Meghan's Dragon Page 5

  “It’s a new moon and the stars are clouded over,” Meghan whispered back. She raised her free hand. “Please, stop for just a minute. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three,” he replied immediately, and inexplicably found himself licking his lips. “Three fingers and one gold ring.”

  Meghan stared at where she knew her hand to be, but even with her enhanced vision, she had to strain make out the individual fingers.

  “You’re changing,” she whispered with a feeling of awe. “Dragons have perfect night vision.”

  “I ate a lot of carrots on Dark Earth before I got burned to a crisp,” he replied curtly. “Let’s go already. From what Phinneas said, if we don’t catch the players at Castle Foregone we probably never will. There are too many different mountain passes they can take from there.”

  The two young people walked on silently in the dark, and Meghan found herself struggling to keep up with his long stride. In less than the time it takes an hour candle to burn down, she found herself tiring. As much as she hated dipping into the store of magic in her dragon pendant, she grasped it with her free hand and muttered, “Strength.”

  “Why did you say that?” Bryan asked in a normal tone of voice. To the girl’s ears, it sounded almost like he was shouting, but of course, there was nobody out on the road to hear. Only soldiers and nobles traveled in the dark, and not without a mage or torchbearers to light the way, so a surprise encounter was unlikely.

  “I was talking to myself,” Meghan replied. “I’m not used to walking this speed with a full pack, and I’ve been up since early this morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bryan said, coming to an abrupt halt. “Not just for walking fast, but for making you flee and for accusing you of killing me. And I feel like an idiot carrying a sword that I don’t know how to use wrapped up in a bedroll where I couldn’t get it free if I needed it.”

  The fact that she couldn’t make out his features let her imagine that a look of sincerity had accompanied his apology. “Could we just rest for a few minutes?”

  Bryan looked around in all directions and said, “There’s nothing to sit on.” He sounded confident about the contents of their surroundings, despite the fact that she could barely identify the road by its slightly lighter shades of black.

  “The road is fine,” Meghan replied, slipping out of her pack and sitting down cross-legged in the narrow strip of grass that ran between the dirt tracks carved out by wagon wheels.

  Bryan shrugged off his own pack, but rather than sitting, he went through a series of stretching exercises, and then asked, “Why wouldn’t Phinneas let me wear it across my back so I could grab the hilt if I needed to quick-draw?” He drew an imaginary sword over his shoulder and slashed downward in a single movement, a move he had seen in countless movies and video games.

  “Nobody wears swords across their backs,” she replied. “The tip would stick out past your side and you’d keep knocking things over or running into people. Most warriors who use long swords carry them on their shoulders like a spear or an axe when they march. Aren’t you tired at all?”

  “Not really,” Bryan admitted, lunging and bouncing to stretch his Achilles. “I guess all the extra sleep I got sort of charged my battery, the way you say that bronze medallion works for you.”

  “Did you have a, uh, battery on Dark Earth?”

  “Actually, sleeping too much used to make me tired. I guess things are different here.”

  “I wish I had done more to prepare for this,” the young mage said with a sigh. “I spent most of my free time practicing magic to build my ability, and after Hadrixia taught me to read scrolls and got me the extra work cleaning the baron’s library, I only read about magic and history. I know very little of the world beyond the castle lands, and I was sure you’d already have all the basic dragon skills. I didn’t realize you’d have to start at the beginning, as if you just hatched out of an egg.”

  “I wish you’d stop referring to me as a dragon.” Bryan grunted as he squeezed a knee in towards his chest. “Hey. I don’t remember ever getting a knee this high before without losing my balance. And anyway, what’s so great about having your own dragon? From what everybody says, they just fly around raiding herds and stealing treasure to bring home and sleep on.”

