by Patty Jansen
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The Dragon King
A Capricornica Publication / 2018
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © 2018 by Patty Jansen
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PUBLISHED IN AUSTRALIA
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
Author’s Mailing List
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Chapter 1
* * *
A CUP OF HOT TEA was a risky thing to carry on a boat even if this boat only rocked gently. The tea was still hot enough that the heat was spreading to the handle on the metal mug.
So Nellie held the steaming cup through the sleeve of her dress as she carried it out of the cabin onto the deck.
The riverboat had been travelling slowly since escaping the harbour of Saardam the previous afternoon, and the silent, oppressive night had made way for a pale morning.
Through the cold and misty night, the water had lapped gently against the bow, and the ship had rocked softly in the current and with the movement of the sea cows in the harness. They’d stopped briefly to allow the animals to rest, but kept going again as soon as it was light enough to see, because they were refugees and Nellie had no doubt that someone would come after them, if not to recapture the prisoners then to take back the shiny Guentherite order’s riverboat they had stolen.
But, so far, the trip was peaceful, and it was assuring to think all was well with the world and that the journey out of the city would lead to safety.
The cabins were spacious and luxurious, but so many people were in the group that it was cramped on board anyway. They hadn’t planned on taking quite so many people—people like Madame Sabine, who demanded her own room, or the hapless monk Brother Martinus who had been unfortunate enough to be on board when Nellie and Mina climbed onto the deck.
Nellie had bandaged Martinus’ head from where she had knocked him unconscious with a broom, and apologised profusely.
At least it was relatively warm. There was a stove on the far end of the main cabin and plenty of wood to burn.
The children and a few prisoners who were unwell took the benches, which would normally be used by monks studying scripture. Some others were so tired that they slept on the deck, but Nellie had only dozed while seated leaning against the wall. It might be warm inside the cabin, but the deck was cold, and she kept sagging sideways. The cabin was full of the noise of people snoring and children talking.
On top of that, she worried about pursuers and kept an ear tuned for shouts drifting in from outside. But it had been quiet all night, and when she came to the deck with the tea, it was still quiet.
The ship was indeed very pretty. The wood was gleaming dark, the railings polished, the windows and portholes clean and covered with red curtains. The deck was scrubbed, and a strip of tar and sand ran just inside the railing so you didn’t slip when walking there. The mooring ropes lay neatly coiled on the deck.
Henrik stood on top of the wheelhouse. He had his hands in his pockets and looked vigilantly over the countryside as it passed.
He noticed Nellie and smiled at her.
“Here’s tea for you,” she said. “Drink up before it gets cold.”
“Thank you.”
Nellie set the cup down and climbed up the ladder to the roof. “Anything to see?” she asked as he warmed his hands on the tea. They were big hands, too, with hair on his fingers. His nails were clean, which was always a good sign that a man looked after himself.
“It’s been very quiet,” he said. He sipped from the tea.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“You would think so. Although I would have expected someone to follow us.”
Nellie turned around and let her gaze roam over the misty fields and the churning expanse of the river, completely empty.
Frost dusted the grass and the bare branches of the willow trees that grew by the riverbanks. With the recent rain, most of the reed beds were flooded. Patches of ice stuck to the dead stems to show that the level of the river had been even higher.
“It might take them a little while to get a ship organised, now that we’ve taken theirs,” Nellie said. “But they’ll come after us.”
“You would think so,” Henrik said.
“What are you saying?”
“Trouble might wait for us further up the river. They don’t pursue us because they know we’ll be stopped further upstream.”
Could that be? “What makes you think that?”
“The Regent regularly sends patrols out to the borders. If they’ve gotten word to them, they’ll be waiting for us.”
That was a worrying thought. “How can we find out who they are and where they hide?” Henrik might know that, being a palace guard.
But he didn’t. “The men who get sent out here have nothing to do with the palace guards,” he said. “They’re rough and unsavoury types and, most often, they’re sent because they need to be taught a lesson. The Guard Commander gives them their orders, and they carry them out by any means available. If they want a post in the city—and most of them do—they have to provide ‘evidence’ that their orders were carried out satisfactorily. The orders often involve hunting down and killing criminals, and the evidence consists of items that the thief would never be without. Ears. Hands. Feet. That sort of thing.”
Nellie shuddered. “Would they do that to a group of women and children?”
