Heart of Dragons

by Meg Cowley

  I didn't sleep for months, did I? The ridiculous thought assailed her. Yet it seemed marginally less far-fetched than any other explanation she could think of.

  Harper propped herself up on an arm. She rubbed her hand across her eyes and her pounding forehead with a groan.

  The Dragonheart lay beside her in a circle of charred greenery and blackened earth.

  "What happened?"

  When she dared touch the stone, Harper quickly snatched back her hand, but this time, the bottom of the world didn't drop away from her. She reached out with shaking fingers to rest her hand atop the stone again. Smooth facets, sharp edges, and rough planes grazed her skin.

  "What happened? Where am I?" she whispered. A familiar tingle of fear grew inside her, constricting her chest, the bubbling anxiety threatening to overwhelm her.

  Harper's body cried out with tiredness, and her mind was utterly addled. After working all day, the last thing she needed was to find a Dragonheart and, in the blink of an eye, be transported to what seemed like an entirely different place.

  "Okay, Harper," she said to herself in the calmest voice she could muster, even though she wanted to scream. She stood on shaky legs and picked up the Dragonheart. "Whatever madness this is, you can handle it."

  Twelve

  The growl of Harper's stomach overtook her curiosity. When had she last eaten? She could barely remember. Some rushed snack at the inn, leftovers from a customer’s plate. Not enough to sustain her shaking, exhausted frame.

  I might be able to forage, or find someone with provisions.

  She examined herself with a sigh. Stains covered her from head to toe. Her cloak was completely sodden from the snow, right through to her clothes. The cold, clammy fabric clung to her skin, stealing what little warmth the sun afforded her.

  As she looked around, it was clear it was still late summer or early autumn, though it seemed far milder in comparison. Many of the trees were still green and lush, some just beginning to turn to yellow. It seemed painfully bright and colourful compared to even the finest days in her dreary corner of Caledan.

  Where am I?

  There was nothing for it. She was quite clearly in the middle of nowhere. No matter how hard she strained her ears, she heard no trace of civilisation.

  "Pick a direction,” she muttered, turning in a circle. Judging from the slope of the ground, she seemed to be on top of a hill, though she could not see much of the horizon for all the trees crowding around. No visible paths led in any direction. She scanned the trees. No breaks that might signal a road.

  Through the trees, she did see mountains soaring into the heights of the sky. Harper frowned. There aren't any mountains like this at home. She swallowed again, forcing down the nerves that threatened to boil over. "Just out for a walk, Harper." With your Dragonheart.

  "Damn it." She felt in her cloak pocket. Lint, a single copper, and the leather bracelet with a single metal charm that she always kept with her. All my coin is at home. In her box of trinkets and treasures with her precious book. And Betta. How far away am I?

  Her heart sank. She spun around wildly, but still, no familiar points of reference jumped out at her. Where was home? Where were her precious things? Where was her money?

  Harper swallowed, tucked the Dragonheart into the crook of her arm, and drew out her bracelet. The worn leather was smooth, the bead of metal cold. She ran a fingertip lightly over the emblem stamped into it, a circle split by a waving line, wondering as she always did what it meant to the person who had it before her. She had possessed it as long as she remembered. Knowing nothing of her past, it was as close to an heirloom as she had.

  She normally kept it tucked inside her garments so it did not get stolen by one of the many pickpockets and tricksters who frequented the inn or the town. On a whim, she tied it around her bony wrist and took comfort from having something familiar with her in the strange place.

  She chose a random direction and began to walk. The breeze blew the sweet air at her, and she wondered just how far she was from civilisation. There could not be any towns close by. She had not smelt air this clean in years, not unless she went to the depths of the mountain foothills far from the village. There was no pollution on it, a welcome change from the woodsmoke and stench of fish that clogged the air at home.

  As the sound of running water increased, Harper stepped out of the clearing under the shadow of the trees, marveling at their size. Looking much like what she recognised as silver birches, they soared into the heights, standing twice as tall as those at home. Out here, she reckoned they had much better soil.

