AutumnQuest (6 page)

It is not difficult to drive a king well and truly mad. It is only time-consuming. It requires generations of patience and planning.

The plan is in place and the first steps down the long road have been taken.

I, Wals, DragonLord to King Bwellim, Twelfth Absolute Monarch of Alloway, hereby write this record, that the plan not be forgotten, though it must be kept secret.

Heretofore, kings were allowed to wed whom they chose. Thanks to careful and persistent counsel, the law has been changed—ostensibly to keep the line of succession pure—such that the king must wed no further from the bloodline than first cousin.

In time, a king will come to power, one who is weak-minded enough that my plan shall bear its final fruit, and then we shall seize power for ourselves.

~from
The Cursed Book of Secret Knowledge
by Wals, DragonLord

When all was over, Papa gathered my sobbing self into his arms. “I know you don’t understand, my little one,” he said, rocking me and stroking my hair. “But you must never ever say such things. Not to me, not to Mama, not to Breyard, not to yourself.”

Red smoke began to obscure the image until it filled the sphere again. Oleeda placed it back on its stand on the table, then wiped tears from her eyes. “I see,” she said, her voice cracking. “Indeed, I see.” Her eyes blazed blue as she watched me.

I was no longer crying. I felt as if I’d just released a load that I’d been carrying, weighing me down, for as long as I could remember. I could float away on a breath of breeze. Rising from my knees, I returned to the chair.

“He never explained his behavior?”

“No. Whatever his reason, it worked. I never mentioned it to anyone again. It didn’t stop it from happening, though.”

“No, it would not. What you experienced—this connection with animals, understanding them as if they had human voices speaking in your head—is one of the first signs that you possess the gift of maejic.”

There was that word again. I shook my head, but before I could speak, Oleeda went on.

“Maejic is the art from which the craft and the word ‘magic’ derive. It is very old, but it has fallen out of favor. As a matter of fact, once the dragons were overthrown, King Benig, First Absolute Monarch, outlawed it—as if you can outlaw a spiritual gift. A later king made it a capital offence.”

“Capital? As in . . .”

“Punishable by death,” Oleeda finished for me. “Execution by facing a dragon in a fight to the death. And King Erno is meticulous in observing that particular law. What happened with that dog must have frightened your father half to death.” I nodded, beginning to understand. “When we touched, you felt it, too.” A statement, not a question.

I rubbed my fingertips, remembering. “Yes. I’ve only felt that once before.”

She sat up straight and looked me in the eye. “Whom?” It came out almost as a bark.

“No one. It was the dragon egg.”

Oleeda leapt to her feet. The poor cat scarcely had time to right itself before it hit the ground. “Dragon egg? Tell me! Quick!”

She paced around the room as I told her the whole story. Her hands moved as I spoke, almost as if she were shaping the tale. It was very distracting, and at one point I faltered until she spun around and motioned me to continue.

“It fits,” she said when I finished. “It all fits. In my lifetime. Right here with me.”

I wanted to ask what she was talking about but was afraid to disturb the tension that filled the air.

“Not a moment to lose. Must take care of everything tonight.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “How? I need help. But who?” She snapped her fingers. “Kibee. Kibee will do it.”

She stopped speaking, but kept whirling around the room, faster and faster. The cat jumped back into the chair and watched her going round and round. Then she stopped in front to me, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Are you ready to go?”

I shot to my feet “Go? Go where?” How could Oleeda possibly have guessed that that’s exactly what I meant to do?

Her voice was low but more intense than it had yet been. “You must find the dragon. And you must leave as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at latest.”

I dropped onto my chair. Going in the dead of night had been my plan, but not for this. “But how am I supposed to find this dragon? She could be anywhere. And . . . and why?”

“Did you not say she is red?”

“Yes, but . . .” I gave a small gasp as the truth sank in. “Kibee told me that old story. But if the red dragons were wiped out, how could there be another one now?”

Oleeda once again dislodged the cat and sat in the chair. “Before the great red dragon matriarch Xyona was slain, she spoke a prophecy:

Though go we to rest now,

Say not thou ‘defeat.’

The power of ages

Again shall be meet.

Ascent from the ashes,

Descent from the stars,

The power of ages

Once more shall be ours.

A strong one will quicken

And harvest alone

The power of ages

To lead us all home.”

The ominous words fell heavily at our feet. Then Oleeda went on in a quiet voice. “Can you imagine what would happen if Erno came into possession of this beast of the prophecy? He would corrupt her, twist her, turn her into a fearsome monster.”

“But I’m just a novice. What could I do to stop it?”

