by Lyn Worthen
“Well, you said you wanted a ride,” said Loreth. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” said Mava. “A ways away, but not too far. I need to lie low and heal, then I want to go back. I know what I did wrong. I can help the other women escape. Or at least some of them.” She huffed breath again and sat down fast enough that she winced and rubbed her strapped ankle. “I don’t know. But I have to try.”
“But where do you want to go? Do you have relatives? Friends? Is there even another village anywhere near here?”
“There are villages all over the valley. I could probably find help at Brannen’s Crossing – one of my sisters married a man who lives there – but it’s too close. The bandits were talking of spreading out, taking over more villages. I don’t want to be caught in another raid. Certainly not with a broken ankle. Just take me away a bit, and I’ll hide in the fields. There are herbs and mushrooms, and I can set snares. I’ll be all right.”
“So you’re going to run around by yourself? Excuse me, hobble around by yourself? In the open fields? Don’t be ridiculous. Even if you don’t get caught again, you’ll starve. Or at least be so weak by the time your ankle is sound that you won’t be able to help anyone.”
“I have to try!”
“You can try helping your family when you’re well enough to be effective. My mother always said not to charge forward without a sound plan.”
“I can’t just stay here!”
“Come home with me,” said Loreth, before realizing what was about to come out of her mouth.
Then she thought about it, and it still seemed like a good plan. “My mother would love to talk to you. She’s a scholar – she’ll have you describing your village and your family and your history, and she’ll write it all down. My little brother is a brat, but once you’re moving again, he’ll make you play with him. We’ll feed you, you’re so small I don’t imagine you’ll eat more than a haunch or so of goat at a time, and let your ankle mend. You’ll be safe.”
Mava stared at Loreth, thinking. She looked around into the dark, stared at the expanse of underbrush she’d popped out of, where the bandits had been not too long ago, then nodded. “All right. I can come back after I’m healed.” She looked down and Loreth heard her mutter, “And if your family eats me after all, it’s still better than being caught by the bandits again.”
Loreth didn’t say anything. She was large and fierce, and Mava was small and delicate. It was logical that it’d take Mava some time to trust her. Loreth could wait.
She was cutting her hoard search short, but Mava needed help. She was a person, even if she wasn’t a dragon; Loreth hoped her mother and Loremaster Cashell would understand, and let her go out again.
Well, they’d have to, wouldn’t they? You couldn’t be a dragon without a hoard, and every hoard had a first item. Even if she got a scolding, it’d work out.
# # #
It took some few minutes to convince Mava that she could ride safely in Loreth’s hands. When Mava objected to riding so near Loreth’s long, sharp claws, Loreth showed her how much longer and sharper they were when she retracted her forefingers. That didn’t help.
“Couldn’t I ride on your back?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. My neck is too big for you to wrap your fore- or hindlimbs around it, so you’d fall off as soon as I moved. And when I flew, your feet would be right above my shoulder muscles, which move very strongly, so your broken ankle would be pushed back and forth the whole time.”
Mava’s face turned an odd color at the thought, but she abandoned the idea of riding on Loreth’s back.
“I’m very strong. I can carry an elk buck for hours, and you’re much lighter than an elk. Come on, sit in my hands.” She made a cradle of her fingers and lowered them to the ground.
It took more coaxing, but eventually Mava was settled. Before she could change her mind, Loreth crouched down and launched herself into the air. Mava screamed, but the sound was mostly drowned out by the thundering beats of Loreth’s wings, and soon enough they were gliding smoothly.
She felt Mava relax, slowly. Eventually, the human leaned, slowly and carefully, enough to look out over Loreth’s fingers at the land below.
“It’s like a patch-quilt! And look, there’s Strawfield! That’s my village!”
“What? Where?” Loreth craned her neck to look where Mava pointed. “That clearing?” She circled back around and came in, low and slow.
