Meghan's Dragon Read online

  “I am Lyman, the king’s minister of ducal affairs,” he announced. “I have been appointed special envoy to the, er, you.”

  “Rowan,” the leader of the players said, offering his hand to shake. The signet ring fit snugly on his finger and had been shined to a high gloss so the visitor could hardly miss it. “Do you like my ring? It returned to me just recently.”

  “I see,” Lyman muttered, obviously recognizing the dragon symbol. “If your intention is to claim the throne for yourself, my peacemaking mission has been wasted. I only wish I had known before sitting on that infernal animal for three days and having my bones shaken apart.”

  “A peacemaker’s mission is never wasted,” Rowan said agreeably. “Please, join us for a cup of tea. My wife has been saving it for a special occasion, and you look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”

  “I accept your hospitality,” Lyman said, and then began looking around as if he’d misplaced something. “I’ll just lean on the wagon there, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough sitting for the time being.”

  Rowan’s daughters prepared the decorative samovar and served the tea. In deference to the guest, everybody gathered around the wagon bed and took their tea standing.

  “Lovely piece,” the envoy said, though it wasn’t immediately clear whether he was talking about Nesta or the samovar. He seemed to realize the ambiguity of his comment and quickly followed up with, “From your home?”

  “The samovar, yes,” Isabella answered him. “Where are you from in Old Land?”

  “The Korizan Mountains,” Lyman replied. “I traveled through your birth land many times before I emigrated. They still talk of the runaway bride there.”

  “I’m glad I was able to afford the people with such entertainment.”

  Bryan nudged Meghan to make sure she wouldn’t be startled and then spoke to her in his mind. “Rowan’s wife was an actress in Old Land? I thought she was some kind of princess.”

  “Isabella really is some sort of Old Land nobility, and their marriage gives Rowan as good a claim to rule as anybody,” she thought back. “The ring must be from the king’s collection, so wearing it in front of the envoy is a statement of opposition.”

  “The tea is quite good,” the envoy said. It seemed to Bryan that the man was relaxing, or perhaps, resigning himself to an unpleasant conclusion. “I had hoped to negotiate a nonaggression pact, but I doubt that fits in with your plans.”

  “Oh, I’d be best pleased if we could get through this without aggression,” Rowan replied. “In fact, you could say that if not for the unending cycle of violence in the land, I would have been more than happy to live out my days with my family in the honorable profession of strolling players. But your master is cast in the image of his father, a ruler who sees a kingdom as fields for growing men and fighting them against each other, like boys playing with toy soldiers.”

  “You’re pursuing the throne for the people’s sake?” Lyman looked Rowan up and down as if he was a prize specimen in a zoo. “I see you believe it. My sole talent is the detection of willful lies, so if you are deceiving me, you must be deceiving yourself as well.” He drained his tea and cleared his throat. “The king has authorized me to offer you one hundred thousand gold pieces and the lands west of the river beyond the frontier if you will give up your revolt.”

  “Enough to buy sweet dreams for a dragon, perhaps, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night,” Rowan replied with a smile. “My counteroffer is that I will grant the king permission to keep his one hundred thousand gold pieces and return to Old Land, preferably taking Narl and Barth with him.”

  “I gathered that would be your response from the reports of armed men moving towards King’s Island, not to mention the ring. We assume that you’ll have the support of the White and Red Dukes, but you know the current Blue Duke owes his position to the king, and the Green and Black are committed.”

  “The Black Duke sent an expeditionary force into the mountains two weeks ago, and I imagine they will be bogged down in the snows by now. The Green and the Red hold each other in stalemate, so I doubt very much the king can expect support from that quarter.”

  “You plan to build a fleet of rafts and cross the river in twelfth month?”

  “That remains to be seen,” Rowan answered. “I have great hope that your king will accept my offer to vacate. I understand that a fleet has recently arrived for that purpose.”

  “The fleet carries elite troops from the king’s supporters in Old Land!”

