Ice & Smoke

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by Elizabeth Belyeu


  "As Your Highness wishes," Braith said, with a more obvious sneer than I had thought a dragon's scaly face could make. He took to the air with a great rush of wings, despite the tattered bloody edge of one, and had settled back to the top of the tower before Gareth and I reached the stable.

  "I don't think Firefoot is hurt, but look him over, and stay with him awhile," I said to Gareth, suspecting both instructions to be unnecessary. "I'm going to go speak with Braith."

  Inside the tower, I found Genevieve setting dinner on the table. Usually Elaysius would help her—a full-body endeavor for so small a knight, but he was not afraid of toil. "Where has Elaysius gone off to?"

  Genevieve brushed off my question with irritation, trying to ask me a question of her own—gesturing in the direction of the forest, where she had doubtless heard Braith's roaring.

  "All is well enough, Genevieve," I said. "I will tell you more, presently." I gathered a few medical materials and climbed the stairs.

  I was surprised to find Braith in human form when I climbed through the trapdoor, wincing as he examined the long scratch on his arm—what had been an injured wing. At my approach he huffed a breath toward the darkening sky, as if praying for patience.

  "And what do you want, princess?"

  I fidgeted, the words withering in the face of such a reception. "To thank you," I managed after an awkward pause. "Firefoot is a silly old thing, but… we do grow so attached to the horses…"

  "Oh, he's a pet, is he? I'm disappointed, I thought I was retrieving my dinner."

  I glared at him. "I hope that is your idea of a joke. Let me tend that." I reached for his arm, but he pulled it away.

  "I have no need of tending."

  "It's not going to stop bleeding simply because you glower at it."

  "Give me a bandage, then, to put on myself."

  I rolled my eyes and did so, watching with arms folded while he struggled with it. With any other patient, I would have insisted on cleaning the wound, but Rindargeth had told me that the heat of a dragon's body prevented infection. "I know little enough of medicine, but more than any other here. It's my help you'll be needing, eventually, so you might as well resign yourself."

  "Or simply have the good sense not to get injured." He had finally succeeded in pinning the bandage about his arm.

  "Yes, you've clearly exercised that good sense already," I could not help pointing out.

  "For which you owed me thanks, as I recall? The wolves would have come for you and the stableboy next."

  Because he was right, I bit my tongue on a hot reply. "We are having dinner downstairs."

  "I hardly thought you would do so anywhere else."

  Clenching my teeth, I turned and left without another word. I could hear him following on the stairs, however. Alas.

  Gareth had rejoined us, I saw as I reached the common room, and was regaling Genevieve with the tale of Firefoot's rescue. The surprised and grateful look Genevieve turned on Braith seemed to irritate more than please him. He took a plate, and heaped it with the very last of the fish.

  "Have you no decent meat here?" he said, eyeing the fish suspiciously. "There is a very well-grown cow yonder—"

  "Bessie is for milk. Pray do not touch her." Attempting to alleviate my snappishness, I added, "She fears dragons and their scent puts her off her milk for days."

  "More pets," Braith grumbled. "Yet my father must have eaten something."

  "Your father hunted for himself like any adult of your species. It also pleased him to take a supplementary meal with us, but it will offend none if you choose not to continue the tradition."

  He snorted. "I am certain it would not."

  "Pass the bread, Ari," Gareth said, and I complied. When I glanced up again, it was to see Braith staring at me with his head cocked.

  "Do you have a question, sir?"

  "You are called Ari?"

  "On occasion. Rindargeth…" I refused to let my throat close. "It was his endearment for me, and Gareth picked it up as well."

  "It is a word, aari, in dragon-tongue."

  "Is it?" I was truly startled. Rindargeth had never mentioned that.

  Braith smiled tightly. "It means 'tiny.' Like tinder that cannot support a fire, or an animal that is too small to make a decent meal. It is a word for worthless things."

  Silence reigned at the table. I felt faintly dizzy for a moment, but the weight of the mittens in my pocket comforted me. This dragon knew nothing whatever about Rindargeth's last five years, and I would not allow him to poison the memory of our affection. I lifted my chin.

