The Little Dragons

  Roald the Shepherd, for that was his name, had left a few days after he had come, limping, but on the mend, his two friends supporting him for the journey back to Tummel.

  Before long Maida could no longer avoid the need to walk through the passage to the toilet. This she did as quietly as she could, slipping from the bed and down the stairs, moving softly in her bare feet and carefully closing the door behind her. Once up, she did not feel like lying down again. She looked longingly at Mother Peg’s shelf of Journals. Mother Peg had been absent from the cottage a great deal lately, but with Liandra here, there had been no time for study of the Journals. Maida quietly dipped herself a cup of milk and sat down at the table.

  After a minute, she gently pushed one of the shutters open, just a few inches.

  The window looked out over their little dirt courtyard toward the barn, quiet and shuttered in the dangerous daylight. The pastures were a little brown this time of year. No wonder the goats came in looking for hay even after a night of grazing. The garden, too, was dry looking. She must remember to take out a bucket or two of water tonight and give the plants a drink.

  Suddenly a long shadow came slipping over the pasture, the barn, the garden. Maida jumped up and stepped back from the opening between the shutters, holding her breath. She had not heard the flap of wings. The Dragon must be gliding. Maida heard a moan from upstairs, and the rustle of the Princess turning in her bed as the shadow passed by.

  Maida knew she should just close the shutter again, but it was so tempting to look at her garden in daylight. There were blossoms, bright spots of colour in the neat rows of vegetables and herbs. At night when she worked among the plants, she barely noticed the flowers. Some were closed at night and the rest were colourless grey or black in the darkness.

  Then the shadow was back, darker and much larger. She could even make out the shape of the Dragon’s long snout as it came between the sun and the packed dirt of the courtyard. Oh no, thought Maida. It must have seen me. She stood well back from the window while the sinuous length of the creature passed overhead. As soon as it was gone, she reached out and closed the shutter, but not before she caught a glimpse of its glossy blue tail undulating through the sky beyond the barn. She shuddered. It was far too low.

  There was another moan from upstairs, followed by a whimper. Maida quietly crossed the floor and climbed the steps to the loft. “Liandra?” she whispered “Are you awake?” The Princess whimpered again. “What’s wrong?” Maida asked her.

  Liandra was curled up, holding herself tightly. “It hurts.”

  “What hurts?”

  “My scars. They burn when a Dragon flies over.”

  “May I look?” Liandra nodded and Maida carefully pulled the cover down. She gently raised the Princess’s shift to look at her back. “Oh!” Maida exclaimed when she saw the scars. “They’re very red and sore looking.”

  “They hurt!” The Princess repeated.

  “What about the salve that worked so well on Roald? Would it help your scars?” Maida got to her feet and moved toward the steps.

  “It goes away as soon as the Dragon leaves,” Liandra told her and, sure enough, by the time Maida returned with the jar of salve, the scars had returned to the puffy pink-white of months-old wounds. Since she had fetched the salve, Maida offered to rub it on the scars anyway. “It may help if another Dragon flies by,” she told Liandra.

  As Maida worked, carefully spreading the cool salve on the scars. Liandra began to speak. “At first my father’s Dragon was so cute,” she said. “He glittered in the light of the torches. We say he was blue, but his scales were really all the colours of the rainbow. And his eyes. They were brilliant. You knew what he was feeling just by looking at them.”

  “How did you know?”

  “They sort of changed colour, light and dark, and shape, a little. But mostly, when you looked straight into his eyes, you just knew. Oof!” The Princess squirmed, curling tighter.

  “Did I hurt you?” Maida removed her hand from the Princess’s back.

  “No. It’s the baby. It’s moving, kicking or something.”

  “Really? That’s good,” Maida said and returned to smoothing salve on the scars.

  “It’s scary, when a Dragon flies over and the scars hurt. Sometimes I think he left his mark on me to claim me. He always knows where I am. I can’t get away. Someday he’ll find me.” Liandra buried her head in her pillow.

