Dragonswood (24 page)

Eetha bowed to him, her snout blowing dust at his feet. Her father had been the famed dragonlord Lord Faul.

Lord Kahlil returned Eetha’s greeting with a single nod. His great age showed in his darker scales, battle scars, and wrinkled eyecups. Even so he looked stronger than the younger dragon.
He is a great warrior who has been only a short time at peace with men,
I thought
. I’d fear him more if I didn’t already know him.
Spying him in full view here on the ground, I wondered at my foolhardiness to have argued so heatedly with him back in his cave, like a vole standing firm against a tomcat.

“My lord, the will-o’-the-wisps told me Bion is in trouble,” Eetha said.

“Prince Arden locked him in the tower.”

“Shameful!” Eetha whacked her tail, the tip-most splashing water down my front. I wiped my face with one hand, clung to the lettered scale with the other, holding it up like a shield, writing inward so the ink wouldn’t run. The dragon did not ask my pardon for the splash. I did not expect her to.

“We should take Arden back to Dragon’s Keep,” she said. “Bion should be king.”

“It would only start a war, Eetha. Arden is already convinced Bion wants the crown.”

“Doesn’t he?”

Lord Kahlil shook his head.

“Then we should free Bash from the tower.” I heard her care for him in the way she spoke his nickname.

Lord Kahlil pointed with a talon. “Tess has already tried to free him. Bion refuses to go.”

Again Eetha whacked her tail. This time I jumped back to miss the splash.

The dragonlord kept me in his gaze “Tess? Come by.”

I stepped around the pond, standing to their right away from the water.

At last Eetha acknowledged me. “You are the half-fey girl the will-o’-the-wisps told me about,” she said. “I am Eetha.”

“Good morrow, Eetha.” I curtsied best I could, still gripping the scale. I’d met Ore, now Eetha, two of the four Princess Rosalind raised. It was an honor even if she
had
splashed me twice.

“I see you write on dragon scales as Rosie once did.” If dragons smile, then she was smiling.

I was glad she was not offended that I’d used a scale, and warmed to hear her call the queen by the simple name Rosie.

“She might use the skill to help free Bion,” said Lord Kahlil.

Startled, I dropped a scale, picked it up again. “What, my lord?”

“You said you are afraid to face Lady Adela.”

“I said I refused to face her,” I corrected.

He ignored my remark and went on. “I know the risks you would be taking, Tess. Even if you did choose to go to her she might not listen to you, but if you acted as a messenger and delivered a written message about Lord Sackmoore’s deceit, she might read its contents. After that she’d be willing to help.”

“It would put me in danger.” I was shaking all over.

The dragon narrowed his eyes and gave a low growl. “Bion is in danger,” he said. “Will you do it?”

His question went to the heart. “For him I will, sir.”

“Write your letter,” he said. “Let there be no guise in the words, only truth about Lord Sackmoore. Convince her he was behind her kidnapping and she will do the rest. Now Eetha,” he said, turning back to her, “here is our plan.”

Our plan,
he called it. How generous of him, to be sure!

But Bion was in danger. For him I used my ink block to mix new ink, for his eyes and wicked smile, for his moods and corners, for his hands that whittled a doll for Alice, that offered me drink in the tower, that touched my neck as he asked if my chin still hurt. But mostly for the man who had taken in four starving strangers even though our presence had endangered him, the man who would not give up on his brother, though his brother had given up on him.

Chapter Thirty-seven

I
T IS A
mighty thing to ride on a dragon’s back. Flight beyond dream.

Straddling Eetha’s broad, scaly neck, I held her upright spiny pads, and clung hard with my knees as she rose over God’s Eye. Lake Ailleann shrunk below us till it seemed button small. Riding the gusts beyond the shore, Eetha wheeled south along the water for Black Swan. My body thrummed with her flight, lifted as she lifted, soared as she soared.