  Ahead, she saw the sparkle of light through the trees. A small stream. She ran to it, sank to her knees, and cupped her hands so she could scoop up water. She drew in long draughts of it, dipping her hands in several times.

  "It's so sweet!" She laughed incredulously. Far nicer than the tainted water of the river at home. "All rivers lead to the sea... Hopefully I’ll find help first,” she muttered, then followed the trickle of water downhill.

  Before long, the streamside became a track well worn by animals passing. Hopefully human too, she thought. The faintest trace of woodsmoke lingered on the breeze, tugging her downhill. She quickened her step. Fire could only mean one thing. People.

  Thatched roofs came into view through the gradually thinning trees as the decline of the ground levelled out into the valley. Harper’s breath was ragged. Even though she was fit, the descent had been steeper and more strenuous than she had imagined. Her body ached. Not from the walk, but the long day that had preceded it. It crept right up to her neck and stiffened her shoulders, which was not helped by the growing weight of the Dragonheart.

  Harper narrowed her eyes as she looked at the village. Mud and wattle walls, held together by strong, wooden beams, upheld the thick, thatched roofs. There were no streets here, only hard-packed earth paths barely wide enough for a cart to pass. Donkeys and draught horses pulled carts piled high with straw, wood, food, and other wares.

  Her mouth fell open. Atop a cart stood a man...who was clearly no human. He looked like an elf straight from her beloved fantastical tales – pointed ears, slim build, fine features. Slouching in a doorway was a short, stout fellow, as grumpy as she had ever seen, wearing plated leather armour, a wiry beard taking over half his chest.

  Seeing a shadow overhead, she looked up to see a giant woman with the wings of a great bird of prey land behind one of the buildings.

  Harper’s eyes glazed over as she watched the bustle before her, and a whimper escaped her lips. She stopped in the middle of the dirt track.

  At an unintelligible shout behind her, in a tongue she had never heard before, she whirled around. With a squeal, she dived out of the way to save herself from being mowed down by a passing horse and cart.

  As she regained her balance, the village seemed to stop around her. She looked around, seeing everyone turned toward her. Eyes widened. Mouths muttered behind hands. A whisper sounded around her. Brows furrowed.

  A thickset man strode toward her, shouting in a strange tongue and pointing at the Dragonheart, which had tumbled from her grip to land upon the packed earth for all to see.

  "I-I beg your pardon? I'm sorry. I don't understand. Do you speak the Common Tongue?" she stammered.

  Where in Caledan am I? The language didn't sound like anything she had heard before. It definitely was not the Common Tongue. Even if she had not seen the flying woman, the elf, or the strange man, she would have realised she was nowhere near home, but it only made it all the more alien.

  "Common Tongue?" he growled in a strange accent.

  "Yes!" She latched onto the suggestion gratefully. "You speak it, sir?"

  Another man stepped forward, his brows furrowed, a suspicious scowl upon his face as he pointed toward the stone. "Where get you that Heart of Dragons, wench?" His accent was thick, almost too thick to understand, but the source of his anger was clear.

  She quickly picked the stone from the dirt and clut
ched it to her chest. "I-I found it under a tree." She did not mention the fact that that seemed to have been in a different country, though now she began to think it was an entirely different world.

  No need to sound crazy to a bunch of not-even-human strangers, her mind thought with a humourless chuckle.

  "Lies! By the order of the king, all Dragonhearts are held at the citadel!” the man retorted.

  The first man shook his head, his jaw clenched. "What arcane methods did you use to bend it to your will?" he thundered. The crowd advanced on Harper. She took a step back, placing a protective hand upon the stone.

  "She's stolen a Heart of Dragons!" a woman cried from the back of the crowd. The babble of exclamations and accusations, the majority in their strange language, crescendoed.

  "From the very king himself!" another voice shrieked in the Common Tongue

  "Sorcery! Witchcraft!"

  "King save us!"

  "Down with Saradon's ilk!"

  People spat on the ground toward Harper as they continued to cry out in the tongue she could not understand.