It was a big open spot in the grassland, with a lot of bare dirt, as though the ground were blighted. Big trees with spreading, grassy crowns were scattered and clumped through it, and bare branches lay here and there. Nothing moved. “I saw a lot of those clearings when I flew out. I thought they were just… clearings. What are those strange trees? They don’t grow anywhere else.”
“Trees?” Mava leaned over again, this time bracing herself against one of Loreth’s curving fingers. Then she laughed. “They do look like trees from here! They’re the roofs of the cottages. We cover them with thatch – dried speargrass. It sheds the rain, and helps keep the inside warm. A little.”
“Ahh. My mother will want to hear about that.” She circled the village again and said, “Where is everyone? Did the bandits kill them all?”
Mava stopped laughing. “No. Everyone’s hiding. You flew over yesterday. We saw you coming, and everyone hid.”
“Ahh.”
There seemed no more to say, so Loreth turned toward home once more and climbed, searching for winds to help her along.
# # #
Flying straight, it wasn’t so far back home as it had been flying out. They had to land a few times a day so Mava could drink, and go hide behind a bush or a rock to eliminate. Once or twice a day Loreth hunted, and brought back a sheep, a deer, and later on a goat. It turned out Mava ate much less than a haunch of goat at each meal; feeding her would be no hardship. Although her teeth couldn’t manage the meat raw, so that was more time each day to build a fire and roast the meat.
Loreth liked roasted meat very well, so that was no hardship either, when it came right to it.
As large as her home mountains were, the world was larger still, and it took her three days to find the right stretch of mountain. Once oriented, she found her way home in less than a day. She circled their forecourt a few times, cracking her wings loudly as she passed over.
Her mother came out of the cavern, followed by Loremaster Cashell, with Brathell tumbling after, calling and waving. He leapt into the air and flew up to her, orbiting her in tight circles several times, staring at Mava.
“What’s that? Did you catch it? Are we going to eat it? It looks skinny! What is it?”
Loreth called, “Hush, brat, you’re being rude!” She glided down and made a light landing in front of the forecourt, setting Mava down carefully. Mava didn’t seem minded to go anywhere; she pressed against Loreth’s foreleg as though she thought she could hide behind it. Loreth could feel how tense she was, her body tight and unmoving.
“Mother, Loremaster Cashell, this is Mava. She’s a human.”
“I know she’s a human, dear,” said her mother. She had an odd, proud-exasperated expression on her face. “Hello, Mava. Be welcome.”
“Mava, this is my mother, Mireth, and Loremaster Cashell.”
She looked down at Mava, who was still clinging to her foreleg. She waved, though, and said, “Hello,” in a small voice. Good enough.
“I know this isn’t traditional,” she said. “But Mava is injured and needs care. She’s healing, and she eats very little. I’m sure she’ll be no trouble. May I leave her with you while I go back on my Hoard Search? I’ll take her back home with me when I return, I promise.”
Mava squeaked, clinging more tightly to Loreth’s foreleg. “What? No! You didn’t say you’d leave me! The little one wants to eat me!”
“If he does, I’ll smack him till his brains rattle,” said Loreth, glaring at Brathell. “He didn’t know you were a person. Say you’r
e sorry for scaring her, Brathell.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “You don’t look like a person.”
“He’s a rude little brat,” Loreth said, still glaring, “but he’s not usually evil.”
“Usually?”
“He’s never evil,” said Mireth, the exasperated tone still strong in her voice. “I’m sorry, Mava. They’re brother and sister. I’m sure human siblings are the same way?”
“Ah, yes, ma’am. M’lady?”
“Ma’am will do, dear.”
The Loremaster huffed out a puff of smoke. “All of which is beside the point.” It was his turn to glare, at Loreth. “There’ll be no talk of going back on your search. You’ve returned from your Hoard Search, and you’ve brought something back with you.” He stretched out his long neck, eyeing Mava from another angle.
“What? No! She’s not– that is, I didn’t collect her!”
