The Dragons' Chosen (24 page)

These caves were never silent; water dripped and flowed, and any noise at all reverberated, echoing off hard stone surfaces. In the early mornings, nesting bats chittered to their young. The man-dragons clomped across the stone corridors, the empty spaces repeating their footfalls and voices as they called back and forth, infiltrating my dreams with their racket. All these I had heard before.

This was new. Not a noise to which I was accustomed.

I almost convinced myself that I was making an acorn into an oak when I heard raspy breathing. Chris stirred restlessly in her sleep, flinging out an arm. The noise stopped. I strained, listening into the black of the cave, holding my breath. Was something there?

Under the cover of my blanket, I searched for my knife. Tristan’s knife. At least he hadn’t asked to have it returned. Another scurrying sound and the stink of fetid meat and rot grew stronger. My finger wrapped around the knife’s handle. Then I recalled I had smelled this before, when Chris and I first came into the caves. I struggled to keep my breath steady even as I inched my other hand out from my blanket, feeling for Chris’s magic fire sticks. I heard a low guttural sound and the click of nails to my right. Something was in the cave room with us.

I struck the fire starter once, holding it with unsteady fingers as I lit the lantern by my side.

Chris rolled over, wincing at the sharp light. “Good grief, what is that smell?” I scanned the cave, hoping nothing was there.

I heard it again, sounding close, just beyond Chris in the shadows. I raised the lantern higher.

“Oh my god!” Chris exclaimed.

There, backed against a wall, not a body’s length from us, I saw a wide black snout, little beady eyes and teeth—too many teeth in a mouth that snarled and sprayed yellowed spittle. As we stared, it lunged at us, hissing, fangs bared. Inside its mouth, I saw the glow of an orange-red ball of roiling liquid.

Chris screeched as it spat and a flame hissed by. Chris grabbed a rock and flung it at the beast. There was a distinct thunk and the creature squealed. It retreated, scuttled back into the depths of our quarters on four porcine-like hooves, a myriad of barbed spines across its back clacking against one another.

From outside our quarters, voices rang out, “What’s happening?”

“The women! One of them screamed.”

Into our sleeping quarters rushed Tristan, Hugh, Rauf and James, swords out, silent but for the low growls that came from deep within their chests.

I pointed a finger toward the dark shadows that cloaked the rock walls. “It went that way.”

The men took their torches and disappeared.

Piers poked his head around the corner. The soft fuzz on his cheeks made him look even younger in this light. “May I come in?”

Chris seemed ready to embrace him. He stayed by our side, three or four measured steps away, trying, but not succeeding, to ignore our state of undress. Every so often he would look our way and then quickly duck his head.

I had grabbed a blanket around me, holding it snug. Chris was practically naked, her shift hanging down mid-hip, with loosely woven short trousers below that.

“I most humbly beg your pardon. This was my watch.” His voice trailed away.

He looked at Chris again as if transfixed, no longer making an effort to disguise his interest. As the light glinted across her chest the writing on her night shift stated, “Come on baby, light my fire.”

Piers shook himself and seemed possessed by an impulse to bolt. Amusement steadied my nerves.

From the outer caverns, one of the men called out. Three other voices joined him, swords clanking as they moved quickly through the echoing rooms. A high pitched scream reverberated through the caves and I cringed.

Within a short time, Rauf and James returned, bearing a limp carcass between them. Hugh led the way, with anger, Tristan close behind, his face closed and tight.

Piers flinched before their gaze. Hugh spoke, first looking at me, then at Chris. “Are you hurt?” We both shook our heads and the tension drained from Hugh. “We promised you safety. If you had been harmed…”

Piers opened his mouth to defend himself. “I stepped away for only a minute, maybe two. I don’t know how a fire boar could have gotten by me.”

Anger, and something else, maybe disappointment, roiled from Hugh’s shoulders. “There are no excuses. You were to protect them.”

Tristan placed his hand on Piers’ shoulder. “Their safety was entrusted to you.” He looked over at Hugh. “Perhaps it’s too great a responsibility for one his age. He’s younger than our princess.”

Hugh pressed his lips together. “Think what could have happened. Boars are nasty-tempered beasts. Not only do they breathe fire, their spines are poisonous.”

James and the others nodded.

Hugh squared his shoulders, ill at ease. “It is upon me to mete out his punishment.” Chris quietly stepped up behind him, resplendent in her chemise.

Hugh looked miserable, his sword grasped in his hand. He raised it without thinking, “Piers…”

Chris squeaked, “No,” and reached out to stop Hugh. He recoiled, startled by her touch, and his elbow drew back, catching her off balance. She fell with a sudden “Oof” and I heard a familiar thunk as her head hit the floor. But she did not disappear.

Hugh spun, his face ashen. I shot a murderous look at him as I helped her stand, slowly, carefully, as she was obviously in pain.

“I, I didn’t know you were there. I would never,” he stammered, holding his free hand out to make amends.

Chris stood level with Hugh, hauled back her arm and punched his shoulder. She yelped in surprise, cradling her knuckles. He didn’t flinch. It must have hurt her, as she gasped, bending forward and holding her arm close to her torso.

After a final rub to her fist, she lifted her head, dismissing his apology. “We’re even now. And stop lording it over Piers. He’s just a boy, for heaven’s sake.” Chris cradled her hand against her body.

Hugh regained his composure, covering his discomfort with a stiff back and stiffer language. He sheathed his sword. “No, I should have been more cautious. Please, forgive me, Lady.” His eyes almost crossed as he fought to ignore her sheer chemise with its curious writing. “I have harmed you.”

