you now.”

  She referred to the fact that he shaved his face which had changed his appearance dramatically –he now looked a ten years younger than when he had been in the cell. For a moment Mary tried to work out Quinn’s age. He looked older than her but not as old as Prater.

  “I need my strength, Mary. My home is a long way from here, and I am still very weak.”

  “If you are not from here, then why did you come?” Mary paused, her curiosity piqued, and she moved back towards the bed. It had been the one thing not mentioned in the book; it only predicted the dragon passing through the village but never gave any indication as to why. She had considered that maybe the dragon came purely to spread good luck but that had seemed unlikely given the recent history of Tiani and dragons.

  Quinn leaned forward, his hands pushing on the bed, so he sat more upright, “I was searching for...my...brother...Jack. He left some weeks ago and hasn’t returned home, I just want to know that he is safe and well.”

  “Maybe by now he has returned home?” Mary suggested as she sat down at the end of the bed, trying to sound hopeful and convince him that a quick return would be best.

  “Maybe, but at least even if he hasn’t returned, I will still be able to let...let my family know,” Quinn paused and looked over at Mary. “Where are your parents?”

  Her face fell at the question and she looked at her hands that sat in her lap. “Dead.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Mary shrugged her shoulders and spoke evenly, “It isn’t your fault – it’s Prater’s fault solely. If he hadn’t tried to...never mind, it’s all in the past now anyway.”

  “He tried to do something?”

  “He angered the dragons.”

  “Ah, did he try to destroy the books? To burn the books?”

  Mary gripped her hands together and began to wring them. “Yes, when I was six.”

  “Books are sacred to dragons. They have protected them throughout time for a reason.”

  They? Why wasn’t he saying we?

  “Why not just destroy Prater though? Why did so many have to die?” Mary felt this would be her only opportunity to get some kind of answer about why her family had to die, why she had to grow up without them.

  “Because there will always be another Prater. It sends a message. The curse of death on the books has been there for longer than I have been alive. Dragons can’t lift or change it – it is just how things are with the dragon magic that was used.” His sentences were misleading. The way he spoke sounded like he was talking about someone, something, else.

  Then again, Mary thought to herself, what reason did he have to tell me the truth – me, a foolish, plain village human girl whom nobody cares about?

  Mary looked towards the door. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but then again, she really didn’t know what she wanted to know anymore. No matter what the reasons behind the curse, knowing them wouldn’t bring her family back.

  If the binding had taught her anything, it was that books could be very dangerous, or at least misleading, with the knowledge they contained. She rebuked herself for not listening to Yansa’s advice. If he had lived longer, she wondered if he would have eventually explained his warning about that one particular book especially. Mary knew Yansa probably only intended to shield her from making mistakes, but it seemed to her that telling her might have prevented some of her poor decisions.

  “I’d best go back upstairs,” Mary said as she stood and started towards the door.

  Quinn quickly got up from his relaxed pose on the bed and stood as well, catching her hand in his momentarily. “Give it another week, Mary, maybe by then I will be strong enough to leave.”

  She nodded reluctantly and left the room. As she walked up the steps to the bookcase entrance, Mary could feel the warmth on her hand from where Quinn had touched her, like a match that burns hot, then warm and then dissipates as if it never existed.

  Chapter 7

  Quinn had been in Tiani for a couple of weeks, and Mary felt a sense of urgency to get Quinn home. She had resolved that he needed to go before the whispers from the villagers that the dragon had remained close prompted anyone to look too closely her way.

  In the village, Mary kept to her usual routine and listened for news of Prater. He and his men had been gone for over a week, and an uneasy tension hung over the village. Mary didn’t know for sure, but she suspected that she wasn’t the only one in the village with a poor opinion of Prater. Yet the regular sense of protection and safety felt absent from Tiani since Prater had left.

  Mary turned around in the main book room, watching as the fire slowly died down to nothing. She had tidied up the few books she had removed from shelves but still held one in her hand that she had planned to read for a bit before sleeping. As she walked towards the staircase though, she hesitated; she didn’t feel sleepy in the slightest, and the quietness of the book building amplified her sense of loneliness.

  Her eyes travelled until they found the bookcase in the narrow book room. A little company would be welcome. She had found herself spending much of her spare time with Quinn reading and talking about books, and it had reminded her of how much she loved reading and sharing what she’d read.

  Smoothing her hair down with her hands, Mary headed for the hidden room. There she found Quinn looking at one of the books she had left there earlier in the day. He looked over it as she entered the room.

  “It’s interesting.”

  Mary smiled. “I always found that one a bit boring myself. The language is much older, and it makes it difficult to read.” She had chosen it thinking that he would appreciate a book on his dragonkind.

  “It mentions a bit about the Great War.”

  “Yeah, it has a little in it, but it’s not really detailed enough to understand about what happened to cause it all, or how it was resolved for that matter.”

  “So, all you know about the Great War is in these books?”

  “Yes, we don’t have any other books about it in our collection, but
some of the larger book buildings do – at least that’s what Yansa told me,” Mary paused and looked over at the man. “I suppose it didn’t tell you anything new?”

  He smiled and nodded. “I know more than what this book has. It’s a bit vague to be honest. I’m wondering if it was written by a human.”

  “I guess you know all about it then?”

  “Kind of difficult to avoid the topic growing up.” Quinn looked over at Mary. “You want to hear about it?”

  “Sure.” Mary smiled at the thought of learning something new that wasn’t from a book. She settled into the chair near the fire so she could distract her attention if necessary.

  “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how much is actually factual and how much is embellished so just keep that in mind. The legend goes though that a long time ago, dragons, sorcerers, and humans all lived separately in their own kingdoms and were restricted to them. As time passed, a disease began to spread through the dragon territory – it was devastating. This disease destroyed the plants and poisoned the water. Many dragons died and even more fell ill for long periods of time.

  No one knew what had caused it, but an older dragon called Miffen accused a sorcerer of creating the disease to try and wipe out all dragons. That sorcerer was a High Sorcerer called Illya, the one in charge of the kingdom, and he denied the charge.”

  “Had he though, the sorcerer?”

  Quinn shrugged. “At first, no one believed the disease existed but then the dragons started moving north into the human’s kingdom. Only then did Illya send sorcerers into the old dragon kingdom to assess if the disease existed. When the sorcerers reported the disease was real and reported on the damage it had caused. Illya had stated he wanted to see if anything could be done to fix the area for the dragons to return to their territory and journeyed there himself. The dragons, you see, had warned all sorcerers to stay away from their kingdom. Of course, when Illya reached the land he said that what he saw was a land regenerating. That’s when some of the dragons accused him of causing the damage since the land only appeared to recover once Illya went there. Miffen led the dragons, vowing to get revenge on Illya and all sorcerers.”