  “That’s all superstition and stories parents tell their children to make them behave. Well, it is true dragons end up with fortunes in gold and jewels, but that’s because they’re so powerful and live a long time. I need you because nobody in their right mind would pick a fight with a dragon, so once you show your true colors, I’ll be able to practice magic openly and build my strength. Then when the block breaks down and I recover my memory, I’ll be able to fulfill my destiny.”

  “What’s the special task you need to perform that Hadrixia mentioned?”

  “I don’t know,” Meghan confessed. “There may not even be one. It could be that the block will disappear when I’m strong enough.”

  “What makes you so sure that you’ll know what to do when the block is gone?”

  “I just know,” Meghan said stubbornly. “The same way I knew I needed a dragon.”

  “You don’t need a dragon to take you east,” Bryan argued. “We’ll just catch up with this band of players and travel there in style.”

  “I always thought I’d be riding when the time came,” Meghan said with a sigh.

  “I’ve never been on a horse, but I’ll bet I can learn,” Bryan said. “We’ll find some gentle ones.”

  “I meant you.”

  “Meant me what?”

  “You know, ride. I was going to ride you.”

  Bryan broke off the stretching routine to stare at Meghan. It really didn’t seem that dark to him, and he could make out an embarrassed smile on her small face.

  “Ride me?”

  “I’ve never actually seen anybody riding a dragon in person, but it’s a popular woodprint subject for artists,” Meghan blurted. “Sometimes they show the rider sitting between the dragon’s wings, and other times the rider is on the dragon’s neck behind the head. I was going to ask you what was more comfortable—for you, I mean.”

  “How can you believe anything so silly?” Bryan demanded. “Look at me. How am I going to turn into a dragon big enough to carry you on my back? I may have dropped out of freshman physics, but I understand enough of the laws of thermodynamics to know you can’t push energy and matter around like that.”

  “None of that means anything here,” she replied calmly. “Would your laws of thermo-whatsits have allowed me to catch you when you fell off the tower? Would your Dark Earth laws even allow me to make a simple flame?”

  Meghan lit up her hand, in part to demonstrate the fallacy of his argument, and in part so she could see his face. To her surprise, he looked curious rather than argumentative, as if he had forgotten the whole dragon subject and moved on to something else.

  “Do that again,” Bryan said. “The fire trick.”

  The young mage shook her head at his inability to stay focused on the discussion, but she put out the flames with a muttered word and then rekindled them.

  “Again,” Bryan said. “I think I saw it that time.”

  Meghan understood what he was getting at now, and she grew excited as she extinguished and rekindled her magical flame half a dozen times. Her traveling companion watched with unnatural concentration.

  “I think I’ve got it,” he said, after she brought the fire from her fingers a seventh time. His face glowed with joy at the discovery of a whole new way of seeing things. “I’m going to try it now.”

  “Be careful,” Meghan cautioned him, but before the words had finished coming from her mouth, he had already kindled the largest fireball she had ever seen. It burst from his palm and shot off into the sky in a single action, expanding as it went until it faded into the dark.

  “Did you see that?” he asked excitedly.

  “Me and everybody else within a day’s walk who happened to be lo
oking up,” she replied, jumping to her feet. “Don’t do that again without warning me. We have to get moving in case there was somebody nearby.”

  “I want to practice,” he complained. “Besides, who would bother us if I can make fireballs like that?”

  “We don’t know how much energy it’s costing you,” she said. “You have to learn how to control magic on a small scale before you can do large things. Do you feel sleepy, or hungry?”

  “Hungry,” he replied, and it came out as a rumble, as if his stomach was speaking for him.

  Chapter 12

  It seemed to Bryan that they had just gone to sleep when he awoke to Meghan shaking his shoulder. It was light out, but still early morning. He was stiff from sleeping on the cold ground with only the thin bedroll for a mattress, but hunger drove the sleep from his eyes and he sat bolt upright.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Just that we need to keep moving if we’re going to catch the players,” Meghan said. “I’m still half asleep myself, but we’ll nap in the midday heat.”

