There Be Dragons (12 page)

All about … people danced and sang, making way for him and his party.

They came to the center.

“Pietro! Geovana! Carlo!” he cried.

And, of course, as was their way, once he had dismounted, they all greeted one another with warm affection, hugging, kissing on both cheeks.

“Well, Orisini, this is an interesting piece of business you’ve devised,” Pietro told him.

Orisini smiled. “It’s what must be. We shall see if we have all envisioned the future as it should be for our children.”

He turned back to see his son. To his consternation, it appeared that Michelo was looking anxiously through the crowd.

“She isn’t here.”

“Who?”

“The girl I will wed.”

“Son! We agreed that where the olive branch falls …”

“Father, we didn’t exactly agree—”

“Look! See, it is true! There is a falcon, a beautiful falcon! Magic does exist; I am not in my dotage!
Here comes the falcon!”

The people began to ooh and aah. Michelo saw everyone was looking through the square with amazement—his father’s certainty that a falcon would come was being proven to be true. Pietro was staring at the creature with a frown, Carlo with anger, and Geovana …

Was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Michelo looked around anxiously. Indeed, the beautiful falcon he had first seen by the stream was now flying through the square.

But his angel of the night was nowhere to be seen.

He gritted his teeth.
No, no, no … !

Then he saw her. She came streaking out from the courtyard of the castle, agile, graceful, running … seeming to slip through the crowd like a wisp of smoke. She hurried to where Daphne stood, along with all the young women of the dukedom and counties. She and Daphne smiled, embraced, and stepped apart.

His heart seemed to thunder and tremble in his chest. The falcon was an omen, a true touch of magic, and she would set things straight. She flew over the crowd, an olive branch held lightly in her beak. She had come to help them; all would be well.

And then …

Suddenly, there was a dragon.

A dragon, yes, huge and snarling, its smoke-infused cry so loud and piercing that people screamed out with dismay, stepping back. As the falcon dove downward, the dragon tore through the crowd, flying low, its terrible tail whipping about, as it zigged and zagged, furiously going after the incredible falcon. The falcon flew hard, heading straight for Marina d’Or. But the dragon, creating fear and panic in the crowd, was nearly atop the falcon.

The falcon let forth a caw.

The olive branch dropped as the falcon burst forward with speed, but then veered, and flapped her wings into a furious soar, the heinous, huge dragon at her heels.

The olive branch fell directly between Marina and Daphne.

The people began to murmur, and many trembled as they stepped forward again, watching the falcon and dragon disappear up the hill, and into the forest.

Suddenly, the falcon, the dragon still hard upon her, rose and fell, clawing at the dragon.

And they could all hear the cry of rage and pain that the dragon let out, falling back. As they all watched in silence, the falcon flew on.

For several minutes, the wind blew, and it was all the sound in the world as the people watched, sighing with relief as the falcon appeared alive and well and uninjured on the crest of another peak.

“It was a dragon!” someone called out. “There
is
a dragon!”

“A dragon!” someone else repeated with horror.

“And a falcon!” Duke Orisini announced, his voice strong.

The people moved forward again, all staring at the olive branch on the ground, fallen between the two stepsisters.

Again, there was silence, as moments ticked away.

“It is before Daphne, as it should be!” Pietro exclaimed.

“Indeed, exactly!” came the strong sound of a woman’s voice.

As Michelo walked forward himself, he saw that Geovana was there. Her headdress was a bit askew, and she looked winded and flustered. She was bent slightly, as if she had a pain in her ribs. But she was right there, with them, insisting that the branch was closer to Daphne.

His father was at his side. “Wait!” he implored. “There must be a measurement. Where is the ducal measurer?”

Michelo stood in silence as they waited. Marina’s eyes touched his, blue as the sea, as the sky, and he stared back with all the love in his heart.

The ducal measurer arrived, and with consternation, rose to inform them all that the olive branch lay exactly between the two girls.

The great Duke Orisini Fiorelli was silent. Michelo stepped forward, producing the satin slipper. “Father, this is the shoe of the woman I will marry. It will fit the right foot.”

He’d been so certain …

Then, he knew he was wrong as he saw the confusion that touched his beloved’s face—and the horror that was reflected in Daphne’s.

Still, he bent down before Marina. She leant over to whisper to him, “My feet are huge! I’m so sorry … that will never fit me.”

And close to her, Daphne whispered. “It’s mine! I lost it the other day. Good Lord, what will we do now?”

Marina, bending low, whispered in sorrow, “I am so … so sorry. Daphne is right! What will we do now? I suppose the wife of a duke’s son should have dainty feet … mine are just … big!”

“There, the shoe fits Daphne!” Geovana cried loudly.

“No!” Michelo cried. “I am in love with Marina, the child of the late and beloved Nico, and his princess bride, Elisia.”

“And I am in love with Michelo!” Marina vowed, looking with love into his eyes, that he should declare his devotion there, in the square, before his father, his mother, and everyone.

“And I’m in love with Armand!” Daphne cried, bravely stepping forward with her conviction.

Pietro d’Artois gasped, turned red, and looked as if he would have apoplexy.

“I love Daphne!” Armand shouted, pushing his way through the crowd.

But before he could do more than come near, there was the sudden sound of a horrible explosion in the air.

It was like thunder, and it was as if lightning lit up the sky.

And there, above them all, was the dragon again.