“Didn’t you, dear?” asked her mother. She turned and called, “Brathell, come inside with me. Loremaster Cashell has to speak with Loreth.”
Even as she herded him inside the cave, Loreth heard him asking, “Why? Is she in trouble? Does she have to be a kid for another year? I bet she’s in trouble!”
Loreth huffed out a small flame in the direction they’d gone, perfectly safe since they were inside the cave and her mother wouldn’t see. Loremaster Cashell would, but if she was already in trouble – and she had a sinking feeling that she was – then that bit of disrespect couldn’t hurt much.
“Wait,” said Mava. “What did she mean, you collected me?”
“Young Loreth was out on her Hoard Search,” said Master Cashell. “She is newly adult, and was searching for the first item with which to begin her hoard. It is a very important decision for a young dragon to make. She has returned with you.”
“No!” protested Loreth. “I didn’t know! I mean, you can’t collect humans! They’re people! You don’t collect people!”
“Most dragons do not,” said the loremaster. “But some do indeed collect people. Your mother answers to Lady Yarroweth, who does, in a sense, collect people. She has quite a lot of dragons in her hoard, including you, and it’s her responsibility to care for them.”
“Well and fine,” said Loreth. “But I’m not a lady.”
“How do you think Yarroweth got to be a lady?”
“I… don’t know. I suppose her mother was a lady. The histories say…” Loreth trailed off, realizing that none of the dragon histories had described how ladies and lords became so. The human histories had spoken of their rulers passing rulership to their children. The gnomes also chose rulers that way, usually. She’d just assumed dragons did the same thing.
“The histories you’ve read say nothing, because you were a child. We guard the truth of the Hoard Search from children so as not to taint the results. We send you after something that calls to your heart. When you return with it, we see what you have, and can tell what you should do with your adulthood. Your mother brought a book; she is a scholar. Your father brought a gem; he is a jeweler. You brought a person; you are a lady.”
Mava hobbled out and stood before Loremaster Cashell, hands on her hips, with her arms cocked out, doubtless to make herself look bigger. She stared up at him very bravely, although Loreth saw she was trembling very slightly.
“What do you mean by ‘lady?’ Does that mean Loreth is going to rule you all when your Lady Yarroweth is gone? Or take over for her right now?”
“No, Mava. She is going to rule you. For now. I’m sure she’ll find others. You are her responsibility. She’ll care for you, and ensure you have a good life.”
“What, like a pet? I’m a person, not a dog!”
“Pets are owned. Persons are ruled. Finding out what you need to be happy, or at least content, is her task now.”
Mava tilted her head, then swiveled around to look at Loreth. “All right, then. I accept.”
“What?” Loreth stretched her neck out until her head was right in front of Mava’s. “Did you hit your head?”
“I was going to ask you anyway, when I’m well, if you’d take me back to Strawfield and help chase off the bandits. You could do it without much trouble. I heard their bows – they shot at you – and you weren’t hurt at all when you came back to me on the hilltop. You could help me get my village back. I was going to ask you,” she repeated.
“Well, of course. The bandits are very bad at their banditing. They should be chased off to go learn better.”
Mava laughed, a frightened note threaded through the humor. “Yes, well, that’s up to you. So long as you help rescue the folks who are left, you can do what you like with the bandits. Maybe your little brother could come and eat them.”
“Do not encourage that!”
“But if I’m your responsibility, and you’re going to collect more people, you could collect us! The rest of us! You could stay with us, and protect us. You can’t just jam a whole village full of people – or even… even half a village…” She paused and sucked in a long breath. “Half a village in a cave. So you’d have to come to us. You could protect us, since all the men are gone. And… and since you have to make us happy, you couldn’t be a cruel lady, or a thoughtless one, or a greedy one! You have to do a good job. Isn’t that right?” She turned and looked to Loremaster Cashell.
“Quite right,” he said, his ears twitching with amusement.
