“But I’ve started doing some Healing of the local people. They need me.”
“Mother Peg refused to see you as a Healer. Even now at the School they will be figuring out who will cover this territory.”
“My garden …”
“I got here in less than half the morning. We can come and care for your garden and harvest when it’s ready—in the daylight!”
“What about my friend Gleve? We don’t know what happened to him. He may show up here needing care.”
“We can search for him better by Dragon.”
“My goats …”
“There’s a stable and pasture there, at the Dragon Priestess’s caves. We’ll make slings to carry them in.”
Maida gave a suspicious look through the door, which Liandra had left open. The blue Dragon was curled up, apparently sound asleep, filling every inch of the courtyard.
“For the God’s sake, Maida, it’s time to rebel against that old crone and the Healing Order. What value do they give you, that they didn’t take you back and apprentice you to someone who would give you the respect you deserve? Besides, I need you. You know I can’t feed myself …” This brought a laugh from Maida “… and we can be together.” She reached for Maida’s hand and squeezed it. A moment later they were on their feet, wrapped tightly in one another’s arms.
Maida swept the cottage and drained the pump. She used every basket she could find to pack food and medicines from the pantry. She took some of her cheeses from the aging room and left the rest in their neat rows. They could come back and get more. Meanwhile, Liandra sewed slings from a length of homespun she found upstairs in the loft.
When they were ready, Liandra asked Roxtrianatrix to call a few more Dragons. Maida held her breath while a shiny black one carefully closed its claws around her parcels and baskets and lifted them away into the sky. The goats were panicky, but hung well in their slings, only turning slightly in the air as a group of five Dragons picked them up and slowly made off with them. Finally, only Alethilion and small green Dragon waited in the courtyard. Maida could hear her own heart pounding as she closed the cottage door and walked out. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see,” Liandra reassured her as the green claw-tipped fingers closed around her, gently supporting her as she was lifted from the ground. She had thought she would want to screw her eyes closed as hard as she could, but her attention was immediately held by the cottage, the stable and the garden, tucked neatly into their clearing, disappearing beneath her. And then the Tummel road, and the village itself, the river, the bridge—days of travel by foot passing by in a single beat of the Dragon’s mighty wings.
Chapter 105: Odd and Gimlin, King’s Men-at-Arms
They had made good time coming back from Tummel because they were now familiar with the path. The night was not very old when they settled themselves in the woods to watch the clearing. “Why’s it all dark?” Odd whispered close to Gimlin’s ear.
“No one home?”
“Shit.”
“Maybe they’re in there waiting for us.”
Odd shivered. They lay quietly in the undergrowth. After some time, Odd shifted his position. “What are you doing?” Gimlin whispered.
“Trying to get a hard biscuit out of my pocket. I’m hungry.” Gimlin grunted. Odd took it as agreement and continued to squirm. When he got the biscuit in his hand, he broke it in half and handed part to this companion. Time went faster sucking on the bit of travel ration.
More time went by. Gimlin looked at the stars. “Night’s going,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anyone here.”
“You ready to look?” Odd’s face was pale in the starlight.
Gimlin didn’t respond, but quiety rose to his feet and, with exaggerated caution, approached one of the shuttered windows. He peered through a crack, then turned to where Odd remained hidden and shrugged his shoulders. Next he tried the door. Locked.
Now they sat openly in the clearing, although they didn’t light their lanterns. “So we go back to Tummel and come again tomorrow night?” Odd asked.
Chapter 106: Anglewart
As Anglewart sat at his high table presiding over supper, there was a commotion at the back of the hall. The company parted to reveal Torrie, dressed in full armour, marching on a straight course for the front of the room. He stopped before his Father, his face deathly pale, jewels of sweat standing on his brow, but his back rigid and his voice strong.
“My King,” he said, “I hereby Challenge you…” He raised his left hand and began to pull the thick leather fighting glove from it “…for your Kingdom.” The glove came free and he slapped it down on the table in front of the King.