  “I’m starving.” Bryan pulled his pack over and began sorting through the contents. “What happened to the cold roast chicken?”

  “You ate it,” Meghan replied, rummaging through her own, smaller pack.

  “And the apples?”

  “Gone.”

  “The jerked beef?”

  “You didn’t even stop walking for that.”

  “Wasn’t there a meat pie?”

  “You had it for dessert.”

  “You mean all we have left is bread and cheese?”

  “All you have left is bread and cheese. I’m still digesting our farewell dinner so I haven’t touched my provisions yet.”

  “Oh.” Bryan eyed the girl slyly. “You still look pretty worn down from last night. I could carry your pack for you.”

  “Do you really think I’m that dumb? Besides, everything we brought wouldn’t hold you to until lunch. Whether you’re on your way to becoming a dragon or not, we’ve discovered that you have a gift for making fire. I warned you that all that magic would make you hungry.”

  Bryan tore his remaining loaf of bread roughly in half, unwrapped the cheese from its cloth, and made a crude but effective sandwich.

  “Are you going to eat that whole thing right now?” Meghan asked. The bread and cheese ration for each of them had been intended to last for five days. “At least add some roughage. Those dandelions growing next to you may be a little bitter, but it’s better than plugging yourself up.”

  “I don’t want to waste the water to wash them. My waterskin is almost empty and it smells pretty dry around here.”

  “Why would you wash dandelion greens?” Meghan asked.

  “Who knows what could be on them,” Bryan said. “Didn’t they wash the vegetables in the palace kitchen?”

  “Yes, but that’s because the farmers deliver them in the same handcarts they use to take away the night soil,” Meghan pointed out. “Would you worry about washing an apple you picked from a tree?”

  “Sure, to get the pesticides off.”

  “What was that long word?”

  “It’s like poisons for killing the insects that would eat the crops otherwise,” Bryan explained. “You probably don’t have them here.”

  “You purposely put poison on your food?”

  “It’s—never mind.” Bryan picked a handful of dandelions and stuffed them into the sandwich. Then he had a wonderful thought and caused his hands to burst into flame, quickly dialed down the heat, and toasted his breakfast. “Grilled cheese. Want some?”

  “I think I’ll just eat a couple of hard-boiled eggs and an apple,” Meghan said. “We should be able to buy provisions today, and between the money Hadrixia gave us and my own savings, we won’t go hungry any time soon, even with your appetite. Here,” she continued, tossing him the leather change purse Hadrixia had pressed on her. “In case we get separated or something it doesn’t make sense for me to carry all of our money.”

  Bryan let the change purse land between his crossed legs, since both of his hands were occupied in keeping the monster sandwich held together while he rended it with his teeth. Meghan peeled her eggs, and the two finished their breakfasts in silence, which was enforced by a constantly filled mouth on Bryan’s part. Incredibly, he polished off the loaf-sized sandwich before the girl finished her apple.

  “The dandelions were a good idea,” he said, speculatively eyeing the patch. “Maybe I’ll just pick a couple handfuls to bring along.”

  “Don’t bother,” Meghan told him. “Too many aren’t good for you, and they grow so commonly that the farmers complain about them. Do you need to visit the woods before we leave? I went before I woke you up.”

  Bryan looked puzzled for a moment, and then he rose to his feet.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He took about ten steps into the woods, looked back, and saw the girl rolling up the blankets. He took another twenty steps.

  “Remember,” she called a warning to him. “Leaves of three, let it be.”

  Chapter 13

  The first cluster of human habitations they came across barely qualified as a hamlet. There were six crudely built log cabins, arranged in a rough circle, a palisade connecting each house with its neighbor to create a closed space. A ramshackle tower stood in the center of the protected area, reaching twice the height of the highest cabin roof, with a small platform that might allow two archers to draw a bowstring without knocking each other off.

  What the settlement lacked for in amenities, it made up for in children, and all thirty or so of them mobbed the first guests of the day.

