Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) (14 page)

Ombre darted to the heap of ashes, wrapped his fingers around the cold blade of the Sword of the Dragon and carefully pulled it out of the dirt. He waited, half-expecting the frightening weapon to blaze anew with fire. But it did not. He walked back to Ilfedo, knelt, and placed it in Ilfedo’s hand. The Lord Warrior’s wounds were beyond a quick fix. But Ombre had seen the sword destroy an enemy by its own power and of its own accord. Surely this mighty gift, if it truly came from a prophet of God, could help his friend.

Light radiated from the sword, and the grass in its immediate vicinity died. The arrow protruding from Ilfedo’s shoulder burst into flames and vanished. Blinding light sprouted from the blade in tendrils that latched onto the man’s wounds.

Ombre stepped back and closed his eyes. “God, let him live.” Footsteps scuffled beside him. He opened his eyes to find the woman of the cabin with her two children kneeling beside his friend. His helmed men came out the cabin door, lowering their swords. More soldiers darted from the forest, all of them gazing upon the awesome sight as the sword continued to keep Ilfedo alive. They shook their heads and smiled, then fanned out to search the forest for the escapees. Some of them remained and faced the forest with drawn swords. They kept their wary eyes on the trees.

The woman gasped and Ombre followed her wide-eyes to the place where Ilfedo lay. A man stood over him in white robes. The man’s countenance exuded purity, and his eyes shone like golden suns. He was fearful to behold, but Ombre could not tear his gaze away. An angel? It must be. But how was this possible?

As they stared at him, the angel smiled down at the woman’s frizzy, red-headed children. The innocent creatures had their heads bowed in humble prayer and their tiny hands, though bruised and bloody, they had folded in prayer.

Ombre fell to his knees as the angel put a healing hand on Ilfedo’s shoulder and held the Sword of the Dragon in the other. How quickly his quiet life had changed. His best friend had married a wonderful girl, and now it seemed that God himself would let nothing be simple again. First the sword with its tremendous powers arrived, along with the Warrioresses and their almost sad companionship, then the winged men appeared in the Hemmed Land, and now an angel intervened on Ilfedo’s behalf. He closed his eyes and thanked the Creator for it all.

When he opened his eyes the angel had gone and the sword was sheathed at Ilfedo’s side. Nothing remained of Ilfedo’s near fatal encounter apart from his torn clothing. His chest heaved steady and strong.

Ombre stood and smiled down at the boy and girl. They returned his gaze with weary curiosity. “The faith of the young is strongest of all, apparently.” He helped the woman to her feet. “You need not worry about those creatures. They will not return. Five hundred men are encamped two miles north of here and another five hundred are combing the woodland. They will be found.

“In the meantime, I suggest you get these little treasures to bed. They well deserve it.” He patted the woman’s shoulder and summoned four of his men. “You will keep watch here tonight. If the creatures return, sound the alarm. Reinforcements will not be long in coming.”

“My Lord Ombre.” One of the men cleared his throat. “Our original force is spread too thin to effectively cover the entire border—”

Ombre clapped him on the back. “Yes, but not for long. Lord Ilfedo already sent a courier requesting additional troops. We are going to thoroughly sweep the forests for these creatures until we find them. Also, a fort will be established in the valley along the border. When we are done, this area will be as secure as any in the Hemmed Land.”

Ganning limped out of the trees over to Ombre and shook his hand. “I heard what happened. How is he?” He glanced at Ilfedo.

“Fortunate to be alive. You’ll not believe it, Ganning, but an angel actually healed him.”

Ganning grinned from ear to ear. “Was she a handsome brunette with long wavy hair and eyes the hue of summer clover?”

Ombre shook his head. No matter what he’d say to the contrary, Ganning would never believe him. Perhaps it was his fault for being a jokester in his youth and letting it carry over into adulthood. Why couldn’t he always be sober like Ilfedo? People believed Ilfedo and always took him seriously.

“Angels indeed!” Ganning limped over to Ilfedo and shook him out of a deep slumber.

Caritha turned her back to the fireplace’s warmth and brushed back her hair, opening the door on Ilfedo’s house. Cool, damp night air rushed from outside.

“Don’t leave that
open
, Caritha!” Rose’el said rather sharply.

Caritha glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile.

The tall sister pulled a blanket around her body and lowered herself into the hammock. “You … you’ll wake the baby.” She looked at the floor, then pointed at the crib on the hearth next to Evela.

“The baby is fine, Rose’el. And haven’t you used that excuse a couple times too many by now.” Laura put a dish under the pump, washed it, and handed it off. Leaning against the counter, Levena took the dish and dried it as she whistled a soft tune.

Evela was sitting on the hearth. A contented smile warmed her face as she peered into the short wooden crib. She sighed. “I don’t think any baby could be more content or secure than this one feels right now, surrounded by all of us. Rain usually calls for gloominess, but look at her. She sleeps as if there is not a thing in all of Subterran for which she’d stir.”

Rose’el rolled her eyes. She often treated these sentimental moments as trivialities. But Caritha laughed, for Rose’el’s eyes hesitated upon seeing the head of the bear Ilfedo had killed, hung above the mantle. She humphed disapproval and shook her head.

Caritha slipped outside and eased the door closed. She walked along the stone patio to the newly constructed outdoor fireplace. A scrap of flint lay on top. After throwing in a few scraps of dry wood, she sparked a flame that soon crackled warmly across the logs. An overhang made of skins and canvas kept the rain running away from the patio. Ilfedo had made a few modifications to the house before his departure to the Hemmed Land’s boundary with the northern desert.