Anglewart suddenly discovered that he couldn’t breathe. His face was probably as pale as his son’s. This he had not foreseen. He could rule this Challenge illegal. Torrie was not yet married, after all, and did not have a son, but surely that would look cowardly. At this moment, with more than a hundred people in the Hall watching in complete silence, his mind scrambled to find an alternative. He looked into his son’s eyes, so young, so determined, and beneath that, so terrified. Oh my dear boy, he thought, you’re making a terrible, terrible mistake, but there was no choice. He stood, drew himself up to his full height, picked up the glove and put it on. “Your time and place?” he asked.
“The next full moon,” Torrie said, “At nightfall.”
Chapter 107: Odd and Gimlin, King’s Men-at-Arms
Word of the Challenge reached Odd and Gimlin at the inn in Tummel. Odd turned to look at his companion. “So,” said Gimlin, “What would happen if, say, the old witch had been at home and, say, she caught us watching her cottage and, say, she turned us into mice?”
Odd thought about it for a minute or two. “We’d disappear, never be heard from again, by any human, anyway.”
“Right. So what do you say, that’s what happened?”
Odd took some time to register what Gimlin was suggesting. When he did, he laughed. A few minutes later, though, he because serious again. “That’s called desertion,” he said. “You know what happens to deserters.”
“We’re way the hell out in the Eastlands and the King’s been Challenged,” Gimlin said. “No one’s going to be looking for us for a long time. I’m sick of watching a witch’s empty cottage. So, let’s say we spend our lodging money on a pair of axes and some woodsman’s clothes and head for the northern borderlands. Lots of jobs for log cutters there.”
Odd slapped his knee, laughed again.
Chapter 108: Maida
Maida felt as though she had not blinked in hours, there were so many wondrous things to see, the land passing far beneath her, the colours of daylight, the mountains, awesome beyond what she could have imagined, and then the mountain opened up into a cave so huge it disappeared into its own darkness, rustling with hundreds of Dragons. Finally, she saw the orderly row of openings in the far wall, the School of the Dragon Priestesses.
They immediately settled the frightened goats into their new quarters, closing the door to give them comforting darkness and no further sight of Dragons. “Old hay,” Maida exclaimed, her nose buried in a handful of the stuff stacked in the feedroom beside the stable. It wasn’t mouldy, though, and by searching she found some that was slightly appealing to her goats.
She was appalled at the state of the reception room, dining hall and kitchen, almost rolled up her sleeves immediately to start cleaning. “No, not now,” Liandra pulled her away, leaving the baskets of food in the middle of a long table to be unpacked later. “There’s a hallway I meant to look at yesterday,” she said, pulling Maida by the sleeve behind her.
The passage from the reception room was obviously not just for everyday movement between rooms. It was high and decorated with painted walls and ornate torch brackets. It descended on a gentle slope, turned, and opened into a circular space with a central, stone bath or pool, empty of water, although there was a decorated pump standing beside it and a small firebox set into its side.
On the far side of the room with the pool, they felt the cool breeze and clinging smell of the Dragon cave. They entered a large room. “This is the one on the lowest level you can see from the Dragon cave,” Liandra whispered, “With the platform jutting out into the cave.” As if in response, a Dragon landed on the platform, filling the far end of the room. Their lanterns bounced light off of golden scales. It lowered its head and made a snuffling sound at them. Immediately another Dragon landed beside it, equally curious, a black one this time. All they could see was the sparkle of their lights on its scales and eyes.
On either side were large, circular stone pits. Maida looked into one. It was blackened, clearly used for fires. There were torch brackets as well, high up, matching the ones in the hallway and bathing room. Between the two fire pits, against the back wall, was a raised dias and an altar of some sort, although it was set with one of its short ends toward the platform where the Dragons sat, the other toward the back wall, not sideways like the altars in churches. It was also much higher where it came closest to the wall and had a rounded ledge on the lower end.