  "I had not known that, dragon. Tell me, in your tongue, is there a word for one who is rude and spiteful, and not half so clever as he thinks himself?"

  "The word I have heard most often in that context is 'human.'"

  The creature would not be pleased until he had made me lose my temper. "You judge all of mankind so? On what basis?"

  "On the basis of the month after month spent in your company, O earthbound." He made the word an insult. "Nothing is so prevalent in your towns as greed and filth. Oxen are more intelligent and vipers more kindly than all your human kin."

  "Whereas dragons, who are notable for their talents of slaughter and destruction, are paragons of virtue—"

  "No dragon on this earth has destroyed so much as a thatch hut without due provocation and more—"

  "Fie! Babes and livestock provoke?"

  "And how many dragons have died new-hatched or before, their eggs smashed by brave warriors—"

  "Yet your father found it worthwhile to be in human company betimes."

  "My father was a prisoner here, as am I, you arrogant flightless worm! You would do well to think more on your flaws and less on the adoration you are due."

  I leaped to my feet, the crash of my fist making the plates jump in their places. "I would have you leave this table, dragon."

  He laughed. "And yet I would not obey your command. What say you to that?"

  "That your father deserved a better son."

  Now he was the one rising from his chair, far more slowly than my impulsive leap, and unless my eyes betrayed me, smoke was rolling in wisps from off his shoulders. "Only continue as you are, princess, and you will find how little power you hold here."

  "Would your master thank you for harming me?"

  "Would my punishment restore life to your corpse?"

  Genevieve, eyes wide, stood and placed one hand on my chest, the other stretched to Braith's, looking from one to the other with unmistakable pleading.

  Braith let out a long, smoky breath, and spoke more calmly. "You might pay heed to your friend, Ari. Her silence offends none."

  With this he turned and departed the tower.

  Shaking, I resumed my seat. Of my appetite, not a shade remained; after a moment, I divided my remaining dinner between Gareth and Genevieve, and took myself upstairs.

  "Elaysius!"

  "Indeed, my lady." The little blue figure on my bed-post bowed sweepingly, though without his usual energy. "A thousand apologies for mine absence this difficult day, yet I did not trust myself not to call a most premature challenge on the beast."

  I snorted. "You are in good company there. He has earned the wrath of all, I think." I buried my face in my pillows.

  "He shall not harm thee, princess, not while I live. Pray do not laugh," though I had not… aloud. "Never hast thou seen a fairy knight in true combat. Thinkest thou that my people are all helpless before dragons? Foolish I was in my first attack of Rindargeth, but since then for five years hath I considered how I might prevail, should the occasion call. Magics there are that even a dragon cannot stand against. I forbore to test them against Rindargeth, first for thy pleading and then for his own sake, but this fellow…"

  I let Elaysius's words patter against me like the meaningless raindrops they were, until my nerves had calmed. I did not mean to sleep, for there was a hole I wanted very much to dig, but I was next aware of sunrise colors outside the window.


  And screaming.

  I was up the stairs to the top of the tower before I had time to properly open my eyes—it seemed I was running about in my shift as often as not, these days—but what I saw there was enough to overshadow any concern for sleep or dress. The screaming was Braith's, as its volume and inhuman timbre should have told me already, and seemed to come from the greatest extremity of pain. His whole white-scaled body thrashed and writhed in a peculiar, jerking manner—every second or two, he froze entirely, immobile for the space of half a blink, no matter how awkward his position, before resuming motion. During these unnatural pauses, even his breath cut off, and lightning seemed to flicker over his skin.

  "Skies and earth! What—"

  "It shouldst not have done this." Elaysius stood atop the nearest parapet, looking rather pale. "The spell—I suppose it is not strong enough for a creature of such great size."

  "Spell?" I remembered his words the night before. "Elaysius, what have you done?"

  "End this!" Braith's words were hardly recognizable.

  "I shall not," Elaysius cried, "not until thy circle is dispersed."

  "I can't—"

  "Elaysius, what are you doing?"