  “Are you from the castle?” a little girl asked.

  “Do you have any candy?” a chubby boy wanted to know.

  “My mother sells vegetables and salt meat,” an older girl informed them.

  “And mine!”

  “And mine!”

  Meghan smiled at all of the little faces which reminded her of home. “We’re just traveling through, but we do need to buy provisions,” she replied.

  “We haven’t had breakfast yet,” Bryan said hopefully. When Meghan looked at him in disbelief, he added, “That was just a wake-up snack.”

  “Travelers pay two coppers a bowl,” the oldest boy in the crowd told them. At eleven or twelve years of age, he already had the callused hands and square shoulders of a young farmhand. “You must have camped out on the road to be here so early. The house with the chimney has the kitchen.”

  “Thank you,” Meghan replied. “I’m afraid we didn’t bring any candy. Is there a place nearby where you can buy some to share?” She brought out her own change purse and shook a couple of coppers onto her palm. Bryan scowled, but he didn’t say anything as all of the children began to talk at once. It was impossible to follow their discussion of the relative merits of sweets makers in the surrounding area, but they quickly settled on the oldest girl as their spokesperson.

  “Farmer Greswald in the meadows sells maple candy for three coppers a measure,” she said shyly.

  “Three coppers it is,” Meghan said, extending them to the girl. “Oh, and we set out before the rest of our party because neither of us likes to ride, but if horsemen come asking for us, you can tell them we were headed for Castle Strongbow.”

  “Castle Strongbow,” the children repeated in a chorus. Then the girl with the coppers started off on her way to Greswald’s farm, and the other children went back to their chores or games. The two travelers entered the cabin with the chimney.

  “Pretty smart,” Bryan said, “For a minute there, I thought you were giving away treasure for no reason.”

  “Treasure?” Meghan asked, as they removed their packs and took seats at the long table built of rough planks. “Three coppers is exactly enough to buy a bowl and a half of whatever they eat for breakfast around here, and I have a feeling that you’re at least a two-bowl man.”

  An older woman approached from the smoky fireplace where she had been stir
ring the contents of a large pot with a long wooden paddle. Her clothes were made of some rough homespun stuff, but they showed that peculiar cleanness that Bryan had come to associate with magically treated fibers.

  “Two for breakfast?” she asked in a friendly voice. “We don’t get many this early. You must have been caught by the dark between settlements and camped out on the road.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bryan said, anxious to move things along and find out what was cooking.

  “Are you trying to get a free bowl?” The woman regarded the pair suspiciously. “I’m a simple goodwife and that’s more than good enough for me.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it,” Meghan said hastily. “My co—husband isn’t from around here,” she added, hoping the woman didn’t notice her verbal slip. Meghan had gotten so used to calling Bryan her cousin in dozens of introductions to curious castle dwellers that it had become second nature.

  “Co-husband?” the woman repeated, nodding her head in approval. “I didn’t know you castle folks went in for the old traditions. I have five co-husbands myself, and eight co-wives. Men will run off to war and get themselves killed.” She paused and muttered what might have been a prayer for the departed or a curse against kings. “Well, it’s two coppers a bowl, but seeing how you’re our kind of people, I’ll throw in a pinch of salt for free.”

  “Thank you, goodwife,” Bryan answered for Meghan. The girl was at a loss for words on finding she had graduated from playacting a wife to being taken as a participant in a plural marriage without ever having received a proposal.

  The woman went back to her pot and used the paddle to fill two wooden bowls with oatmeal. Giving the young couple a broad wink, she reached into a small clay container and added a pinch of salt to each serving. Bryan’s mouth began to water as he rooted through his pack for his eating spoon.

  The oatmeal was tasty, but Meghan had eaten two eggs and an apple a few hours earlier, and her stomach began to protest after a half a serving. She looked up to see how Bryan was progressing and found that he was staring at her bowl in rapt attention.