Traitor (33 page)

Felix was already shaking his head. “No other choice? Jaevid, what are you talking about?”

I looked at him squarely. I was still praying he would trust me now like he always had. I needed him on my side. “I’m talking about high treason.”

Cold, heavy silence swallowed every sound in the room. No one said a word. No one moved.

I closed my eyes.

“I’ve come to make traitors of you all.”

I’d like to honor an amazing woman, Jimmye “Nanny” Watford, who passed away April 7, 2015.

During World War II she served as a civilian employee of the U.S. Navy at NAS Pensacola. She served as a volunteer with the Girl Scouts for over 20 years. Jimmye was an amazing artist and craftsperson. She loved reading, gardening, playing cards, sewing, quilting, and needlepoint.

Thank you so much for your love and support, Nanny!

You will be greatly missed!

***

I’d also like to thank my dear friends Katie, Lexie, and Casey for all your help and support. You ladies are my rock!

Nicole Conway
is the author of the children’s fantasy series, THE DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES, about a young boy’s journey into manhood as he trains to become a dragonrider. Originally from a small town in North Alabama, Nicole moves frequently due to her husband’s career as a pilot for the United States Air Force. She received a B.A. in English from Auburn University, and will soon attend graduate school. She has previously worked as a freelance and graphic artist for promotional companies, but has now embraced writing as a full-time occupation.

Nicole enjoys hiking, camping, shopping, cooking, and spending time with her family and friends. She lives at home with her husband, two cats, and dog.

FLEDGLING

AVIAN

IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING

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Nicole Conway

He wouldn’t even look at me.

Standing next to my father, the gray elf slave kept his eyes fixed on the ground. His forehead crinkled in an unchanging expression of distress. He was a pitiful sight, really, wearing only a tattered loincloth and a thick iron collar, from which a chain ran to my father’s hand like a leash.

I couldn’t imagine how much my dad had spent on this poor fellow. Slaves never came cheap, after all, and the fact that he was a relatively healthy young male suggested that Dad had probably spent far too much..

“Is this really necessary?” I asked, as I wiped fresh blood from my hands onto the front of my apron. “I don’t have time to train someone new. It’s easier for me just to do it myself.”

My father scowled. “Holly, we had to turn away four patients this week because we don’t have bed space. Another set of hands would help get things moving faster. And I don’t have to tell you that faster turnover means we can see more patients, and more patients means more money.”

“And an extra set of hands means another mouth to feed,” I countered. “Does he even speak our language? How am I supposed to teach him anything if we can’t communicate?”

Dad shoved the chain and a key into my hands before I knew what was coming. I nearly dropped both of them. “You really think I would buy a slave who couldn’t understand us? This one cost me a fortune. He better do everything I was promised he could.”

Ah, there it was. I glared up at my dad. “You borrowed from my dowry again, didn’t you?”

“When you inherit my practice, you’ll have all the dowry you need.” That was his way of sloughing me off while indirectly admitting that he had. Fantastic. My dowry was already pitiful, especially for a doctor’s daughter. And now, it would be nothing more than a joke to any prospective suitors. No reasonable man would want to marry a girl with nothing to her name.

Dad really had me this time. Now I had no choice but to stay here, elbow-deep in body fluids, working until my back was numb and tending to his patients from dawn till dusk. Mom would have been absolutely livid.

“I’ve got to make a few house calls this evening,” Dad prattled on, like there was nothing left to discuss. He started gathering his examination supplies into a big, black leather bag. “You’ll be all right till I return?”

I glanced uneasily at the elven slave anchored to the other end of the chain
I
now held. Good grief. Didn’t my dad have any sense at all? What if this fellow tried to hurt me? What if he tried to escape? There wasn’t a whole lot I could do to stop him in either case.

“Don’t look like that.” Dad patted my head like I was still a little girl. Annoying. “He’s quite tame. That’s what the broker told me. He’s worked in a household before, so he can be trusted. He’ll be a good help to you.”

I nibbled at my bottom lip. He certainly didn’t look threatening. He kept his head down; his shoulders slumped in total defeat. He was beyond filthy, too. Every inch of him was smeared in something like mud that reeked like rotting swamp water. Even his long, silver hair was caked with it. Gods and Fates, he didn’t even have shoes on his feet.

I saw Dad off, watching from the doorway of our three-story home which also served as our clinic. He walked briskly away down the cobblestone streets and disappeared into the gloom of the evening. Out front, a big green sign hung from a metal bar just above our door. Painted on it was a single word: CHIRURGEON. A surgeon’s office. This was where my father had run his business for more than thirty years.

And me? Well, I had been his assistant since I was old enough to walk and bring him tools or cups of water for patients. Mom had been very gifted at the apothecary arts. Now we were a team, Dad and I. There wasn’t a patient we couldn’t help in some way. At least, that’s what I told myself every time some poor sap limped through our door, bleeding from a gruesome injury.

I’d done it all. I’d sewn up or cauterized stumps left from missing limbs and digits. I’d even delivered a few babies. Was it pleasant work? No, of course not. But it was necessary, and I liked being useful. I’d be lying if I said the more serious injuries didn’t give me a little rush of excitement. Each one was a puzzle I had to put together, and I enjoyed the challenge—most days.

But that’s not to say I wanted to inherit the business for all eternity. The workload was already impossible for just my father and myself. And now, he’d bought this slave. I just wasn’t happy that he’d essentially been dumped into my lap like a stray puppy.

I sighed, checked to make sure the wooden placard on our door read “OPEN,”, and shut the door.

Facing the gray elf slave again, I got a strange squirming feeling in my belly. This was awkward—especially since I was the one holding the other end of his, er, leash. The gray elf still hadn’t looked up at me, so I couldn’t see much of his face through his clumped and grimy silver hair. He was muscular, though—I’d grant him that. At least he didn’t look scrawny or sickly like so many of the other slaves I’d seen. He was also taller than me—not that that was any sort of accomplishment. I’d always been short for my age and was most likely doomed to stay that way forever. “Sprightly,” my mom had always called it, because I was petite like she had been.