  "'Twas meant to immobilize only, put the beast in our power that we might force his compliance—this torture was not my intention, princess, yet it might be our one chance..."

  "No, Elaysius, this must end immediately, I will not be party—"

  "Drop the circle, dragon!" Elaysius shouted to Braith, but the only reply was a cry of pain that made me feel ill.

  "Elaysius!"

  "Yet I cannot, princess," the fairy knight hissed, looking quite as ill as myself, "for the spell is contained in that dagger there, and no mortal creature could venture near it now, not and come away breathing!"

  It took me several moments to see the dagger he spoke of—a tiny, fairy-proportionate glint of steel buried in the back of one of Braith's shoulders. Indeed, none could draw near the thrashing dragon now, yet I would not watch this continue.

  "Braith! The splinter in your shoulder!"

  "Princess, I do not think it wise—"

  Too late; Braith had found and clawed the little knife, cruelly scoring his own back in the process. It hit the stones with a tiny, tumbling clink.

  For a moment all was silent, Braith collapsed and gasping on the stones. Then he lifted his head, eyes burning and fixed on Elaysius.

  I threw myself aside of the blast of flame Braith loosed, my scream lost in its roar. Elaysius was not so quick, but after a heart-stilling moment I could see that his azure light was undimmed. Foolish fairy he might be, but not foolish enough to forego the use of a fire-charm when planning to extort a dragon.

  Such a charm, however, was nothing against the teeth and claws now lunging in his direction. Elaysius, already blown from the parapet by the fiery breath, dropped with all speed; he could not hope to outfly a dragon, but he might hide, if he could reach the ground. Braith followed.

  I threw myself around one hind paw as it passed, a decision that later would strike me as entirely mad—yet I had to intervene. Justified as Braith's rage might be, I would not let him kill Elaysius.

  Braith felt my weight on him as we dropped, and quickly shook off my grip. Fortunately, we were close enough to ground by then that my landing was unpleasant, not deadly. I scrambled back to my feet as Braith roared more fire at a blue light streaking through the grass, toward the sea. I ran after, and saw Braith bat Elaysius out of the air. He tumbled through the grass, back toward me. The dragon himself, with his speed and bulk, was forced to rip claws into the earth in order to turn and follow.

  I pounced upon Elaysius, curling my body over him, just as Braith completed his turn and unleashed all his fury.

  One moment of stark terror, another of shrieking pain—and then only silence. Was I dead? Oh, foolish girl, what did you think would happen when you put your body—without even charms or armor—between a dragon and his prey?

  But I was not dead, for suddenly I could hear Elaysius gibbering in my ear, and feel pain along the length of my back. A hand snatched my shoulder, pulling me onto that back, upon which I screamed in startled agony.

  Above me, a pale thing against the sky, stood Braith in his human shape, gasping and huge-eyed. He leaped back at my scream.

  "You're alive!"

  "Aaaugh!" I wrenched myself into a sitting position, clutching Elaysius to my chest. "Oh, it hurts—but you shall not have the fairy—oh I can't breathe—touch me not, dragon—"

  "You cannot walk, fool. Release the pestilence you hold, I'll not harm him for now. We must go back to the tower, if you would have your wounds treated, and you, contemptible thing, get out of my sight!"

  Elaysius wriggled free of my hands and shot away as fast as his wings would flutter, ahead of us to the tower. Braith lifted me and pulled me onto his back.

  I had not been carried so since my tiniest childhood—no, even then I had ridden high on Papa's shoulders. At seventeen years of age, I would fit on no man's shoulders, even Braith's. I was forced to wrap arms around his neck from behind, while he held my legs at his sides. It was all immensely painful and almost equally awkward, and though it kept his touch off my back, I could not imagine the position was proper for any maiden.

  "Am I burned only, or clawed as well?" I asked as we walked, every step a jolt of pain.

  "Burned," he said shortly. "My claws I diverted, with only inches to spare. You are the very most perfect fool! I might well have killed you. Even now you are gravely hurt."

  "I could not stand by. Elaysius is my friend."

  "Your friend held me in torture—"

  "Indeed, and I do not begrudge your wrath, but such was not his intent. The dagger was meant to paralyze only; I think his aim was to hold you prisoner until you agreed to drop the circle."