For an hour or more the fire warmed her while she sat on a bench looking down the grassy clearing. A few bugs fought through the raindrops until the downpour lessened to a drizzle. A rabbit hopped out of the forest to nibble on the grass.

From the tallest tree in sight, Seivar glided to the patio and swooped under its roof, perching before the open fire. “Mistress, mind if I share the fire with you?”

“Of course not. I will be happy for the company. My sisters have been a little distracted of late. The young princess has won their attention more often than I.”

Seivar fluffed his feathers and raked his silver talons through them.

Caritha gazed around the remainder of the clearing. “Where is Hasselpatch? I have not seen her today.”

Seivar blinked his silvery eyes at her. “Does Mistress desire me to find her?”

“No. No, that will not be necessary.” She petted the bird’s wet back. “I only wondered.”

The rain continued to fall. The clouds thickened, then thinned and thickened again. The rabbit hopped back into the forest.

As the two sat enjoying the warmth of the fire, a curious sound caught Caritha’s ear—a distinct cough that could have belonged to a very small person. She glanced about the patio and there, on the lowest step, stood Miverē.

Seivar lunged toward him with beak open, but Caritha caught the bird’s tail feathers. “No! This is a friend.”

She knelt and held out her hand. Miverē used his silver wand as a cane and teetered into her palm. “Hi,” he managed. But his voice sounded hoarse.

“You poor thing. Did you catch a cold?”

In answer the fairy sneezed and hoarsely replied, “Yes.” He jabbed a slender finger at his throat. “Laryngitis.”

She hurried him inside where all the sisters could help. They decided first to get him warm by the fire and then give him a bath. He didn’t protest. Levena carried the hot water from the fireplace to the kitchen, and they filled a bowl for him.

He held on to Laura’s pinky, and she lowered him toward the water. As soon as his miniature toes dipped in, he shot out as quick as an arrow from a taut bow. His little body turned red to match his hair. They added some cold water and convinced him to try again. This time the temperature suited him fine.

If allowed, he would have remained in the bath for a long while, but Caritha pulled him out and insisted he get good and dry. He wrapped himself in a dishcloth and tapped his head with his wand. Every hair hissed, steam rose until his head dried, and his tiny quill formed out of thin air and stuck itself behind his ear. Pulling it out he smoothed the feather with tender care, then tucked it in place atop his head.

That evening he said not a single word. He sat wrapped in the dishcloth on Evela’s shoulder the whole time, coughing and gazing into the crib. Caritha could tell he wanted to say things, but his voice wouldn’t allow it. So he stared and occasionally a silvery tear rolled down his cheek.

Clearly the fairy missed his beloved friend, Dantress. He missed her a very great deal. Caritha wondered if that was why he had come—to see the infant for whom Dantress sacrificed her life.

“Is anyone hungry?” Rose’el held her stomach and it growled. “I am—
very
.”

Laura and Caritha prepared a soup. Dantress’s former garden had yielded a generous variety of vegetables. They sliced potatoes, red onions, and mushrooms into the pot. Rose’el muttered to herself as she walked to the back of the kitchen and opened the trap door to the root cellar. She vanished into the darkness and returned with a jar filled with a brown liquid. “Here.” She handed it to Caritha and shuffled back to the fireplace.

Caritha poured the broth in, and before long everyone enjoyed a bowl of steaming vegetable soup in front of the fireplace. For Miverē they filled a small measuring cup. He sipped the soup for a long while, still staring at the baby.

“It is good to be with you, daughters of the great dragon,” he said at last.

“Your voice is back.” Evela smiled down at him.

He sniffled and coughed but nodded.

The hour grew late. The sisters rose to go to their chambers. Caritha remained by the fireplace as goodnights were said. “I’ll put the baby to bed.” She stood and watched the bedroom doors at the other end of the house close.

The fairy slipped out of the dishcloth and flitted onto the baby’s stomach. “‘Twas your fate to die, fairest of the dragon’s daughters, and now I have come to give what gift I can to preserve your child.”

Caritha knelt beside the crib. “She really is beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, fair daughter of the dragon. But too young to play with me.”

“Miverē, why have you come?”

The fairy glanced up at her with his green eyes.

“You would be welcome to stay here, but I don’t think Ilfedo should see you. He doesn’t need to know that fairies exist, too. And he’d want to know where you come from.” She frowned. “Emperia must remain hidden from this world and unknown to its people. There is evil on the rise. I can feel it growing as the months pass. Something ancient is stirring malice in its heart. This place, this land, and this child’s father are a beacon of hope.”

Three tears rolled down the fairy’s face. “Maybe I can give her little life a silvery lining, a gift from us fairy folk to honor the fairest of the dragon’s daughters.” Thus saying, he sniffed back a sob, drew his little wand, caught one of his silvery tears on its tip, and suspended it over Oganna’s clenched baby fist. The tear fell from the wand and splattered against her skin.

Miverē opened the baby’s hand and plucked a long red hair from his head. He used his wand for a needle, sewed the hair through her palm, and then did the same to her other hand. He hovered over Oganna’s head and kissed her forehead. A warm glow briefly passed from the fairy’s lips over the baby’s skin. The fairy hairs in each of Oganna’s small palms glowed for an instant beneath the skin.

Miverē stayed that night in Ilfedo’s house. He slept in the upstairs bedroom with Caritha and Oganna while the Nuvitors watched over them. Caritha lay in Ilfedo’s bed, rocking the cradle next to it, and the fairy lay on the pillow. In the morning he left just as unexpectedly as he’d arrived. Caritha said nothing to her sisters of the fairy’s strange gift to Oganna. She turned over the baby’s hands and could see no sign of the red hairs sewn beneath the skin.