  “Oh sweetheart,” Maida comforted her. “Surely not. You’re safe here and then your father will protect you once you go home, and then your husband in the Southlands.”

  “Rafe says he’ll always protect me.”

  “Really? He does?” Maida paused. There was no end to the discoveries of what went on in the mind of the silent, apparently simple, Rafe.

  Liandra nodded.

  “Well, he will, then. There, I’m finished.” Liandra sat up, pulling her shift back into place and pushing a pillow in behind her back. Maida put the lid back on the jar of salve. “You know, you’ve never told me about the day the Dragon attacked you.”

  “I’ve never told anyone.” Liandra’s voice sounded choked and Maida looked up to see a tear escaping down the Princess’s cheek.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Maida crawled in under the covers and sat beside Liandra, an arm around her shoulders.

  “You’re the first person I’ve talked to about anything important since my sister Ortrude. She was just a year younger than I am. We told each other everything.”

  “Was?”

  “She is the one the Dragon killed when it escaped.” Tears were now flowing freely down Liandra’s cheeks. “And you know the worst thing?”

  “What?”

  “I think she was killed just by accident. It was me he was coming for. He just kind of slashed her on the way by, but by the time everyone got there to help us, she was dead.”

  Maida held her closer.

  Chapter 61: Jessa

  Jessa and Ev sat on their bed, their nightgowns tucked around their feet. Daylight outlined the shutter on the window and poured through the cracks in the wood, lighting up the dust motes floating around the tiny room. They were too excited to sleep.

  “But why wouldn’t you tell me about this before?” Jessa demanded.

  “You know. I told you. My mother said not to tell anyone until I could find one of the Old Ones.”

  “But now you’ll have to tell me the poem.”

  “No, it’s a secret!”

  “How can I help you find out if it contains real directions unless you tell it to me?”

  Ev fidgeted with her toes, curled up in the fabric of her nightgown. After a few minutes she said, “Swear to me that you will never tell anyone. Swear to me.”

  Jessa took on a solemn tone. “I swear, on our friendship, which is the most important thing in my life, never to tell anyone even one single word of your poem.”

  “Is it?”

  “What?”

  “Our friendship, the most important thing in your life.” Jessa held Ev with her serious grey eyes. No need to speak. Ev sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you, but don’t forget and let it slip out. You do that sometimes!”

  “I know, but this is too important. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “All right.” Ev took a deep breath. “It goes like this:

  “Oh ye who would the secret seize

  At Theta’s Well, face mountain breeze.

  Forsake the road you walk with ease

  For stone-lined path, well marked with threes.

  “Twelve thousand steps before ye’ll see

  A cottage hid by apple trees.

  Upon the hearth, fall on your knees.

  Beneath its stone lie Dragon keys.”

  With the last word, Ev let out the remainder of her breath. The two young women stared at one another, thinking hard.

  “Mountain breeze—that must mean north,” Jessa said.

  “How will we know which way is north?” Ev as
ked.

  “The main road, the one we’re on, goes east and west.”

  “What do you suppose ‘well marked by threes’ means? And what are ‘Dragon keys’? I hope they aren’t something dangerous.”

  “I have no idea. Maybe your aunt will know, or the old Healer that’s coming with her.”

  “I can’t believe we’re going to see them—tonight!”

  Jessa looked thoughtful. “Ev, this poem is at least as old as your grandmother’s time, right?” Ev nodded. “What if the ‘cottage hid in apple trees,’ if it really existed, isn’t there any more? Or someone else lives in it?”

  “We can’t know until we go, can we?” Ev clutched her knees to her chest. “I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

  “I guess we should try. It could be a long night.” With that Jessa pulled up the covers and the two friends snuggled under them together.

  Early that evening Lady Merrit asked the innkeeper’s wife to send a message to the stables that they would not travel that night. She also asked for a packet of food and a small travel lantern for the young women and for meals to be served to herself and Imelda in their room. Jessa saw a glitter when the Lady’s hand left the pouch at her waist. She must have paid well for the innkeeper’s wife’s service. Everything was done as Lady Merrit asked.

