The Dragons' Chosen (14 page)

Nicolette, Chantal, Alexandra, Penelope,

Sophia, Elsbeth,

Rosalind, Willa,

Lynette, Victoria.

I paused, then named, Genevieve.

And, lastly, I named Chris, wondering if she too were lost.

Chapter 18

Late that evening, after I said my goodnights to everyone, I lay awake in my tent. It seemed that as my remaining days and nights dwindled, my questions multiplied like court petitioners. Where did the dragons come from? Who was the man from the previous night? Where had I seen him before? Would I be able to meet my fate with courage and honor? Was there not a possible way out? Where, oh where was Chris? Was she hurt? Even alive?

The men were quiet. Since the wolves, the captain had increased the night sentries. All the men looked worn. The captain’s face was drawn, Michael had bags under his eyes that could hold water. As the silence of the evening settled, I heard tree frogs and cicadas, and the various noises of sleeping men. Round and round my mind circled with questions.

Nearby I heard lowered voices, but they rang clear for me. Captain Markus’s low bass pounded though my thin tent wall, “What do you think you’re doing? You know what’s going to happen. This isn’t a simple ride in the country.”

I couldn’t hear George’s response, a whispered answer, too low to catch.

“Your coddling her is not doing her any favors.”

George raised his voice a notch. “She’s but a young girl, the same age as my Molly. There’s no need to make this journey any rougher than it already is. She’s never complained, not once. Each morning I see her arise, her face pale as my arse, with that
look
in her eyes. Can’t you see the terror? She knows. She’s not stupid. How can you deny her the least bit of kindness?”

“It isn’t being kind to her that I worry about. It’s you. We are going to have to leave her in three days. To a fate that none of us can bear to think about, much less mention. You saw the beasts flying above us the other day. Not one of us is going to come out of this unscathed. Do you really believe that you can cavort with her all these days and then calmly walk away after leaving her to the dragons? I can’t. I know that. I’ll keep my distance and…” there was a pause “—I strongly recommend that you do, too.”

I lay unmoving for the next hour. Ice pulsing, dams breaking in my veins. Sleep was not possible. Finally, I got up and went to sit at the fire. George was there staring into the night. He looked up as I approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

I smiled. “I needed to talk with you.” I prodded another log into the fire. “I overheard you and the captain.”

He watched me for some moments before responding. “Tonight?”

“Yes.”

He blew out a sigh. “Hard enough to know, isn’t it, without hearing us creeping around arguing about it.”

“True. Still, it’s a good thing for me to acknowledge.” I leaned my elbows on my knees and turned my head toward him. “You’ve been wonderful to me and made this trip endurable. You, and the others. I can appreciate the captain’s feelings on this, but I’ve had an opportunity that few royals have. And I want you to know that I am very grateful.”

He sat silent, attending me, still as the night.

I drew a breath. “But he is right. I hadn’t thought how hard this would be for you and the men. You must carry no guilt back, no remorse.” I hesitated, swallowing, beating down a sob. “You have all done a service to me and I am charging you with making them understand, after….” I stopped as my voice started to waver. I waited until I could speak once again. “Thank them, and thank you, for befriending me.”

Chapter 19

A single day remained, one last sunset and sunrise. Tomorrow we would be at the dragons’ hold, and Chris had not returned. I had no doubt that if she lived, she would be here.

We climbed a trail that clung to the mountain much like a burr upon the hem of my gown. The slightest misstep sent rocks raveling down the mountain path, merging with trickles of silver waterfalls that appeared and disappeared as we rounded corners. Fern crouching in crevices stuck their fronds up through the mosses and bracken that blanketed the path. We stopped often now, letting the horses breathe. Winter hung his head as he walked, blowing through his nose.

Captain Markus called a halt at an outcrop of rock where we pressed away from the mountain’s edge. Here he directed the men to unload all supplies not needed for the last steep push over the mountain’s crest, for the next day, my last day, and cache them for when they returned. The captain spoke to Malcolm, and he shot a quick startled look at me before dismounting and hobbling Janis.

I walked over to him, “No, that’s Chris’s horse. She’ll need something to ride.”

He looked at me with sympathy. “We all need to accept the fact that she is not coming back.” After staring at him for too long, I spun and walked away. Above, three buzzards circled. I turned my head to the stone wall and willed myself not to cry. I didn’t offer my help as my men pulled out food for our midday meal.

Once we had eaten our cold luncheon of cheese and dry hard tack, the captain determined the horses were sufficiently rested. He seemed anxious to put this rocky promontory behind us, as was I. The ground dropped into the open space below us into the mists that hugged the land. Keeping my head turned from the edge, I mounted, urging Winter forward.