Now there was time to really see the being, to study it.

Huge, beautiful in its ferocity, multicolored, with evil-glowing yellow and gold eyes, it soared above them, and the lightning was the fire of its breath, and the thunder the flap of its wings.

The people began to scream. After all, the dragon had been after the falcon. Now it was after them, invoking pure terror! The people ran in confusion, desperate for cover.

Jagged streaks of fire fell upon the square. Thatch-roofed shops went up in explosions of flame.

Michelo cast himself upon Marina, and they fell to the ground together. All around them, people screamed and ran.

Then, after raining down fire bolts and creating absolute mayhem, the dragon was gone.

Slowly … slowly, the people began to reappear in the square, murmuring about omens, and saying with fear that if there was good magic, such as the gorgeous falcon, it was natural that there should be bad magic.

Like the dragon.

The dragon—gone again. It was as if it had come, and then completely disappeared.

Michelo cried out, “We must be calm. Evil has been fought before; evil can be fought again!”

“Fought! What, shall we bring about the deaths of every man, woman, and child in all the land?” It was Geovana, naturally.

She walked to the center of the square and cast out her arms. She looked more disheveled even than she had before. In fact, quite frankly, she was something of a mess.

And yet she appeared …

Powerful. Her eyes were as gold as the dragon’s, and her voice carried the thunder of the flapping of its wings.

“We have awakened the great Dragon in the Den! He is filled with rage. The old ways, the omens, have been invoked. Now, if any are to live, we must give him his due, his sacrifice!”

She whirled then, turning to the place where all four lovers had gathered together.

“The old ways have indeed been resurrected, and the result—that terrible dragon! As in the days of old, we must do our part. He must have a sacrifice, if anyone is to live, to survive! And his sacrifice must be the fairest damsel in the land. The woman who would be wife to the greatest leader, the greatest warrior. The woman who would wed Michelo, heir to the great Duke Fiorelli!”

There was a shuffling sound. It was Pietro d’Artois. He stepped forward, anxiously pushing the olive branch with his toe until it lay directly before Marina.

He wasn’t a bad man, not really. But then, he’d been given a chance to give either his stepdaughter or his precious Daphne up to a dragon that meant to have her for dinner … literally!

“Marina!” he cried. “Alas!” And he either wept, or pretended to do so. “It must be Marina, child of Nico d’Or, who stole away the Princess Elisia when she was in the dragon’s keeping. It must be Marina!”

“Aye, Marina!” cried someone in the crowd.

“No!” someone else protested.

“She must be given to the dragon—or else it will eat us all!” another voice roared.

“Wait a minute!” Michelo insisted. “What are you? Men—or mice? We will put together a hunting party. We will fight the dragon!”

“It should have been me!” Daphne said. “I am the upstart here, really!”

“Shut up, girl!” Pietro chastised her firmly.

Marina stepped forward. “Seriously! What are we? Cowards? Michelo is right. Appease the dragon once, and he will take everything from you. I will fight! We must all fight!”

“Men—or mice?” Michelo shouted again.

And a fellow, his cap in his hands, stepped forward. “To the dragon, great Michelo, I’m afraid that we are nothing but mice!”

“Duke Fiorelli! The dragon must be given his due!” another cried from the back of the crowd. Michelo thought that the voice sounded suspiciously like that of the Countess Geovana.

His father sighed deeply.

“We’ll all die!” the miller’s wife cried out.

“Duke, you must save us!” the baker himself pleaded.

Orisini Fiorelli looked at his son. He was obviously in great torment. “Michelo, I am sorry. The people come first,” he said softly.

“No!” Michelo said.

But his father raised his voice. “Place my son under arrest. And God forgive us all, but … take the Lady Marina, and see that she is kept under lock and key and guard …”

“Father, no, no!” Michelo protested.

But the guards were racing around him, doing his father’s bidding. He struggled, but there were too many, and in minutes, despite the black eyes and swollen jaws he doled out, he was in chains.

And when he looked across the square, Marina, calm, dignified, tall, and beautiful, was in chains, as well. Eyes meeting his.

She spoke to him, and the crowd, as a wistful smile touched her face. “I will not go easily!” she cried. “I will fight the dragon, when the time comes. I will fight it for myself—and for your daughters, because if you give in now, the dragon will demand more and more.”

There was silence.

“This is foolish! You would think that we were living in the Dark Ages!” Marina cried.

Daphne cleared her throat and said softly, “We are living in the Dark Ages.”

Marina shot her a quick glance, and nodded. “We must no longer live in the Dark Ages! We must find enlightenment in strength, in unity!”

“We will fight!” Michelo raged, straining against his shackles.

“They’re right!” came another cry, and this time, it was the beautiful dance tutor, Serafina, who stepped forward. “We mustn’t ever give into tyranny of any kind!” she cried. “Marina has spoken with such truth. If we give in now, the dragon will have us at its mercy. It will demand that we give in time and time again, and that we give in a little more each time. We must fight!”

But Geovana stepped forward. “Fight the dragon, and everyone will perish!” she proclaimed. “Take them away! Now!” she told the guards.

“Geovana, you must listen!” Serafina begged. Geovana offered a grim smile, and raised a hand, and guards rushed forward to seize Serafina. “See that she is banished,” Geovana said sweetly, and lowered her head to offer a soft whisper to Serafina. “Return, and you will be the next sacrifice we offer to the dragon.”