When the moon hung lantern bright above, I saw my reflection below us in the sea and wondered at it. Just one of me, yet I’d taken many forms. Tess shaped by the blacksmith’s blows, outsider in the human world. Tess jailed as a witch, cast in the millpond, stinking leper. Huntsman’s guest, pretend wife, fey man’s daughter. Now Tess, Prince Bion’s champion. Dragon friend and dragon rider. I’d thought the woman skimming over the water in my fire-sight was a fey scout, but it was myself I’d seen long ago.

I was high above the world. How wide the sky. How vast the ocean. How free I felt flying to my enemy.

Tiny islands dotted the coastline below. With the exception of Dragon’s Keep, which is a quarter the size of Wilde Island, most isles near our shores are little more than single hills with slim beaches where seals and sea lions gather.

Black Swan was large enough for a lord’s castle, forest, farm, and pasture. Enough land for serfs to till soil and host a small town with its own craftsmen.

Dragon wings can be loud as a garrison thundering down a road, or quiet as a breeze. I’d discovered this when we crossed the sea, and was grateful for Eetha’s skill as she soared above the western quay. Sentries stood watch at the dock where a single ocean vessel was moored. The ship the Gray Knight and Lady Adela arrived in, I supposed. If there were other smaller fishing boats on the isle, I did not spy them. With the surrounding sea, it was a prison sure if boats were outlawed here. I wouldn’t put it past Sackmoore.

We approached Lord Sackmoore’s castle from the back side. It was built in the very image of Pendragon Castle, though much smaller. A high guard wall enclosed the expansive lawns and gardens. The moat’s surface caught the white moonlight. The drawbridge was up.

Black swans swam on an oval pond. The nooks in the garden maze nearby hosted artfully clipped junipers, each trimmed to the shape of a living creature. One bush was a bear standing on his hind legs. Another nook housed a giant rabbit the same size as the bear. I had never seen the like.

Eetha landed in a stand of cypress trees just inside the guard wall. Three windows on the second story were still lit. The will-o’-the-wisps told Lord Kahlil the lady was held against her will, but there was no need for a tower or dungeon cell on this island. She had no means of escape. I almost felt sorry for the woman—almost.

My fingers ran along the edge of the dragon scale scroll tucked in my belt. This was the final draft. The dragonlord had torn the letter eight times before approving the ninth. “Eetha, the lady has three deerhounds.”

Eetha wrapped her tail about her clawed feet. “Are they with her on this island, do you think?”

“I don’t know, but the dogs, at least, will scent me even if I’m well hidden.”

“Go carefully then,” said Eetha.

A kind thing to say, but no real help. Still, Eetha couldn’t go any closer herself, large as she was. I had to go in alone.

Wrapping my cloak about my front, I covered the wretched letter. Only the image of Bion in the tower made me leave our hiding place. Past pond and maze, I crouched behind the courtyard fountain to study the upper-story windows. Only two lit now. Tugging cloth from my pack, I tied a veil over the lower half of my face. It covered my stitched chin, but that wasn’t the reason for it. I had no desire to be recognized. Lady Adela would see a secret messenger, nothing more than that.

Scurrying to the door, I checked it, found it locked, and retreated to the fountain again. I was hunched there wondering what to do next when a familiar pock-faced youth led Adela’s dogs out on their leashes. The deerhounds were alert to intruders. Ears pricked and noses sniffing, they howled. With snapping teeth they lunged for my hiding place.

The boy dragged behind, shouted, “Stop, ye bloody turds!” A window flew open. Overhead Lady Adela called down, “Curse my darlings again, knave, and I’ll whip your pimpled hide! Now take them out to the lawn, and be quick about it!”

“My lady. Yes, my lady,” the boy called, still trying to yank the barking dogs straining at the end of their leashes toward the fountain. Running this way and that, they had bound their tethers into a single braid.

The boy had had no time to shut the door with the “bloody turds” dragging him bodily after me. But he had them more in hand now. Dashing for the door, I slipped unseen into the kitchen, where I ducked under a chopping table to catch a breath. I was hiding amid rushes, meat bones, and onion skins when a man stormed through with his candle. The Gray Knight, I guessed, though I saw only his slippers and hose. He slammed the door, muttering, “Damn dogs!”