  “So they may have to sleep double on the voyage home. I hope they brought enough mages for a smooth passage in high seas.”

  Lyman snorted. “Very well, I won’t waste any more of your time since you have a long march ahead of you.”

  Chapter 90

  “How come the river’s down there and we’re up here?” Bryan asked. The ten-day march to King’s Island had proven entirely uneventful, thanks to the fact that the Black Duke’s best troops were off trying to attack the home base that the players maintained in the mountains. Rowan’s forces now numbered over ten thousand men, the majority of them veterans who had lived for years as farmers and traders, biding their time.

  “Geology,” Laitz replied, even though that obviously wasn’t the answer the young man was seeking. “Rowan will give the inhabitants of King’s Island a few days to think about where they stand, and of course, we have friends there speaking on our behalf. You can see how the royal guard units are deployed blocking access to the castle, as if the so-called king fears the populace of his own island.”

  “What I’m interested in is what that line of men entering and leaving the castle is all about. If I was just a little higher, I’d have the angle to look into the courtyard.”

  “Probably drawing weapons or bonus pay,” Laitz replied, but Bryan had already unbuckled his sword and started for a giant chestnut tree that grew near the edge of the cliff. Its leaves had fallen weeks earlier, so the young man was clearly visible as he casually shimmied up the trunk and began climbing one of the large boughs that jutted out into space.

  “He’s nuts,” Meghan commented to nobody in particular. “Did you know he climbed our tower back home and got knocked off by the guardian gryphon? I had been pretending to be magicless, and after I caught him, we had to run away.”

  “And all this time I thought I was harboring a dangerous war mage who could knock down towers like blowing out candles,” Rowan said with a smile.

  “So you DID know all along. Was it Phinneas or Hadrixia?”

  “Dragons coming,” Storm Bringer interrupted suddenly. “Not friendly.”

  Rowan nodded to Jomar, who began to whistle a single note that grew and grew in volume until everybody within eyeshot was looking their direction. Then he simply pointed at the sky.

  The noncombatants among the players quickly gathered up the children to carry or drag back inland. The soldiers formed up in odd hedgehog formations, their shields held over their heads. The war mages who came with the White Duke’s forces hurried forward along with several older men dressed in a variety of farmer’s garb, but with telltale signs of magic crackling around them.

  One of the dragons stayed aloft, turning lazy circles above the river, while the other came in for a landing on the edge of the cliff, braking to a halt with a few short hops. Then, in a brilliant flash of red, the large dragon was replaced by a tall, middle-aged man.

  “Narl,” Rowan said, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Taking a bit of a chance, aren’t you?”

  “You think too highly of yourself and your allies, Rowan,” the mage responded coldly. “Yes, you could beat that fool of a king if my brother and I stood aside, but there’s only one way that’s going to happen.”

  “If you’re looking for another hundred thousand in gold, I’m afraid the king has me beat,” Rowan replied, his eyes fixed on the mage.

  “Barth is still circling,” Storm Bringer interjected tersely.

  “My brother alon
e could put a stop to your revolt,” Narl continued. “I’m here to give you a chance, and it’s nonnegotiable. Hand over the girl.”

  “I understand that it was going after a woman who didn’t belong to you that got you into this mess in the first place,” Rowan said. “Why don’t you and your brother return to Old Land and throw yourself on the mercy of your peers? If nothing else, they’ll give you a quick death.”

  Narl shook his head slowly, there was another flash, and he was again a giant dragon. A sweep of his wings knocked the nearby men off their feet, and he made a sudden lunge towards Meghan.

  “No!” thundered a voice from out above the river, and an intensely bound fireball struck the dragon on its side.

  Narl shook his head in surprise, glanced at the spot where his scales were smoking, and pivoted back towards the cliffs. Rowan managed to slice a bit of leather off one of the wings as it swept by, but then the dragon launched himself into space, dropping towards the river. After a few powerful wing beats, he gained altitude and turned towards Bryan’s perch in the tree.