  "I didn't steal anything!" she protested, stepping back as heat flooded through her. Suddenly, her cloak felt as though it smothered her as the crowd constricted around her. "It just appeared in the midst of the snowstorm!"

  "What snow? What storm?" the man barked with laughter. "A lie!"

  "No, not here. I—"

  "The thief speaks Common Tongue. What manner of foreigner is she?"

  "Call for the Kingsguard at once!"

  Harper backed away, completely baffled, but the foreboding growing in the pit of her stomach told her these people would not help her.

  A soldier appeared ahead, drawn by the clamour. He wore leather armour and chainmail, his polished helmet gleaming in the sun. Yet the emblem upon his breast was not the fish and spear of Lord Denholme.

  Harper turned and fled. The mob gave chase.

  Thirteen

  Harper raced back into the woods, continuing down the hill. She ran so quickly, she almost careened out of control. Her legs juddered with every impact on the hard ground. The roar of the mob behind her spurred her on, the fear of being caught far outweighing her fear of tripping on the uneven ground. She leapt over exposed roots, and low branches whipped past her face. She cared not when they tangled in her hair, ripping out strands as she dashed past.

  Her muscles screamed as she pushed them harder, leaping from one step to the next. She came upon a road that was barely more than a track, following the same direction. She took to it gratefully and sped up, knowing her head start would soon be gone. She chanced a look behind her. Some were far too close for comfort.

  With her head tucked into her chest, she continued, dodging off the other side of the road and through the trees to camouflage herself as best she could, until the terrain forced her back onto the road where her pursuers were even closer than before, but hampered by having to scramble down a precipitous embankment. She bit back a curse and turned forward again.

  Smack.

  "Oof!" Harper sprawled to the ground, her body smarting from the force of the impact and her breath knocked from her. She blinked and sat up, gasping. “What in Caledan...”

  "Watch where you're going, foreigner!" A hand yanked her to her feet.

  She gaped, finding herself face to face with one of the most attractive men she had ever laid eyes on. When he peered past her at the advancing mob, she caught a glimpse of pointed ears.

  An elf?!

  She couldn't stop staring. His tanned skin radiated life and vibrancy, and his green, slanted eyes were mysterious, unfathomable pools under a tousled shock of dark gold, wavy hair. He was lithe and muscled, the tone that came with athletic endurance, and his perfectly fitted clothes enhanced his sculpted form. He wore a light shirt with green embellishing the collar and cuffs, ivy leaves chasing themselves around the edges.

  His chest strained under his leather jerkin as he breathed heavily. Harper could not help but linger over the faded gold embossing upon it, the scratches and gashes that marred the once beautiful design. Her eyes crept down to his legs. Muscled thighs were bound in pants that looked far too tight to run in, and his light leather boots looked perfect for a silent hunt through the forest.

  "Did you hear what I said?" he snapped.

  She blinked. "Sorry. What?”

  "Don't you know not to bother someone when he's being chased?" He bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously, longing to be off.

  "I'm in the same boat myself."

  "Hey. Is that a Dragonheart?" he added incredulously.

  She gathered the now dusty object into her arms again. "What?”

  He pointed to the stone.

  “Yes, and I don't have time for this. Good day!" Harper started to push past him, but he grabbed her arm.

  "Not that way. Tons of guards I'm guessing you don't want to run into. Seems we can escape together and ask questions later. How's that sound?"

  Harper turned. She could now see the whites of their eyes. "Sounds good!" she squeaked.

  Together, they leapt off the road and crashed through the forest, tumbling down the hill in their haste to escape. Harper only had a second to wonder what this handsome stranger was being chased for before she had to give all her attention to the uneven ground ahead.

  Harper could not tell whether the crashing was them barreling through the bush or their followers trampling behind, but she didn't care. The stranger did not let go of her hand as he dragged her along, somehow making her go even faster than before. Even more strange, she seemed more sure-footed, avoiding the worst of the rolls and hillocks in the earth that would have otherwise sent her sprawling, probably breaking bones in the process.

