dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon (31 page)

“What do you know about the Dragon Master?” Lleland said.

“That’s neither here nor there. But it seems unlikely that Aaron would lower himself with such a deception.”

“He wouldn’t,” Lleland said. “And neither would I.”

Syngen pressed the tip of the sword against Lleland’s throat. “I’ll ask you again. What are you doing in my house? You have to the count of three before I kill you.” He twisted the blade slightly, and a drop of blood welled up on Lleland’s skin. “Muriel won’t be very happy when she finds out that you’re dead at my hand, but she’ll forgive me eventually. And I did tell you I’d never consent to a union between you.”

“I didn’t come to woo your niece. And Aaron certainly knows about me. I saw him just before I came here.”

“He sent you here? Why?”

“He didn’t. Please, take your blade away. I’ve just decided I want to live, and you’re threatening to kill me.”

Syngen pulled the sword back slightly, but kept it raised. “I’ll ask one last time. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here because Muriel invited me. As you know, I brought her another book.”

“That doesn’t explain your deception. We both know dragons cannot get ill.”

“They can if they don’t feed.”

“You seem perfectly fine now.”

“I’ve just fed.”

“Ah! How convenient. I heard Lydia Drake was here earlier. Is she in on this, too?”

“She came here because I was dying.” Lleland glanced away. “She was angry with me. She helped me when I was too weak to help myself.”

“And what does Aaron have to do with all this?”

“Nothing. He came to me this evening to try and convince me to feed.”

“Why wouldn’t you feed?”

“I didn’t want to be a monster.”

“A monster?” He laughed dryly. “A dragon who thinks he’s a monster. How ironic.”

“I wasn’t born this way. I was created.”

Syngen stared at Lleland, then stepped away and lowered the sword. “How’s that possible?”

“Aaron warned me not to speak of it.”

“I see. So you somehow changed into a dragon, and decided to starve yourself?”

“In turning into … this thing … I’ve become the monster I’ve spent my whole life trying to kill.”

Syngen’s eyes widened, and he let out a long whistle. “You’re a hunter!” He laughed. “What an interesting twist of fate!”

“You could say that.”

“Our destinies are determined by a higher power than our own,” Syngen said. “Don’t waste the gift you’ve been given.”

“You think being a dragon is a gift?”

“All life is a gift.”

“Even the life of a monster?”

“You tell me.”

Lleland picked up his tunic and walked to the window. “I should leave. But before I do, would you mind telling me how you know Aaron?”

“Oh, I belong to his clan.”

“But you’re not a dragon!”

“No. I’ll tell Muriel that you started to improve and insisted on returning to your own chambers. And Master Seaton, I’d prefer it if you didn’t show your face in my home again.”

Lleland nodded. “Goodnight, Ambassador.” He turned around and stepped through the window. The muscles in his back tightened and stretched as he pushed his wings against the air. The stress and tension that had lain coiled in his belly fled. Strength and power coursed through him, and for the first time in weeks he felt free. He filled his lungs with air and blew out a stream of flame. It rolled over his body, caressing his skin. The desire to change burned through him, but he resisted it. He had chosen life, but he wasn’t ready to embrace the beast. As he flew, he thought about what Lydia had said. It was impossible for her to bind a dragon, unless he too desired the bond. Which meant that whatever he felt about Lydia had nothing to do with being bound to her. He groaned to himself – was that a good thing, or not?

It was almost dawn when Lleland walked the last few blocks to the university. He opened the door to his chamber to see a scrap of crumpled paper lying on the floor. He picked it up and smoothed it out on his desk. It was from Lord Grant.

‘Master Seaton,’ it read, ‘the League meets Thursday at midnight. Signed, G.’

Lleland gathered the scrap into his hand and scrunched it into a ball. It was Thursday morning.

The passages and halls were dark and empty when he left for the meeting that night, and at twelve o’clock sharp, he stepped into the storeroom beneath the Guildhall.

“Ah, Master Seaton! Welcome back from your travels.” Lord Grant rose to his feet. “We have a newcomer in our midst, to which we owe you our thanks. Please welcome Master Matthew Hobbes.”

Chapter 35

A cold hand crept around Lleland’s heart as he turned to look at Matthew Hobbes.