“I don’t know. These are not civilised men, and we don’t want to run into them. I don’t know where they are. They consist of nimble teams of a few men and horses each. They travel around and go where they’re needed.”
Nellie knew one way of finding out if trouble lay ahead: magic. They could use water magic by checking what was going on upstream, and wind magic if the wind came from that direction.
Except none of the “witches” who were in the cabin of the ship, after having escaped being drowned for witchcraft, were real magicians in possession of any useful magic. In fact, the only person who had any magic on board the ship was a six-year-old girl.
She asked, “So what can we do?”
“I think the closer we come to Aroden, the more likely it is that we’ll run into the Regent’s patrols. As soon as they see this ship, they’ll know we have no business being on it.”
“We can dress up as monks.”
“Do we have enough habits
for everyone?”
Nellie didn’t know. On a first inspection of the ship, she had seen some cupboards that might contain clothing, but she had been too busy to check the contents.
She said, “We can simply tell them why we’re here: because we want to leave town, and the Order lent us the boat because the monks needed to pick up produce from the farm.”
“I don’t think that story will have any legs,” Henrik said. “They’ll know that not even ordinary monks get to travel on this ship, let alone people who are not monks. I don’t know that Brother Martinus is going to cooperate and tell outsiders that we’re real monks.”
No, that was probably true.
Brother Martinus was an unfortunate complication. Apart from having a sore head, he had also quietly pointed out that he was now a prisoner of theirs. If any of the Regent’s men questioned him, it was likely that he would tell the true story.
“Would the mercenaries know that the Regent has died?”
“Probably not, but telling them may not have the desired effect. If the Regent is dead, the men are free from their obligations to the city guard and whoever sent them out here as punishment. They’ve now got weapons, and a ship with people they can rob has just arrived.”
“Really? Would they do that?”
“They’re not nice men. We should avoid talking to them or getting close to them.”
“And these men work for the Regent? I thought they would need to be honourable.”
“In the city, yes, but out here, it’s about survival.”
Nellie shivered. Henrik had placed his empty cup on the roof of the cabin and continued studying the riverbanks.
If they encountered those men, what could they do to prepare? Most people could hide below the deck, and a few of them could dress up as monks. With a bit of luck, the guards would recognise Gisele as a regular monk and would let them through.
Henrik changed the subject. “How is everyone down there?”
“Most of them are still asleep, thankfully,” Nellie said.
“No more complaining?” He referred to Madame Sabine’s demands about sleeping space.
“They’re too tired for that.”
“Today will be interesting.”
“Yes.” She didn’t need to say any more.
After escaping from the harbour, the full implications of what they had done had dawned on her. The group of supposed witches whom they had rescued from the harbour didn’t just include the people they had wanted to rescue. It included a captured monk, and the Regent Bernard’s wife, Madame Sabine.
Having gone for a bath in the ice-cold water of the harbour, Madame Sabine had been too shaken to cause any trouble last night. She had even consented to taking off her clothes so that Agatha and Gertie could dry them in the galley, and she had sat quietly with the other women under the blanket, her face pale and her pretty hair dripping with dirty harbour water.
This blissful state of silence would not last forever. Soon she would start making demands.
Once they came to the village where Nellie’s family lived, how would those villagers react to having this noble foreign woman imposed on them?
No, Nellie was not looking forward to that at all.
“What about our monk?” Henrik asked.
Nellie shuddered. She could still feel the thud of the broom in her hands hit the poor man’s head, and could see him crumpling on the deck. By the Triune, she’d hit a monk. “He’s been quiet too.”
“Has Gisele seen him yet?”
“Briefly. I don’t think they knew each other well.”
The discovery that one of the monks who had served in the palace was female and not even a monk had shaken him. Henrik worked for the guards, and the guards were supposed to have picked up things like this.
Nellie suspected that in the next couple of days, Henrik’s belief in the infallibility of the guards would be badly shaken. Another thing she was not looking forward to.
“That girl disturbs me,” Henrik said. “It seems like she is propelled by magic. I don’t know that she ever sleeps.”
Gisele had admitted to Nellie that she had some sort of affinity with magic, although Nellie didn’t quite understand what she had meant by being an anti-magician. The amount of knowledge about magic that was routinely ignored in Saardam disturbed her. It was why they were in a bad situation like this.
It was why no one had realised that Shepherd Wilfridus was a powerful magician.
It was why the royal family had been killed.
She said, “Gisele is not a bad person.”
“Maybe not, but very strange one.”