  His hand crushed hers until it hurt, but she did not complain or let go, fuelled by the last dregs of her adrenaline and fear. What would happen if they caught her? She had no doubt it wouldn't be good.

  "Did you steal that Dragonheart?" he fired at her, somehow managing to keep running whilst looking at her.

  She spared him a glance. "No!" It was all she had the breath to reply. She scowled at his raised eyebrow. Fine. Don't believe me. What do I care! Curiosity got the better of her – as usual. “Why does everyone think that?”

  "Well, it's usually the case. No offense, but you're clearly not from the Kingsguard. You’re not a dragon-rider or one of the king’s people. Besides that, you're speaking Common Tongue with the most strange accent. If you're speaking so, that means you're not native to Pelenor! Which leads me to believe the Dragonheart isn't yours. Where in Altarea are you from?"

  He looked pleased with himself when Harper gaped.

  "So, did you steal it?" he asked again when she did not answer. He looked excited by the prospect, as though bursting with more questions.

  "No!" she gasped, exasperated and breathless. "Look, it's a long story, and now really isn't the time."

  "Well, come on then. The sooner we lose them, the sooner I can hear this tale." He pulled her faster. Trees and shrubs raced by, and the mossy carpet underfoot put an extra spring in their step as they approached a break in the trees. Rays of sun flashed through the canopy above them, half-blinding her with every step.

  "Almost there!" he called cheerfully. "Never let it be said that I didn't help a damsel in distress...and her Dragonheart."

  Harper scowled. This man...elf...whatever...was starting to grate on her, or perhaps it was the frustrations of a long, hard day. No matter. She had just about had it with whatever was happening. Her mysterious companion tugged her in another direction, altering their course slightly.

  The gaps between the trees widened. Harper could see the flash of blue ahead and forested mountains behind it. A lake!

  The elf did not slow as he approached the edge of the trees. Harper tried to tug him back, but he pulled her forward inexorably. She couldn't see the edge of the lake, which meant...

  The trees ended abruptly, and the cliff edge loomed. Before she could protest, he sp
ed up, tugging her with him, and leapt off the cliff with her in tow.

  Harper screamed as the ground fell away beneath her. There was barely a moment to take a gulp of air before they plunged into the blue depths.

  The frigid water forced the air from Harper's lungs and she flailed, panicking, as her mouth instinctively opened to draw breath where there was only water. Her cloak bloomed around her, tangling and folding in upon her. She clutched the stone tighter, the weight dragging her down.

  His hand tightened around hers and he pulled her upward. When they broke the surface, she gulped in great shuddering breaths, letting out a sob of belated shock. Panic flooded her, leaving her unable to take a full breath as she kicked her legs and thrashed her arms, trying to stay afloat.

  "No time for that. Swim, quickly.”

  “I can’t swim!” she shrieked.

  He pulled her alongside him and broke into a fast stroke that sliced through the frigid water. Above them, the cliff face soared, limestone pockmarked by weather and crushed by the roots of the trees that clung precariously to the top.

  Panic overcame Harper once more. She struggled for a moment in the elf's grasp as the cloak wrapped around her legs before she kicked it loose, pulled forward by him.

  Shouts sounded above them as the mob gathered at the edge of the cliff, but no one followed them into the water. The elf angled for a small, rocky cove at the base of the cliff, the perfect escape where no one could follow unless they jumped into the lake. She shot a glance at the elf as he swam toward it, his brows drawn down in grim determination.

  Who is he?

  "Welcome to your getaway."

  She looked around, wondering what on earth he was on about. The cove was tiny and a dead end. No caves or tunnels. No way up the cliff. The only way out lay across the huge stretch of water.

  I don't have a better plan. Might as well trust this maniac. She resigned herself to the fact nothing made sense anymore.

  They scrambled from the shallows, water streaming from them. Compared to the cold water, the air felt warm. Harper's teeth chattered all the same, chilled to her very bones. On all fours, she clambered through the shallows, the sharp rocks cutting her hands, her cloak catching on every sharp edge, yanking her backwards.