“Master Hobbes,” he said, “what a surprise.”

Matthew smiled thinly. “I don’t know why, Master Seaton. After all, it was you who first told me about the League. When I heard there were others who shared my goal of ridding the world of monsters, I knew I had to join their numbers.” He turned to Grant. “The dragons in the Northern Mountains have been terrorizing the towns and villages in the area for years. With your hunters, we can finally be rid of the monsters.”

“And how will we manage that?” Lleland asked. “The dragons know better than to approach hunters.”

“I know where to find their lair.”

“And tell me, Master Hobbes, where exactly is it?”

“Storbrook Castle, of course. The home of Aaron Drake.”

“What?” Grant half rose from his seat as his hands gripped the table. Scott turned to stare at Lleland.

“Is that true, Seaton?” Elliott demanded. His thick eyebrows pulled together in a frown as he tugged his thick beard.

“No.” Lleland folded his arms. Callaway was watching him intently, his fingers stroking his chin. “Master Hobbes is guessing. I’ve been to Storbrook, and there’s no lair.”

“Then why do the dragons always stay near the castle?” demanded Matthew.

Lleland shrugged. “How do you know they do? Have you seen them around Storbrook? Have you even been to the castle?”

“Everyone knows the dragons have a lair there. And I also know that Aaron Drake is in league with the beasts. How did he convince you to deny the presence of the lair? Did he threaten to feed you to the monsters?”

All eyes turned to Lleland, and Scott’s eyebrows rose questioningly as his gaze settled on him. “Of course not,” Lleland said. “Aaron Drake does not believe the dragons to be a threat. If he did, he would deal with them. And after seeing them in the mountains, I tend to agree.”

“What’s this?
You
don’t think the dragons are a threat?” Callaway sounded incredulous. “Master Hobbes has just told us that they’ve been terrorizing the villages.”

“Ask Master Hobbes when a dragon last attacked his village and killed its residents,” Lleland said. He looked at Matthew.

“You already know my father was killed by the dragon, as was my brother.”

Elliott slapped a beefy hand on the table. “That’s all we need to know,” he said. “Seaton, you know that the loss of even one life is too many. I don’t understand why the dragon-slayer would tolerate this, but I say we go to the mountains and kill these monsters.”

“I agree,” said Callaway. He looked at Lleland. “What’s gotten into you? We all know how much you hate dragons. Normally you’d be leading the charge! And if people are being killed –”

“Master Hobbes’ father was not killed by the dragon,” Lleland said.

“What’s this?” Elliott turned to Matthew. “Was he, or was he not, killed by the dragon?”

“The dragon burned his legs so badly, he eventually died from his injuries. And my brother’s body was never even found!”

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Callaway said.

“Let’s kill the monsters!” shouted Channing. A short man, with heavy peasant features, Channing could smell blood a mile away.

“The dragons aren’t a threat!” Lleland said, raising his voice against Channing’s.

“All dragons are a threat!” Edgar Brenton leaped to his feet, with an agility that defied his size and age. He pounded the table with his fist. “It isn’t just loss of life that should concern us, but loss of property as well!”

“Aye, aye,” shouted Channing. “Let’s send some hunters immediately.”

“I’ll be the first to go!” Elliott said. His brown eyes swept around the table, challenging the others. “The League doesn’t let a threat go unchallenged.”

“The mountains are six weeks away!” Lleland protested.

“Not if we ride.” Callaway looked at Grant. “Will you provide mounts for the men who have none?”

“Of course,” said Grant.

“Then we should leave right away,” Elliott said. “Who’s with us?”

“I’m not going to pass up a chance to kill a dragon,” Scott said. He glanced at Lleland. “Sorry.”

Callaway tapped his fingers against the table. “You can count me in.”

“I’ll lead you,” Matthew said.

Branton shook his head. “I cannot go,” he said, “but I’ll fund the mission.”

“Nor I,” Grant said. “But I’ll provide horses and other supplies.”

“I must work my farm,” Channing said. He settled back in his seat and crossed his arms.

“What about you, Seaton?” Callaway said. “Are you with us or not?”

Lleland thought quickly. Lydia was to go to the hill country with her family. But what if she’d returned to Storbrook alone? “I’ll go, too,” he said at last.