The kitchen went pitch dark when he left. Under the table my heart thudded, but I gave honor where honor was due. The deerhounds had done all, opening the way, showing me the lady’s room. I whispered, “Thank you, darlings,” before leaving the kitchen to climb the servant’s stairs. The chamber door was half open. Silently I crept in.

Lady Adela leaned over her parchment at her candlelit writing table. She did not notice me in the dark corner. Sighing deeply, she dipped her quill, and used one hand to keep the page from curling. A silver cup of sand was to her right. It irked me to see her at her desk, a frown of concentration on her face. Had God construed a scene to taunt me, a kind of holy joke? Lady, page, quill, and candle were all too familiar.

Night after night at home I’d hunched over my small table drawing things I’d seen in Dragonswood, the foxes, deer, owls up in the branches, the will-o’-the wisps, and the fey scouts riding dragonback. Confined to the blacksmith’s house, pen and parchment had been my one consolation. Hadn’t I held the curling corners of the page just so? Sprinkled sand on the ink to speed the drying process before I hid my drawings? Not only that, I’d written letters for extra market money when I could, so the tools of my beloved art and my small livelihood had been the same.

Show her mending, needling a tapestry, even reading by her fire, anything but this. A holy joke indeed. It was like seeing my own reflection across the room.

She was dressed in green velvet, her sleeve rolled up to write. Ink stained her wrist, a blot cloth bunched beside it. She’d always worn her hair pinned up or in a long plait down her back. Now it was undone. Black locks spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She looked younger by it, and frailer.

Witch hunter. Torturer. Remember who she is and do what you came to do.

Steeling myself, I whispered, “I have a message for you regarding Prince Arden.”

She turned, gasped, and dropped her quill. Bounding for the door she shut it carefully with only the slightest click. My heart sped. I was shut in with
her
.

“Who are you?” She eyed my veiled face, tattered cloak, and muddy shoes.

“A messenger with a letter for you.” I did not address her as
my lady
. She didn’t deserve it.

She put out her greedy hand, ordering in a whisper, “Give it to me.”

She does not see Tess, condemned witch girl.
She sees a messenger.
“The letter is not from Prince Arden,” I warned, “but I’m here in his cause and yours. You can help him, if you wish to.”

“Of course I wish to help him!”

A pox on her. My hand went for my knife belted by the scroll. Attack me and she’d feel my point. I pulled the scroll from my belt. She unrolled it, pinching the strange greenish page between her fingers, never having felt a dragon’s scale, I guessed.

Her lip curled. “What… is this?”

“Later,” I said. “Read it. We haven’t much time.”

The lady sat again and read. Moans increased to bursts of fury tightly leashed by teeth and tongue lest the Gray Knight come in and catch us together. I could tell by the sounds what part of the letter she was reading. Later she put her hand to her mouth and rocked to and fro.

I was well aware Lady Adela would have dropped the page and strangled me if Lord Kahlil had not forced me to rewrite the letter multiple times. Shredding the first eight drafts, the scale growing smaller after each shredding, he’d handed it back saying, “Again, Tess. More to the point. Less angry spleen.”

By the last draft I’d managed to refrain from addressing the intended reader as Lady Pustule, Lady Leech Mouth, Mistress Cesspool, Demon Torturer, and such. In this way the dragon scale had been torn down to a tidy page the witch hunter read now, both front and back.

She turned it over to read a second time. There was a lot to take in. I was sure she’d believe the news of her uncle Sackmoore’s part in her abduction now his knight held her prisoner here. The back side of the letter she read now was a list of demands. She must read them aloud to the messenger (myself), swear by them, and sign the bottom of the scale if she wanted to see Prince Arden.

Adela stood, trembling. “I will swear by all.”

I made her kneel to read the words on the back side aloud. I was proud of the demands I’d laid out with the dragonlord. She read them in a hurried whisper lest the Gray Knight hear:

“I, Lady Adela agree to abide by the demands below.