The two women did not spend much time studying the strange altar, though, because their attention had been drawn by the carvings all around them. Every inch of the wall was covered with stone bas relief. Beside them their lanterns picked out stone Dragon Priestesses with Little Dragons on their shoulders beating drums and singing. Above them a Great Dragon flew, twisting in the air, wings spread wide, head and tail lowered. “Look at that.” Liandra said, holding her lantern higher. A long, slender, curved thing hung from the stone Dragon’s belly. Roxtrianatrix chose that moment to slide into the room, circling them and landing on Liandra’s shoulder. His penis, he said into Liandra’s mind. He’s about to make a Little Dragon.
Liandra told Maida what Roxtrianatrix had said. They moved to the end of the room, behind the strange altar. Above it was a carving of a naked, pregnant woman, her hand resting on her belly, her face peaceful. Over her arched a huge Dragon, curled protectively around her and all the other scenes on the wall.
On one side of the altar was a carving that made its use obvious. While more Dragon Priestesses and their Little Dragons stood in attendance, a naked woman lay on the sloping altar, midwives on either side holding her hands, another holding a cup of some medicine. She was frozen in the act of giving birth to a Little Dragon, its elegant head and neck supported by a fourth midwife squatted at the end of the altar, its furled wings emerging.
On the other side, more stone Priestesses sang and drummed behind a side view of the same altar. This time a naked Priestess lay on it, knees bent and spread, while a Great Dragon arched over her, its long, curved penis disappearing between her legs.
“So, that’s how they did it,” Maida breathed the words rather than said them.
“The Dragons are happy,” Liandra said.
That evening they sat on the balcony in the Dining hall, two chairs pulled up to the railing, the remains of their first meal in the School of the Dragon Priestesses forgotten on the table behind them. Roxtrianatrix perched on the balcony and translated to Liandra; Liandra repeated the words to Maida, as the Dragons told them stories of the Dragon Priestesses of old, who had borne which Little Dragon, fathered by which Great Dragon and what they had done in the world. The names were so long they quickly became just a jumble of syllables to the young women’s ears.
They spoke of their hunger and how the Dragon Priestesses had raised cattle to feed them. “They say we would be safe in the daytime if we had farms like those again.”
“I don’t know how to set about that,” Maida said. “No one even knows yet that we’re here.”
They expressed their joy again and again that the Dragon Priestesses had returned. “I guess that’s us,” Liandra said.
“Us?” Maida asked.
Liandra listened to an involved conversation among the Dragons, channeled through Roxtrianatrix. “They want you,” she said, finally. “ I guess there is a senior Dragon, a leader or King to them, who is upset that Althelion was the first to father a Little Dragon. He wants to ‘marry’ you.”
“Marry me?” Maida’s skin tightened into goosebumps.
“That’s the word they’re using.”
“Which one is he?” Liandra passed the question on to Roxtrianatrix.
There was a commotion in the cave. A number of Dragons that had been perched on rock ledges took off and circled around in a cloud of moving wings. In a few minutes, they parted and a huge Dragon came snaking slowing through the centre of them. He shone, a dark golden colour, like old gold jewelry. He hovered before them, as the other Dragons moved back, forming a multicoloured aura around him. He brought with him such force of presence that Liandra and Maida spontaneously stood up.
“This is Glenardinaliat, Lead Dragon,” Liandra said.
Chapter 109: Jessa
Jessa could hardly believe the softness of the bed. It puffed up around her like clouds in the sky, the mattress and comforter both stuffed with soft down feathers. Queen Calantha had chosen this large chamber in the Southlands castle for her second son and his new bride. Her gift to them was a set of tapestries to cover the stone walls and capture any drafts that might sneak in to chill them. Jessa was not fond of the scenes on the tapestries, images of battle, men killing one another and Dragons, but she found that if she squinted her eyes she could turn them into brilliant, cheerful swirls of colour.