“Well then!” Mava grinned, showing stubby little fangs. “That’d be better than what we had before! Our lord – our human lord – is off fighting the king’s war in Toussignant. He just marched off with his soldiers, leaving a handful of old farts to guard his keep and leaving all his folk to be prey for bandits. You’ll do a better job, and when he gets back, he can just try to take us back from you!”
Loreth looked at Loremaster Cashell, her thoughts swirling, feeling like something was horribly wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
“Loreth, you don’t want to discard her, do you?” asked the Loremaster.
“What? No!”
“You want to keep her. Your heart knows she’s the beginning of your hoard.”
Well… yes. She did want to keep Mava. The human’s family was gone, or most of it. Why couldn’t she stay? Loreth’d even thought of going to fetch her mother and sisters, their children, and bringing them back. Her new cave was big enough, and she thought she could persuade Mava to it, by the time her ankle healed.
But if it was possible, if Mava was willing – if the other folk of her village would agree to it – then… yes, having a whole collection, a whole hoard of humans to organize and look after did make her heart happy.
“Do you think the other humans will agree?” she asked.
“They’ll take some convincing,” said Mava. “I was afraid of you at first, remember. But they’re in a horrible mess, and I could persuade them. In fact, if you could go soon? The trip here was fine, once I got used to it. We could go back, you could chase off the bandits, maybe squish a few of them with your great feet if you don’t want to eat them, then I could explain to everyone. We could try.”
Loreth looked at Loremaster Cashell. He tilted his ears forward and ducked his head just a bit. “Lady Loreth,” he said. “You have a hoard to collect, and organize, and care for.”
“So I do,” she said, straightening. She looked back down slope of the mountains, toward the woods, and the grassland. It was far, so much farther from home than the cave she’d chosen. But that’s where her hoard was. “We’ll eat, and have a night’s sleep, then we’ll be off.”
“As you wish, Lady Loreth,” said Cashell.
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A frequent contributor to the Fiction River anthologies and Pulphouse Fiction Magazine, Annie Reed’s recent young adult stories include Blame It On the Ghosts, and Sophie Rosenblatt, Hero at Large. Annie is also one of the founding members of the innovative Uncollected Anthology, a series of themed urban fantasy stories written by some of the best writers
working today. For information on Annie's latest projects and upcoming releases, visit www.annie-reed.com
About this story, Annie says: “When I sat down to write this story, I’d just finished listening to Neil Gaiman narrate his wonderful YA fantasy novel, The Graveyard Book, and had his marvelous reading voice planted firmly in my head. I also had part of the title to the story – a most unserious – but I didn’t have the rest. But when I actually typed the words ‘a most unserious’ on the top of page one, what came out next was ‘dragon,’ and that’s how Mordived the dragon was born. I had such fun writing about Mordived and his adventures that I later wrote a sequel, A Most Romantic Dragon.”
Mordived reminds me of the Christmas elf who wanted to be a dentist (from the old film, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer). Finding your place in the world when everyone else has defined it for you can be a huge challenge – particularly when your interests run in a different direction.
A Most Unserious Dragon
Annie Reed
Dragons, or so Mordived’s father told him often and most sternly, were very serious creatures.
“Our birthright is to rule the land,” Mordived’s father said, his chest puffed out proudly and little wisps of steam escaping his nostrils. “Ruling is serious business. Men believe they rule the kingdoms, but true power belongs to the dragons. Slaying knights is our duty, and eating virgins our reward for such serious business.”
“But I don’t want to slay knights and eat virgins,” Mordived said.
Even eating cattle gave Mordived indigestion. He could only imagine what eating an entire virgin would do to his digestive system. As for knights, all that shiny silver armor gave him headaches.
Mordived’s father stomped his foot so hard that the ground trembled and the walls of their cave shook. Little rocks and frightened bats tumbled from the ceiling, the bats fluttering deeper into the cave and the rocks pelting Mordived and his father on their wings. His father didn’t seem to notice.