  “Come down, Bryan,” Meghan cried in her thoughts. “You can’t fight a dragon alone.”

  Whether or not he heard her, now that Bryan didn’t have to worry about injuring the players, he was creating and casting fireballs with abandon. Narl dodged them or tucked in his head to shield his eyes when that wasn’t possible, but his only other response was to fly straight at the young man.

  “Behind you!” Meghan screamed, but by that time it was too late, and Barth emitted a blast of flame that caused the tree to literally explode. Bryan’s body fell towards the water, his clothing in flames, and Meghan’s legs folded under her. She would have collapsed if Juliana and Nesta hadn’t moved close and been ready to catch her.

  “Kill those bastards!” Meghan heard in her mind, and she sobbed out loud at Bryan’s last instruction. A moment later, a brilliant green dragon rose above the cliff edge and coughed a mouthful of flame at Barth.

  “Bryan?” Meghan asked in her mind.

  “Busy now,” Bryan replied, pivoting and letting loose a torch at Narl. The older dragon fired back, and Barth recovered from his surprise to spray more flames in the new dragon’s direction. Bryan twisted and struggled to gain altitude, but the older dragons were stronger and faster than he was.

  “Dive! To your left. Your other left!” Meghan wasn’t sure whether he was still receiving her thoughts or not since he ignored her instructions. The two brothers were obviously well practiced in aerial maneuvers, and they bracketed Bryan from behind, pouring flames at him. “Pull strength from me,” she sobbed, clutching her pendant. “You can’t let them kill you.”

  Bryan feinted towards King’s Island, and then cut back sharply towards the cliff, perhaps intending to find a position from which he could die defending Meghan rather than running away. As the three dragons wheeled about, the two brothers were momentarily aligned with the sun and a river of fire engulfed them. It seemed to go on forever, and when the flame was extinguished, what remained of their charred bodies fell into the river.

  “Pick up the girl and follow me,” a female voice said in Bryan’s head. He scanned the airspace and spotted a giant silver dragon, more than three times as large as Narl. Her dive took her low over the river before she gracefully looped back and turned towards the northwest.

  Chapter 91

  “Can you slide back a bit?” Bryan thought at Meghan. “My neck is getting tired.”

  “If I move back any further, my butt will be hitting your wings and I’ll get thrown. Is that what you want?”

  “I’d catch you,” he thought back reassuringly.

  “I doubt that very much,” she said. “I’d drop like a rock while you circle around looking sad. Are we still following that big silver dragon?”

  “Can’t you see her?”

  “I haven’t opened my eyes since I climbed on your neck,” the girl retorted. “Did you forget that I’m afraid of heights?”

  “Sorry. Hey, how about if I think about what I’m seeing?” Bryan focused on sending a vision of the dragon he was following, the mountains ahead, and then shifted to a flock of sheep moving down a valley.

  “Stop! I’m getting dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Sorry,” Bryan replied, closing his own eyes to stop himself from sending what he was seeing. “Oops, this isn’t going to work.”

  “Just don’t think about what you’re looking at,” Meghan begged him. “Go back to the way it was before.”

  “I’m trying, but it’s like saying not to think about an itch.”

  “Try focusing on how it will feel when I throw up on your neck.”

  “Don’t you—hey, I think we’re landing. The dragon is flying right at that cliff.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I’m serious. What’s she doing? Whoa, she just disappeared right through the stone face.”

  “Stop thinking!”

  “It’s an illusion,” the voice of the silver dragon said. “Land as soon as you get in.”

  With Meghan screaming so loudly that he actually heard her through the wind, Bryan braced for impact with the cliff and instead found himself in a giant cavern, lit as bright as day. He remembered how the other dragons had landed by holding their wings up like air brakes, tried the same thing, and flipped a neat summersault before landing. Fortunately, Meghan had a death grip on his neck with her arms and legs and didn’t fall off.