“First, I swear that if I am taken by this escort to Prince Arden, I will tell him the truth about my uncle, Lord Sackmoore, that he had me abducted and maimed to cut me from Prince Arden’s affection, and later sent me away from my former life at Pendragon Castle, and funded my witch hunts. I will also tell Prince Arden of my uncle’s gross misuse of the royal treasury before it was taken into safekeeping, using the king’s money to fund a secret army of his own to back his attempt for the crown. I will tell him my uncle organized raids on Dragonswood, done in the prince’s absence, which were against the law.

“Second, I will persuade Prince Arden to free his younger
brother, His Royal Highness Prince Bion, from the tower and drop all charges against him. Lord Sackmoore says Prince Bion stole the royal treasure to crown himself king. Prince Bion only guards the Pendragon treasure to keep it safe from Lord Sackmoore. He vows to return it when Prince Arden’s crowned, my uncle jailed.

“Third, if I should win out and by good fortune marry Prince Arden…”
She stopped here, choking up with emotion, then took a breath.
“And by good fortune marry Prince Arden,”
she said again,
“and become queen of the realm, I swear to put an end to witch hunts on Wilde Island.”
She frowned a little here, but went on.
“Finally, I swear to convince King Arden to adhere to the laws set down by Queen Rosalind and King Kye, regarding Dragonswood protecting all those who sanctuary there.

“I swear by Almighty God, the Blessed Virgin, and Holy Trinity to adhere to all listed above, doing right by all on our fair island where human, fey folk, and dragons are bound to live in peace. May God have mercy on us all.”

She looked up at me.

“Do you swear?” I asked.

“I swear. Hurry, now,” she whispered. “Take me to the prince.”

“Sign it first,” I insisted. Her humility, honed from need to see her lover, kept her at my feet. I thought of the pitiless torture she’d put me through, the hardship she’d pressed on me and my friends.
She should beg for my forgiveness.
Ah, I’d have kept her kneeling there a good deal longer if I could have. But I had Bion to think of, so I placed the dragon scale on her writing table.

On her knees, she signed.

Snatching the document, I rolled it up and said with leaden voice, “Follow me.”

“What then?” she asked.

“You will see.”

“Do you have a ship?”

I didn’t answer. We crept downstairs and out the kitchen door. The boy and dogs were far away on the lawn as we slipped past the fountain and out behind the maze.

I pointed to the stand of evergreens. “Run.”

She raced, her cloak flying, her limp more pronounced than ever as she ran. I feared the dogs would spot her, but there was little space between garden maze and woods. She made it to the trees.

Following, I found her facedown on the ground where she’d fainted at the sight of the dragon. Her arms were spread out wide as a holy pilgrim come to confess at the altar. I would have liked to leave her there with her face planted in the earth.

Eetha said, “You should have warned her, Tess.”

I turned Adela over and slapped her cheek to wake her. Next I caught her startled scream inside my hand.

“Hush,” I whispered. “This is Eetha. She’s known Prince Arden and Prince Bion since they were babes. She is here to help us.”

Lady Adela stood and brushed the grass from cloak and gown. Her face was despoiled with mud.

“Forgive me, Eetha. I was… startled.”

“I forgive you. I am large and impressive,” Eetha said immodestly.

I laughed. Then the she-dragon lowered her long neck that we might both climb on. Adela was frightened, but I did not help her clamber up behind me.

Over sea and under stars, Eetha flew us back to Wilde Island. When she landed by the cave on God’s Eye we dismounted, shivering in the fog that always cloaked the little isle. Eetha urged us both into the cave, where a warming fire waited, before she flew skyward again to hunt.

Inside, Lord Kahlil offered food and wine. The steaming turnips were bitter, but I ate hungrily, knifing them and slipping bites under my veil. I’d no wish to shed my facecloth before my enemy, and was glad to have a knife in hand with her close by.

The lady was exceedingly nervous before the dragonlord. It was gratifying to see my enemy so undone. Silent in his den, Lord Kahlil watched us, smoke curling from his nostrils. Lady Adela’s eyes flitted from teeth to talon and back again. Was she expecting torture? She deserved it.