“Oh stop it, you’re forgiven already. I’ll be better in a minute, soon as the room stops spinning.” Her face was white and drawn even in the low light. “You’re making too much of a fuss over this.”

“No, this is my error. I…”

“Stop. Okay?” Chris snapped. “I just need to lie down for a second.” She swayed slightly.

Hugh caught her, as it seemed she might fall. Indecision crossed his face as he slowly and gently picked her up, and carried her to our bedding. Chris, after a moment of panic, ceased struggling. She seemed bemused, like a child watching a magician for the first time.

Chapter 35

Bathed in the early morning light, I stood upon the plateau of the mountain looking across the void, where not so long ago I was drugged and tied.

Behind me, the men, the same I feared as dragons, warmed up muscles and tendons swinging their swords. So much had changed since then, it felt a lifetime distant. Now we conversed as companions.

Observing them spar, I could see that they were skilled fighters, with the expertise of many years of training—more than I would have thought necessary for men who could transform themselves into dragons.

Even with all that rode on these tests, my mind couldn’t settle. I felt spikes of questions rolling around my head: questions about Chris, the other princesses, Tristan—my future.

Chris and Hugh exited the cave then, far enough apart to the eye, but they moved as if an invisible rod were attached betwixt, opposing and yet connecting them.

As I caught Chris’s eyes, she shook herself almost as if she were ridding herself of some elusive emotion. When she came to my side, lines of sadness wreathed her smile, as if caught between conflicting desires.

Hugh joined the others, drawing lines in the dirt to define the fencing area. Piers, as per his youthful exuberance, objected. “Why can’t we fight in the sky as dragons?”

Hugh looked up from pacing off the square space. He lifted his head towards the north as if smelling the winds, then seeming satisfied, spoke. “We’ve agreed to meet Genevieve’s dictates. She specified swords. This is to show our expertise as humans, not dragons.”

I nodded, pleased that Hugh was truly respecting my word.

Rauf brushed away Piers’s suggestion, “This is not an opportunity for you to show off your aerial acrobatics, Piers.”

James nodded, waving his hand in my direction. “She couldn’t see you that high up.”

“It’s just a sparring match,” Piers protested. “We could tell her who won.”

“Piers, leave off. We do this as she wishes,” Tristan said.

Piers looked over to me as if hoping I would change my mind. It was hard to resist the plea in his eyes.

I smiled at him, trying to soften my words. “Hugh is correct, my decision stands.”

Hugh and Tristan both inspected the newly-defined contest grounds. As they passed one another, an unseen wall seemed to push them apart. I wondered if they had a row after Tristan intervened on my behalf. The other men sensed it also, and there was silence for longer than felt comfortable.

Rauf, Piers, and James, removing stones and the occasional branch, ignored the disunity between their kinsmen.

Tristan’s smile eased the ripple of tension. “So what next, my brother?”

Hugh met his eyes. “We settle on which of us is to pair off for the first round. And then, we fight.”

It was a simple decision, which they resolved by the draw of sticks.

Within minutes after, Rauf and Hugh stepped inside the small ash-bordered ground, saluted one another and waited for my signal to begin. To the far right, the sunlight caught on the crystals that clung to the entrance of the cave, causing rainbows to shimmer upon the ground.

I gestured for the men to start. Rauf and Hugh began circling carefully around each other.

Rauf lunged forward two steps, sword extended, but Hugh danced out of reach, each of his steps precisely placed.

I turned to Chris to seek her advice. She seemed distracted by the crystals. I sighed inwardly. I needed her counsel. Perhaps she had some thoughts on the men’s swordsmanship. But before I could speak, she wrinkled her brow in consternation, saying. “Remember what I said about a mystery?”

The men engaged again, and I whispered a quick “shhh” to Chris. Hugh took the offensive, his sword barely moving as he took three quick steps in.

Chris imposed again, placing her hand on mine. “I’m not sure if I should even mention this to you. I mean we’re already beyond rational thought. And it doesn’t really have anything to do with this.” She jerked her chin toward the men. “Here we are with dragons and all. They are real. And caves, the
crystal
caves.” I divided my attention between Chris and the duel, giving neither its due.

She looked at me as if checking that I understood. “You asked if there was anything relevant to this about my nana. I said no, but now when I look back…” She twitched one shoulder. “You know what they say, once is happenstance, twice coincidence, but three times, three is enemy action.” She stared at me.

I heard a noise and turned. Rauf was pressing Hugh back to the field’s edge. My hands clasped together. Rauf held the upper hand now, but this looked far from over. Hugh’s stance appeared relaxed and focused.

Chris whispered in my ear. “There’s my name. Chris is short for Crystal. It caused a spat between my parents. I have this funny little birthmark that looks sort of like a crystal.” She tugged her sleeve off her shoulder to show me the small cluster of shiny triangles that marred her skin. “When Nana saw it, she insisted that I be named Crystal. Maybe they looked like gemstones to her.”

I had seen it before; but now close up, the birthmark looked to me more like a cluster of tiny scales. The men stepped back and forth across the ring. Tic, tic, tic. I listened to Chris with half an ear.

“Nana said it was a mark of her long-lost husband’s family. She had a hissy fit, all over a name.” Chris cocked her head. “Nana said that of all her great-grandchildren, I was the one who deserved that name, and she immediately threatened to pull her money, money my parents needed for a down payment on a house. My parents joked she didn’t have to go that far. They actually liked the name. So okay, maybe it is just coincidence: Nana was just a difficult, opinionated old woman. Here we are in the Crystal Caves, but it’s only a name. Right?”