The air whirled. Winter reared. Dust rose, rocks scattered. A figure tumbled near me. It was Chris, sliding off the path, down the mountain. She screamed, grabbing for a small scrubby black pine that clung to the cliff’s edge. Captain Markus was nearest. He leapt off his horse, tying a rope from his waist to his saddle as he moved, then flung himself face down at the cliff’s edge and wrapped his hand around Chris’s wrist. Her hand slipped from the tree and another scream echoed across the mountain. Markus slid forward, now dangling off the edge, holding tight to one wrist while reaching for Chris’s other hand. “Back, back, Pumpkin.” The big roan dug his feet in the ground and stepped back. Stones sprayed as the horse fought for purchase. Markus cursed, fingers stretching for Chris’s other hand as she hung out over the precipice. Michael and Lawrence dismounted and stood on either side of the captain’s horse, steadying him. “Forward one more step and I’ll have her.” The horse took a careful step, then dug his heels into the stone and dirt as the captain launched himself downward, latching onto Chris’s arm. “Now back, damn it! Back!”

I hadn’t noticed that I had dismounted, nor had I felt Lucinda’s hands on my shoulders. I shook her off, racing to their side, overcoming my fear of the abyss, as Markus pulled Chris over the canyon’s rim to safety. Markus looked shaken and white beneath his normal stony facade.

“Thank you for saving her,” I whispered.

Lawrence gently led Chris to safer ground as the captain undid the rope from his waist. Chris bent over, palms on her knees, breathing deep gulps of air. She stood and faced Captain Markus, holding out her hand. He clasped it; the lines on his face seemed etched even deeper than they had been.

“Thank you, thank you.” They both seemed uncomfortable with any further conversation.

The captain insisted that we leave immediately. The day was passing and we had to be over this ridge by evening. George unhobbled and saddled Janis before I had steadied myself. Lucinda hastily shoved Chris into a large sack-like jacket and skirt, covering her chemise that stated in bold lettering, “Hell, no. We won’t go.”

Tom watched Chris with a sullen look on his face, but never spoke.

We were mounted and moving before I had a moment of privacy with Chris.

As we single filed up the trail, I closed the distance between us. “Are you well?”

A funny expression crossed her face. “Well, enough. It’s been pretty exciting over in Berkeley also.”

“What happened after you disappeared?”

“Ah, well…my friends heard me groaning in my dorm. They called the campus nurse. I had a mild concussion, or so they insisted. Then my dorm roommate called my mother. Big mistake. I’d been telling people that I had gone home to Fresno when I was here.” Her nose wrinkled as she said, “It was getting very complicated over there. Now my mom thinks I’m involved with some radical group and got the concussion during a protest in Berkeley. Mom wanted to call the newspapers to register a police brutality complaint. My friends don’t know what to think.”

Perhaps it was frayed nerves or perhaps it was the rush from her fall as she rattled on to me about her adventures, with nary a breath between her words. I couldn’t understand a single piece of what she said, but I was so grateful she was back.

I gave her what I hoped was my most sympathetic expression. She went on, throwing up her hands. “I’m not a good liar, Genny. Dissembling and redirecting is getting more and more difficult, but the truth would get me locked up in some padded ward, pumped up with drugs.” She arched her eyebrow at me. “Not how I want to spend my winter break.”

She swept her hands out at my questioning look. “No matter, I’m caught between two worlds and not quite sure how to deal with it.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question when Chris got an odd light in her eyes and spoke yet again, spilling forth words in what seemed an attempt to ease her discomfort.

She looked down at her hand as if inspecting her nails. “In some odd ways it has been very useful. I wrote a paper about this place for my Women’s Studies class a week ago. I got an A plus on it for creativity and the use of metaphors. It was titled ‘Fantasy World Images to Explicate Sexual Politics.’ But this is more like something out of
The Hobbit
.” She frowned over at the men as if re-assessing. “Only there’s no Gandalf and no hobbits either.” She jerked her head over toward Tom with an evil grin, “Well, maybe there’s a goblin.”

I let her continue, trying to imagine, but not succeeding, what it must be like living as she was between two worlds.

“I don’t know if you are real or some bizarre section of my brain going walkabout, but when I came to myself in my dorm, I smelled of dirt, saddle leather and sweaty horse. This last time I also had blisters on my butt from riding and a very large bump on the back of my head. I was so covered in horsehair that my friends asked me if I had been wrestling with a dog.”

Chris let out an unladylike snort as her hand rose to touch her head. She winced. “But,” Chris’s voice dropped and I leaned sideways in my saddle to hear her. “I saw them too—those things in the sky—right before we got lost in the woods.” She shivered and was quiet. “Bottom line, you’re not going to be dragon fodder. Not if there is anything I can do to change this.”

At last, something I did understand.

Chapter 20