Someone else had come on deck. Or maybe the small figure with a blanket around him, seated on the roof of the main cabin, had been there all the time. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest, huddled in the blanket, as he quietly observed the passing riverbank.
Prince Bruno looked very much like a child.
“He doesn’t look like much,” Henrik said, seeing Nellie look at the boy. “I thought he was fourteen.”
“He is fourteen. I’m not sure where he has spent most of his life. It could be that he has been malnourished in that prison all the time. He might never even have seen any of this.” She waved her hand at the scenery.
“True. Poor boy.”
Nellie climbed off the cabin, leaving Henrik to his guard duty, and went onto the roof of the main cabin.
Prince Bruno turned his head when he noticed her. His eyes were dark and hollow, his face pale. His chin sported a bruise.
Nellie said to him, “You should be down on the deck, resting.”
He said nothing, so she sat down next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t react to her touch at all, so she let it slide off. It was as if he had forgotten the times he’d sat on her lap while she’d read him stories.
After a short silence, he asked, “Where is Saarland?”
That was a strange question.
“This is Saarland.” She waved her hand at the river and the riverbank and the trees and a few cows that were grazing peacefully.
“Is it very big?”
“No. Saarland is a small country, but it is quite important. We have an important port city.”
And there she stopped, because these questions were strange, indeed. Why did it matter how big Saarland was?
In the previous few days, Prince Bruno had not spoken more than a few words. Admittedly, there had not been the time to sit down and talk.
She continued, “What have you been told? That it’s a very big country?”
“Important,” he said, as if fixating on that word. His face took on a solemn expression as he said that. It was a strange situation.
Nellie hugged herself. It was cold up here and now the breeze was coming up. The topic of the conversation was unsettling, too.
“So where are the people?” he asked.
“Most of the people live in Saardam,” Nellie said.
“But what about the farms with rich houses and many crops and animals?”
“There are farms behind these levies.” Although she wouldn’t call them rich.
She had no idea where he was going with this discussion.
He squinted at the riverbanks, but in this part of the river they were high enough that you couldn’t see over them even from the top deck of the riverboat.
Inside the cabin underneath them, people were talking—mostly children, but a woman replied. It sounded like Agatha, who would be responsible for making breakfast.
Nellie had better go down to check. “Why don’t you come down to get some breakfast?” she asked Bruno. The galley was well stocked, and they had plenty of grain for making porridge.
Prince Bruno gave her a blank look.
“Are you hungry?”
That seemed to do the trick, because he rose. Nellie hadn’t seen the dragon box underneath his blanket, but he picked it up and carried it with him.
He slid off the sloping roof and went in the
direction of the cabin door.
Nellie was left by herself, feeling a distinct chill inside. Whatever she had hoped this young boy might do, she wasn’t sure if any of it would come to fruition. His ordeal might have been too damaging and left him too strange to behave normally. Too strange to resurrect the royal family. Too strange to sit on the throne.
And that brought with it a set of disturbing memories.
Henrik’s arrow had gone straight into the Regent’s heart, and the man was surely dead. She hated to think the chaos it would have brought to the city. Who was going to take over from the Regent?
Nellie found Gisele and young Koby at the stern of the boat. They looked like they were having a great time, talking and laughing. They both turned around when Nellie came.
“Oh, good morning,” Gisele said.
Koby smiled. “Look, Nellie, she is teaching me how to look after the sea cows.”
Indeed, Gisele had been drawing a figure on the captain’s note slate which showed the beams, how the beams were attached, and where to put the cows, including notes about dominant animals and where to put them, and males and females.
“Do you have any experience with this?” Nellie asked her.
“I did all of this work when I worked as ship’s boy.” There was no limit to the experiences of this strange woman.
And Nellie wasn’t sure whether she could entirely be trusted. “Have you seen anything unusual so far?”
“It’s been as quiet as death,” Gisele said.
Nellie was sure she intended the ominous tone to the statement. Gisele was not afraid and didn’t speak of death and misfortune in hushed tones.
“We might need to rest the cows for a while,” Nellie said. “The current is strong, and they will be tired.”
“If we can find a safe spot to anchor. Most of the jetties are flooded, and if I’d seen a place to rest, I would have stopped.”
Yes, Gisele must be tired, having sat here through the night.
Nellie said, “I’ll have a quick breakfast and then I’ll come up to relieve you.”
She went down from the roof through the side door of the galley.