“Good, then it’s all settled. I say we arrange our affairs tomorrow, and leave the following dawn.”

Lleland listened as the men planned the details for the trip, but before they left, Scott drew him aside. “I thought you didn’t want to hunt the dragons,” he said.

“I don’t,” Lleland replied. “But I’ll not stand aside while you do it. Perhaps I can convince you not to pursue this action. But how can you leave when you have a wife to support? How much longer till the baby comes?”

Scott frowned. “She says a few weeks. She’s staying with her mother till she gives birth. And I have a little money saved that the wife doesn’t know about.” He grinned. “Besides, I’ll be serving my country when I send an arrow through the heart of my first dragon and take a horn as a trophy!”

Lleland was at the north gate two mornings later, waiting for the other hunters to arrive. It was a cold and dreary day in early November, and the steady downpour of rain showed no signs of abating. Lleland was seated on one of Grant’s horses, and its hot breath created clouds of mist in the cold air. The day before he had spoken to the Dean, who had reluctantly given his approval for his absence. Harold Dodds would teach his classes in his absence. His first choice was Zach, but he had left for the hill country. He had slipped a note beneath Lleland’s door before he left, explaining his absence.

A sword was slung at Lleland’s side, and in his hand he held his bow. He had not hunted with it since returning to the city, but it settled into his palm like a long-lost friend.

There was a clatter of hooves on the bridge and Lleland glanced up to see Elliott approaching, also carrying a bow, with an axe slung through his belt. Callaway was a few feet behind. “Eager to start the hunt, are you?” Callaway said as he drew closer. Lleland grimaced as he greeted the men.

“You know I don’t agree with this plan. Those dragons are not a threat!”

“Now I’ve heard it all! Seaton saying that dragons aren’t a threat! You and I both know that the only good dragon is a dead dragon!”

Matthew rode up. “Ready to go kill some monsters?” he said with a grin, before wheeling his horse around and starting down the road. After a moment, the others turned their horses as well and fell in behind.

They kept a quick pace, and were soon well clear of the city. The steady rain, combined with constant traffic, had turned the roads into a bog. The other men in the entourage pulled their hats low over their eyes and drew their cloaks tight around their chests. They traveled in silence, too uncomfortable for conversation. Lleland didn’t mind the cold. The fires burned within him, keeping him pleasantly warm.

They stayed at a small roadside inn the first night, and were on their way again early the next morning. The rain had stopped, but the low clouds remained, and the air was frigid. Scott pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he fell in beside Lleland.

“Cold, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes.”

Scott gave him a sideways look. “Doesn’t seem to bother you none.”

Lleland shrugged. “I’m used to the cold. I’m a college master, remember.”

“Hmm.” Scott was silent for a few steps. “What are you going to do when you see the dragon?”

Lleland turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Will you kill it?”

“No.”

“You still think the monsters should live?”

“I do. Despite what Hobbes says, they aren’t interested in attacking the villagers.”

“You’re the only one who believes that.”

Lleland shrugged. “Aaron Drake seems to agree.”

“So you’re basing everything on what Drake says?”

“Drake knows the dragons better than anyone. And his daughter is convinced the dragons would never hurt a human.”

“His daughter, eh? Is she pretty?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Ah, so she is pretty! What else?”

“She’s …” Lleland paused, wondering how to explain Lydia. Courageous. Independent. Strong-willed. A monster. “She’s different,” he finally said, fighting the tightness in his chest.

“Different? Well, having a wife’s not all it’s cracked up to be!”

The days started to blend together as they traveled as fast as they could without exhausting the horses. The weather was cold, and a constant drizzle made the men irritable. Five days after leaving Civitas, Scott’s mount threw a shoe. A passing traveler pointed them towards the nearest town, an hour’s walk away, and as Scott delivered his horse to the blacksmith, the others gathered at the tavern across the road.

“What you here ’bouts?” asked the barkeep as he passed tankards of ale to the men.

Matthew leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dragons,” he said.

“Dragons, eh? Saw one just last week. Flew over the town in a mighty hurry! Gold, but not as big as some I’ve seen. Perhaps it knew you were after it!”