  As soon as darkness made the roads safe, two heavily cloaked figures came up the stairs, slowly, for one was bent and supporting herself on a stout walking stick. Once in the room shared by Lady Merrit and Imelda, they pushed back their hoods. Ev ran into Marle’s arms. Her aunt briefly stroked her hair, then pushed her far enough away to smile into her eyes. Ev then turned to the Old One and curtsied to her as she would to a grand lady. The old woman chuckled. “Come here, lass,” she said, taking Ev’s hand in her knotted one. “You are a Woman of the Land. Don’t bow to me. Give me a kiss.” Even short Ev had to bend a little to place a kiss on the Healer’s creased cheek.

  “And you are young Ev’s sister-adventurer,” the old woman said, turning to look carefully at Jessa.

  Lady Merrit told her Jessa’s name and the Healer nodded. Jessa found herself wary, the elderly Woman of the Land had reacted very strangely to her that day in the Visiting Room, but she followed Ev’s lead, giving the Healer her hand and bending much farther than Ev had to place a light kiss on the Old One’s soft cheek. As she straightened, Tess continued to hold her hand and study her face. Jessa began to blush. “I have dreamed of you,” Tess told her. That, then, would explain her reaction in the Visiting Room, the careful study of Jessa’s face now, but what on earth did it mean?

  There was no time to wonder. Lady Merrit handed them the packet of food and lantern, then took Jessa’s and Ev’s hands in turn and looked straight into their eyes. “Be careful,” she said, “And come back well before daylight.” Both girls nodded vigorously.

 

  Lanterns shone from the windows of the inn and three or four cottages scattered along the road. Lights also flickered in the inn yard where jingling and the voices of men commanding horses told them travel preparations were under way. A brightly-lit room at the back of the building gave off the clattering and banging of meal preparation. In front of them was a small gathering place of pounded earth, probably the site of the weekly market. Right now it was deserted. Marle and Tess led Jessa and Ev toward a low circular stone wall in the centre of this space. As they got closer, they saw that it enclosed a covered well. “This is Theta’s Well,” Tess told the young women as they approached it. There were four openings in the wall around the well and it was low, worn smooth on the top, obviously designed as a place to sit and talk. Marle and Ev helped Tess lower herself into a spot facing away from the inn. The others arranged themselves around her.

  “And so, young descendant of the great Mother Calla,” Tess addressed Ev. “What is this Key you spoke of?”

  “It is a poem, Mother. My mother made me repeat it over and over again until I knew it by heart. She said to tell no one until the time was right and the Old Ones sent for me.”

  “Many chains were broken during the Times of Terror. The Old Ones have forgotten this Key of yours, if they ever knew. Perhaps it was something Calla meant to tell the School, but died before she could. However, no matter. I sent for you. I believe the time is right. Tell us, child.”

  Ev closed her eyes and allowed the dark small noises of the dark woods around them to close in, as if still sheltering the words she had hidden all her life, and her mother and grandmother before her. Finally she took a breath and repeated the poem softly to Mother Tess.

  When her voice died away, Mother Tess looked at Marle. “ I think Mother Calla was giving directions to her own cottage. It was north of here, and twelve thousand steps would be four or five miles, which would be about right.”

  “Do you think she hid something, then?” Marle said. “In her own cabin?”

  “It sounds like that, doesn’t it? As if something is buried under the hearth stones.” The old woman’s brow creased even more deeply, faintly visible in the shadow of her hood. “But that cabin was burned by the King’s Men in Calla’s own time. I can’t imagine what would be left.”

  Marle sent an anxious glance in the direction of the eager young women. “The hearth stones would likely survive, unless someone dug them up for building materials in the years since. The apple trees, they might have survived.”