  “Nicely done,” the giant silver dragon said. “I assume the acrobatics were unintentional?”

  “Sort of. You okay, Meghan?”

  “Are we on the ground?”

  “Yes.”

  Meghan opened her eyes for the first time since Bryan had launched them from the cliff overlooking King’s Island to the cheers of Rowan’s supporters. She blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the flashes and sparkles that interfered with her vision, and then she realized it wasn’t her eyes.

  “Is that, your, uh, hoard?” Meghan asked the dragon in a small voice.

  “You recognize it,” the dragon replied with satisfaction. “Your block should have started breaking down as soon as you began flying. Do you remember who I am yet?”

  “No, and I didn’t recognize the hoard, but what else could a huge mound of gold and jewels be?”

  “Could I, uh, take a closer look?” Bryan asked.

  “Let me down first,” Meghan demanded. “Is the sight of so much treasure causing you to tremble like that? You’re making my teeth chatter.”

  “That’s because I’m freezing! You were wearing a winter coat and you probably know a hundred enchantments to keep warm. I’m in my dragon birthday suit and it’s cold up in the sky.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing the thermal underwear from the Green Duke’s castle?” their host inquired. “I know you untied the magical knot.”

  “That’s what it was,” Meghan exclaimed. “We didn’t know. I’ve never heard of a dragon wearing anything.”

  “That’s because there are no other young dragons around,” the silver dragon replied. “Your young man hasn’t developed scales yet, it takes a few decades. It’s lucky he’s so good at dodging flames or he might have been burned much worse than the minor toasting he got. You’ve been healing him through your link, Meghan.”

  “Who are you?” the girl inquired.

  “Wouldn’t your young man prefer to slip back into human form before we have a long discussion?”

  “Yeah,” Bryan said. “How do I do that, exactly?”

  “I’m sure there were instructions in the scroll,” the silver dragon suggested.

  “Meghan’s in charge of scrolls. What do I do, Meghan?”

  “New Age crap,” the girl replied.

  Chapter 92

  Bryan sat on a rock, alternately rubbing his own shoulders and gazing at the mound of treasure.

  “Anything yet, dear?” the dragon asked Meghan.

  “Just impressions,” the girl replied. “I remember a woman
with silky, black hair looking at me, but that’s about it.”

  “Your mother,” the dragon said. “You can’t guess who I am?”

  “Well, with all the treasure and the way you burned Narl and Barth out of the sky, I can’t help wondering if you’re Gwyneth?”

  “Oh, I thought that was obvious. I meant, who I am to you?”

  “Uh, does my family serve you or something?”

  Gwyneth shook her giant head in frustration. “I think I overdid it with your block. I’m your grandmother. Well, your great-great-great grandmother, to be precise. Your father was the youngest of my line.”

  “But I thought that dragons only married other dragons, and if they had children while in human form, the children would—I’m a dragon?” Meghan concluded, her voice turning shrill.

  “Not so funny when the shoe is on the other foot,” Bryan interjected.

  “Of course you’re a dragon, that’s why I had to block you,” Gwyneth explained. After Narl and Barth killed your father, your mother was so grief stricken that she sent you to me in Hadrixia’s charge. Then she returned to Dark Earth where your father had found her.”

  “I thought I could never return to Dark Earth,” Bryan interrupted.

  “You can return, but only to die,” Gwyneth replied sadly. “She believed it was her fault that Narl came after your father, because she was the prize that he wanted. The other dragons thought that she had taken you with her, at least until the rumors about the two of you began.”

  “You mean that more of them will come for her now?” Bryan demanded. If Meghan heard the question, she didn’t react, because she was struggling with the onset of memories that had been locked deep within her psyche.

  “Perhaps. There are few dragons left who are young enough to be able to return to human form for even a brief period, but it’s not something you can tell by looking at one. I used up my human time over two thousand years ago, and I left Old Land long before the exiles because I’d had enough of dragon politics.”