Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (14 page)

Oganna rotated on her back and leaned on her other elbow so that she could look at the long wood table. A basket of fresh-picked fruit made up the centerpiece, and she had cooked the smoked pork, a wild duck, and a chicken to complement her bowl of garden salad. Besides this she had set out boiled corn on the cob, and on the kitchen counter were three pumpkin pies. She rarely made this much food for supper and had never before for breakfast. The smell of all that good food just waiting to be eaten had been driving her stomach crazy for the past hour. It had taken her most of three hours to prepare this feast.

As the Nuvitor had said, the table was set. “It is getting late. Perhaps we should wake him.”

“Nonsense!” the bird replied. “He slept heavily last night. He was exhausted. Just be patient. He’ll come.” She flitted from her perch and landed in the hammock beside Oganna.

Oganna cuddled the soft creature. She reached up and stroked her own face. It still amazed her beyond belief that the dragon had been able to heal her so completely after the giant had mauled her. She shuddered as she remembered how Razes’s blades had dug into her flesh.

Her stomach rumbled noisily, and she swung her legs over the side of the hammock and set her bare feet on the warm wood slabs. That food was looking more and more tempting each time she glanced at it. And the smell of those pies . . . Mmm hmm! If she weren’t a princess she would smack her lips.

The male Nuvitor dropped to the floor, preening his feathers as he stepped around the pole that supported the hammock and cocked his head at her. “I’d give Master no more than another ten minutes. If we wait all morning, the food will get cold.”

“Psst!” The viper uncoiled and slithered between her legs, then raised its head with a disdainful air. “We will eat when Mistresss says we do. Psst! Don’t put your feathers in a ruffle for nothing!”

“Shush,” Oganna scolded. “There’s no need for this bickering. Just sit back and relax.” She glanced at the small carved wooden clock hung on the far wall.

Ever since the viper had become a permanent member of their family, it had rubbed its bird friends the wrong way. With its cocky nature and unflinching loyalty, the creature had both wheedled its way into her affections and earned her most stabbing rebukes. Her father had seemed to accept the creature with a lot of reservation. It didn’t like him and he didn’t like it. And it had an annoying tendency to intrude on others’ conversations.

She stood and walked to the fireplace. The fire was burning lower now. She grabbed a poker and stirred the coals before laying several more logs on the fire. “Want to come outside with me?” she asked the female Nuvitor as its mate and the serpent began another argument.

It flew to her outstretched arm and held its wings out to maintain balance. For its size the bird was quite light, no heavier than the viper. “Thank you, Mistress, I did not want to listen to those two go at it again.”

Oganna laughed. “I know what you mean.” She opened the door and walked out into the brisk morning air. Warm orange rays bathed the eastern sky.

A pile of neatly stacked, split logs lay to her right against the house. The Nuvitor leaped onto the woodpile while Oganna crooked her left arm and collected the wood into it with her right. When she turned to go back into the house, she almost ran into Ilfedo as he held open the door.

“Mmm! Something smells delicious.” He took the wood from her arms and kissed her forehead.

“Good morning, Father.” She entered the house and Neneila hissed, “Psst! See?” The viper slicked its tongue at Seivar. “He’s here.”

But the bird flew to its master’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you rested,” it told him.

“It had been a long time, my friend. Too long.” He stroked the bird’s chest and let it lean against his head. Then he gazed upon the table and let out a long, low whistle. “Oganna, you’ve prepared a feast.”

The ring on his right hand flashed as it passed through the lamplight and she eyed the white-gold dragon. The jeweled eyes, a rich purple, appeared focused on her father. Its wings enclosed around his finger, and its tail curled over it.

She caught him staring at her, a stony rebuttal of her curiosity. “Sorry, my dear, I will tell you shortly.”

There was a new look in his eyes—a glint of mystery, enfolding him in a mantle of silence.

“Who gave that to you?”

“A dragon with whom you are also acquainted.”

“Grandfather?” She grabbed his arm and eagerly waited for him to elaborate.

But he did not.

Oganna sat at the table and waited as her father and companions followed her example. The Nuvitors stood on the bench on either side of Ilfedo while the viper coiled next to Oganna and raised its head above the table so as to be within reach of its plate. Just as she prepared to portion out the food, Ombre and Caritha came in with Laura, Rose’el, Evela, and Levena in tow.

“Good morning!”

Rose’el pinched his cheek. “Good to see Sleeping Handsome awake!”

He slapped her hand away with a laugh. “Enough, my friends.” Ilfedo smiled at Oganna. “I’m afraid that while this meal looks absolutely fabulous, it is a bit heavy for me. Would you mind poaching some eggs?”

She laughed. “I am not insulted.” She kissed his cheek and walked into the kitchen, holding up three eggs. “Would you like them cooked through, or do you want the yolk runny?”

Dressing in clean pants and a tan shirt, Ilfedo then walked downstairs. As promised, Oganna had everything prepared. After stuffing himself with eggs and jelly-smattered toast, not to mention the warm chatter of the sisters and Ombre, he walked outside. Everyone soon followed, seating themselves on the stone wall around the patio.

Ilfedo sat on the bench under the window, and Oganna settled beside him. He put his arm around her and wondered where to start his tale. Ombre and Caritha already knew the latter half, that which concerned the shepherd and the dragon’s appearance the night before. But concerning the other matter . . .