Her arm was losing feeling, but she didn’t care, because it was Lochiel’s head resting on her shoulder, his nose nuzzled into her neck. He slept like a child, an expression of joy on his face. She breathed in his scent of sweat, leather and their mingled bodies. Just a few days ago she had been afraid of what would happen after the wedding. There were dire tales among the serving staff, just as there had been among the servants in the Women’s Retreat House, but as soon as they were alone together for the first time, Lochiel had made a little speech to her, one he had obviously rehearsed in advance: “Beautiful Leandra, I am honoured that you have accepted me as your husband. I never want to hurt you. I want you to come to love me with the love I see between my parents.”
Both of them knew that consummating their marriage on the first night was unavoidable. The serving women would be checking the sheets in the morning looking for signs of their union and her virginity. Young royal men were usually assigned to older women well before their marriage so they would know what to do in bed. He had been taught by a woman named Magnilda, he told her, a former prostitute who was taken in by his mother as she grew older and given a position as a serving maid. She had taught him well, because he had been exquisitely patient and gentle, talkative and funny, and he listened to her when she spoke to him. There had been a little pain, but it was lost in the excitement of discovery. And now, just a few days later, her heart swelled up whenever she looked at him.
She lifted her hand, briefly admiring the fine lace that decorated the edge of her nightgown sleeve, and ran her fingers through the tousled dark meadow of his hair. She had dreamed of this, short months ago, thinking it absolutely impossible. The memory gave her a pang of missing Ev. Would she ever see her friend again? It was possible, for surely Liandra’s Little Dragon would change everything.
Chapter 110: Maida
Through Roxtrianatrix, the Dragons told them how the Dragon Priestesses conducted what they called a “Dragon marriage.” They lit the torches and the fires, the Dragons remembered, filled the round pool with water and heated it for a purifying bath. They padded the sloped stone altar with blankets and pillows, and the Dragon Priestess bride was wrapped in a robe the colour of the Dragon she was to marry. On one trip to the room with the bathing pool, Liandra and Maida found a cupboard filled with soft blankets and pillows, and robes in each of the Dragon colours.
The Cave of the Sacred Marriage, for this is what the Dragons called it, would be filled with drumming and chanting for the whole of the ceremony, they said, just as it would be nine months la
ter, for the birth of the Little Dragon conceived in the Sacred Marriage.
Glenardinaliat did not shadow Maida the way Alethilion did Liandra, in part because of his size, in part, they gathered, because he had responsibilities as Lead Dragon. From time to time, however, Maida would catch him hovering, in the darkness of the cave, in front of the balcony of the Dining Hall or the bedroom she and Liandra had chosen for its double bed and its proximity to one of the wonderful bathrooms. He always shocked her all over again. He was immense, and gave off an intense energy. He terrified her.
“Become a Dragon Priestess with me,” Liandra would ask, whispering into Maida’s ear in their cozy bed. Maida’s instinctive response was to curl into a ball, in fear and disgust, defending her body from the very thought. “Please,” Liandra would beg until she tired of Maida’s stubborn silence.
Chapter 111: Anglewart
Torrie’s challenge had come just barely past a full moon, giving King Anglewart almost a moon cycle to prepare. He had always kept his body and his fighting skills exercised, but the responsibilities of state were greedy for his time. He could barely stand the sight of Ermin now but, as the only servant capable of taking over many of the routine tasks of government, he needed his help. Ermin agreed, as Anglewart knew he would. After all, if Torrie won the battle, who would inherit the task of teaching the new young King how to govern besides the faithful Ermin? He also needed Ermin to speed the planning of his wedding to Thalassa Rodolph. It could not be done in one moon, but he would publically declare his confidence in victory by planning the wedding for two weeks after the Challenge fight. In this too Ermin cooperated, as Anglewart knew he would. The Spymaster and Heir were probably thinking that if Anglewart died in the battle for the Kingdom, Torrie could simply step into his father’s shoes and walk down the aisle.
Anglewart was determined that would not happen. He worked hard every day, gymnastic exercises, riding, running, followed by practice fights with every master swordsman in his army. He would have his razor edge honed by the time the moon was full, along with his sword.