  "I cannot drop the circle."

  "Yet we would try. What is…?" A wet feeling against my chest caused me to look down, and see blood spreading through the white fabric of my shift. Yet I felt no pain there—it was not, I realized, my own blood at all, but Braith's, where he had clawed himself to remove the dagger. "You are bleeding, Braith."

  "It is little enough." He was silent a moment. "It was you, was it not, who shouted to me the cause of my pain."

  "I could only hope you could remove it yourself. You may think me a fool, but I still would not come within reach of a pain-mad dragon if I might avoid it." I was beginning now to feel cold, shivers working their way along all my limbs. The pressure of his dragon-warm skin so near to mine was more comfort, now, than embarrassment. His blood, gruesomely, was nicer still, hot near to boiling.

  "Would that I had sent instruction with the cursed fairy," Braith murmured, picking up his pace. "You ought to have warm broth as soon as may be. And certain medicines, as well. Fire is cruel to your weak human flesh."

  "That I cannot argue with."

  "Truly? A statement that you cannot argue with? I am all amazement!"

  "As if you were a very picture of reasonable discourse."

  "Ah, that is more like yourself."

  We made the tower at last, and were greeted by Gareth and Genevieve in all manner of confusion; they had seen little of the commotion and gotten nothing coherent from Elaysius, except that I was injured. Genevieve, a sensible woman, had put water on to boil upon hearing this; any injury, after all, benefited from clean water. Braith set her to making broth and finding bandages, as he passed her to lay me on my belly on the lounge-chair by the fire.

  "You, boy," he said, "you know somewhat of herbs?"

  "Aye," said wide-eyed Gareth.

  "Know you a plant called aloe, and another called three-stars?"

  "I know three-stars," said Elaysius, subdued and hesitant, from somewhere overhead. "My people, too, use it for burns."

  "Go with the boy, and bring as much as may be at hand. Quickly!"

  "Genevieve." I tugged her hand until she knelt to look in my face. "Braith has
a wound on his shoulder. Pray do not let the fool bleed his life away before he thinks to bandage it."

  After that I had little attention to spare for other's wounds, for if I thought my back hurt before, cleaning it taught me new things about pain. Elaysius sat before me, stroking my hair and hands, shushing and cooing in a desperate attempt at comfort as I gasped and wept and dug my nails into the cushions.

  "Strip these of that clear substance within," I heard Braith saying above me, "and mix it with the three-star flowers, when they are ground. Add some water if you must. Snails! Can you move no faster?"

  When at last the remedy was prepared, I could only lie boneless with relief, for wherever they spread the cool salve, the pain subsided into mere tingling discomfort.

  "We shall need more of this," Braith said. "Go, both of you, gather as much as you can find. Better to have it waiting. Genevieve, is that broth ready at last? Good. Can you turn onto your side?"

  This last, I realized, was directed at me. Slowly, carefully, I maneuvered my body until it was propped onto one elbow. With one hand, then, I was able to spoon broth from the bowl Braith held.

  When I had consumed as much broth as I could swallow, I drooped back to the cushions, exhausted. "Braith, do you forgive Elaysius?"

  He snorted. "Dragons are not forgiving creatures. I shall forbear from killing him, that is my only promise."

  "That is sufficient."

  As my body pulled me into healing sleep, I felt—but might have imagined—a hand brushing lightly over my brow, and a voice muttering that I was a perfect fool.

  Chapter 3

  Iwas kept in bed for three days, and though they seemed an eternity to me, Elaysius said that without the three-stars ointment, it would have been a much longer and more wretched time.

  For the first two days, I was too miserable to mind my immobility. I slept deeply and often—another effect, apparently, of the three-stars—and ate voraciously before sleeping again. More than once I woke to find myself calling for Rindargeth. Usually it was Elaysius who answered; he seemed to feel himself personally responsible for my condition and determined to do whatever he could for me, fetching food and drinks and books and cloths, mixing my salve and helping apply it, singing and jesting and fooling for my amusement.

 

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