  “Yes, yes. Calla was famous for her apple orchard. There may be trees still there.” Tess sighed, turned to Ev and Jessa. “Well, my young ones. All you can do is try. Count your twelve thousand steps and search for ancient apple trees and hearth stones set into the ground, perhaps under the remains of a burned cottage. You must start now, for the night will not protect you for long. Come, we will bless you.”

  Ev and Jessa knelt before Marle and Mother Tess. Both put their hands lightly on the tops of the young women’s heads. “Earth Mother,” said the Old One, “Protect and guide these young servants of your ancient Dragon Priestesses, and bring them safely back with whatever Calla left for our generation. It is time.”

  The two older women accompanied the travelers to the north side of the open space where several paths disappeared into the forest. Most were dirt pounded by many feet, but two were carefully paved with stones. “’Stone-lined path,” Ev whispered. “But which one?”

  Jessa held out the lantern. Ev found the flint and stone all servants carried in their pockets and lit it. The four women examined the openings of the paths. In a moment Mother Tess pointed to the large stone set crossways in the opening of one of them. Ev held the lantern beside it. There were worn marks on the rock, three spirals. Ev looked into the Old One’s face, her own brimming with excitement. “Marked with three?”

  Mother Tess nodded. “Off you go then,” she said. “Save your energy for counting.”

  They ran for the first two hundred steps, when another cottage came into view, sitting in a small clearing just off the path. Smoke rose from the chimney and lantern light shone through the windows. The girls hid their lantern and tip-toed past, counting under their breath.

  From here on the going became a lot more difficult. The path was overgrown with dense thickets. They pushed their way through, sacrificing their arms to the brambles to protect their faces. In some places they had to crawl on their hands and knees to follow the ancient paving-stones among tangles of roots. “I don’t want to think about what I just put my hand in,” exclaimed Jessa, scrubbing her hand against her thigh.

  Ev giggled. “So that’s why you’re taking it home on your skirt?”

  Jessa made a face at her, barely distinguishable in the faint light of the lantern.

  When they encountered streams, they took off their stockings and shoes and waded across. The stones under the water were slippery; the hems of their skirts were dipped many times. Soon their legs and feet were soaked, stockings, shoes and all, despite their efforts to care for the soft leather.

&n
bsp; Sometimes the path disappeared entirely. When that happened, one girl would stand on the last stones they could find and the other would go ahead, casting about in the brush with the lantern, until she located paving-stones again. Sometimes many yards of the path were buried or gone, and both girls despaired of losing it altogether.

  Their spirits really fell when they began to lose count.

  “Sixteen-hundred!” Jessa announced.

  “No, that’s fifteen-hundred.”

  “Sixteen-hundred. Fifteen-hundred was back at that brook, remember?”

  “No that was fourteen-hundred.”

  Jessa sat down and put her face in her hands. “Oh dear. Now what do we do? We can’t go back and start over.”

  “I know,” Ev said. “When this happens we’ll take the lower number. Better that we start looking for the “cottage hid by apple trees’ too soon rather than too late.”

  They stopped to rest more and more often as they went along. When they were hungry, they opened the package from the innkeeper’s wife. Lady Merrit must have paid well. There was a generous quantity of cheese and bread, even a few pieces of fruit.

  When they reached what they thought was twelve thousand steps, they looked around themselves in dismay. There was nothing to distinguish this spot from any other they had passed, trees, brush, the remnants of the stone path. They pushed on, casting the light of the lantern as far as they could from side to side, but found nothing.

  Jessa threw herself down on a log beside the path. “I don’t believe it. We’ve come all this way for nothing.”

  Ev dropped beside her. “What time do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. People say they can tell what time it is by the stars, but I’ve never learned how.” Jessa looked up at the small piece of sky they could see from their log. “Oh oh.”

  Ev looked too. The sky was definitely growing lighter. “We can’t look any further. We have to go back.”

  They picked up their lantern and pack and began retracing their steps, trying to hurry, but they could not make any more speed than they did coming the other way. The light relentlessly grew, moving across the sky from east to west. Soon it was not necessary to use the lantern.