“Ilfedo?” Caritha leaned forward. “What is the matter? You seem highly preoccupied. Is it—that?” She cast a glance at the dragon ring.

He sighed and looked in Ombre’s direction. With a wave of his hand, he said, “I would very much like to hear about your trip before I launch into the details of my own.”

“There is not a great deal of news from the coast. At least, little you don’t know already.” Ombre plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. “The recent construction of Fort Gabel is progressing well. The outer walls have been raised. Unlike our previous military projects, Fort Gabel is built of stone—”

“Stone. I like that. It is fitting.” Oganna folded her hands in her lap and gazed eastward. Beyond the line of trees and the forest, over the rolling hills of the Hemmed Land, down on the flatland stretching to the sea, the fort was even now being built. And its name came from none other than her valiant defender and martyr, the giant king of Burloi.

“Anyhow,” Ombre said, “the fort is nearing completion. But the artisans from Gwensin are pushing to build a cylindrical keep. They say if there were an invasion, the fort walls could be destroyed, but a cylindrical keep would present an imposing and impenetrable barrier. Of course, I pointed out that such a thing would be a waste of resources and time. We have no neighboring countries, unless you count our allies the Megatraths.”

Ilfedo nodded. “The proposal of such a thing doesn’t surprise me. Vortain sent those artisans. Granted, the city of Gwensin is a marvel in our society; it is beautiful and thriving, but I think in the case of Fort Gabel we should aim for practicality, not grandeur.” With a frown, Oganna directed her gaze at him. “Do you disagree?” he asked her.

“Yes, Father, I do. This fortress represents strength and security to our people on the coast. The artisans’ request may sound extravagant, but creating a beautiful structure instead of an ugly imposition would greatly benefit that region.” She pointed eastward at the forest. “Imagine that a fort were built within sight of our home. Imagine that you are one of the people, an ordinary citizen. You have no say in the matter. The forest is hewn down, the wildlife flees, and in place of that beauty walls of cold gray stone are raised and a military garrison moves in. But what if, instead, the lord of the land sends the finest craftsmen to build a majestic structure, a monument to commemorate a fallen hero?”

He allowed himself to smile. “It sounds as if you might be personally interested in seeing this task through.”

“Oh, I am no expert in architecture; you know that!”

“No.” He leaned back and gazed around at the sisters and Ombre, then he pointed at his daughter. “Look at her. The future queen—that is what the people vow they will call her—she is graceful yet forceful in her opinion.” He clasped his hand to his chest. “
My
subjects, men like Vortain, will sometimes oppose me . . . but to her everyone will bend the knee, and willingly.” A bird twittered in the trees, and he glanced upward. A caressing breeze gifted him the scent of roses and dew. “Oganna, I could send you to Fort Gabel. You could do as you wish in this matter. Indeed, knowing that you are occupied in such a manner will help clear my head for another matter.”

Ombre winked at Oganna, and Caritha caught her eye, giving her an encouraging nod.

At that instant the dragon ring animated. With a snarl it dug its claws into Ilfedo’s finger and flapped its white-gold wings. He clutched that hand, flashing a glare at the amethyst-eyed creature. The sisters whispered among themselves, and then everyone grew silent as he stood and paced back and forth before them.

“What I must say now, I am compelled to say. What I must now do, I am compelled to do.” The dragon ring hissed and bit his finger.

Oganna’s viper slid through the open door. It coiled at her feet and looked up at him with the strangest expression, one that seemed to convey concern. Startled, Ilfedo leaned over to look at the viper’s round eyes. The creature pulled back its head, eyes narrowed. Everyone laughed, and the viper slicked out its tongue. “Dessspicable!”

Shaking his head, Ilfedo addressed his family. “Now that that is behind us”—he cleared his throat—“I’m afraid I have a troubling bit of news to discuss with you.” He went on to relate how a persistent wind had, for the past three months, driven the sands of Resgeria into the Hemmed Land’s southern border. “It lashes into the forest like a whip, shredding the bark off trees, eating into the meat of the trees themselves, and toppling them. Already this wind has turned several hundred acres of prime forest and farmland into desert.” He told them how his advisers had reacted to the news, and then he related how he wished to proceed.

“Someone must begin a search for possible sites to relocate our people to. The Hemmed Land is small, and while our population grows, its resources and now its landmass are shrinking. Years ago”—he waved his hand at the sisters—“when we buried my wife and the dragon appeared, he told me that I would one day seek a new land. That this Hemmed Land would not contain us. It seems that his prophecy is coming true, and though Vortain opposes my decision, I believe it wise to prepare for possible relocation.”

“What of the Western Wood?” Ombre pointed in that direction. “No one has fully mapped it.”

“Not mapped. No. But some hunters have recently ventured far enough west to bring word of a volcano that cuts off the forest. Perhaps that is why the soil out that way is so rich.” Ilfedo bit his lower lip. “What we need is for a small expeditionary team to find out what lies beyond the Western Wood. I dare not bring our people north into Burloi, and we know not what lies beyond the Sea of Serpents. Perhaps the Megatraths can inform us of what lies south of their desert, but for now I would like to focus efforts on finding land west of here.”

Ombre nodded and said, “If you wish, I will undertake this task.”

“I do not want anyone going alone. We don’t know what lies out there.”