“You must find her to deliver her into the keeping of the mages.”

“Magicians?”

“Magicians.” Oleeda made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Those who have not been bought by Erno do well enough as far as it goes. But I speak of mages—those who practice maejic. It is mages who will know how to properly handle this red dragon, how to nurture her and bring her to her full power.” A tender smile came to her face and she absently stroked the cat’s head. “This is the beginning. A new era dawns, and we will see it. We will be part of it.”

I sat there trying to make sense of her words—and failing. The flames of the fire crackled in the silence. When it didn’t appear that Oleeda was going to say any more, I mustered up the nerve to ask, “But why me? I don’t understand.”

“Because she knows you.” She made it sound as if this should be obvious. “You were at her hatching; you held her. Should you come near her, she will sense you and seek you out.”

“How can you be so sure?” Then I wondered why I was protesting so much. This turn of events played into my plans perfectly. All I had to do was go along with everything, and this time tomorrow I would be on the road to proving Breyard’s innocence and be much better provisioned than I ever could have hoped. After all, I’d intended to run away; now I was being sent on a mission. “I mean, of course I’ll do it. I’m just wondering . . .” My voice trailed off as I tried to decide what to ask first.

“Of course. You will have many questions, and I will do all that I can to answer. But first, I must find Kibee and have him make preparations.”

A moment later she was gone. I glanced at the sphere sitting on the table between the chairs to find it perfectly transparent. Not a trace of cloudiness or the lifelike images it had held not long before. Curious, I reached out and touched it. Where my fingers made contact, the surface glowed a pale yellowish green. With a forefinger, I traced a pattern of swirls, smiling at the trail of color. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I ought not to be toying with an object of such obvious power. I sat back and pondered Oleeda’s plan. It seemed like foolishness.

The cat stretched, then walked over to me and unexpectedly jumped into my lap. As I pet it—him, I quickly learned—I felt a confidence seep into my soul. This cat was sure that I must go and sure that I would succeed. This once, I didn’t reject the cat’s thoughts. He purred loudly as I scratched behind his ears.

Fine. I would find the dragon. I didn’t know what I would do when I found her, but I’d worry about that later. Then I would find the carter. I would ask him myself why he’d lied to the Royal Guard, why he’d set my brother up. And when I knew the answers, I would go to the capital and make them believe me. I fell into a daydream where Breyard and I walked free through the city streets, seeing the sights and laughing at the tales we would take home to our parents.

Sunrise found me on the road. Wearing heavy black leggings, a long-sleeved tan cotton tunic, and sturdy boots, all supplied by Kibee the night before, I’d ridden away from the retreat house before dawn. My pack was now slung across the back of the saddle, but later I would have to carry it.

The plan Oleeda and Kibee had devised seemed simple enough: I would deliver the horse on which I now rode to Gam, an important, well-respected trader in the village Duckbrook, not far from Roylinn—indeed, the first one Kibee and I had passed through the day before. This meant backtracking north almost the whole way I’d come with Kibee the day before, but it would put me near the woods where Breyard had released the baby dragon. It also meant that no one at the retreat house would question my absence for at least a week, since Oleeda would say that, desiring some time alone, she had given me permission to return on foot.

Once I found the dragon—and, despite my doubts, Oleeda continued to insist that this would be the easy part—I would head farther north towards the village of Crowthorne, where I would make contact with the chief mage of the region. Except, of course, that that’s not what I was going to do. I would send the dragon on to Crowthorne and then look to my own journey at that point. I had only a month to get to Penwick and I wasn’t going to waste any of that time with a dragon that, I felt sure, didn’t need my help.

For now, having set out several hours before dawn, I could enjoy watching the colors return to the landscape with the rising sun.

The miles fell away under the horse’s steady pace. Around midday, I stopped and dismounted at a place where a stream flowed near the road. The horse drank gratefully, then grazed while I ate some bread and cheese. Most of the food Kibee had supplied was the kind that wouldn’t spoil quickly—dried meat, dried fish, and dried fruit—and I was surprised at how much he’d fit into the pack. But he’d also put in some fresh food for the first day or so, and the simple meal tasted delicious in the open air.

After about half an hour, we headed out again. The horse’s mood seemed brighter, as if perhaps the early start had made him feel grumpy. To my surprise, I found myself enjoying traveling in the warm afternoon sunshine, with no thought of where I was going and why.

Well before nightfall, I arrived at Duckbrook. I twisted around in the saddle to pull Kibee’s hand-drawn map from the front pocket of my pack. The road took me straight into the village. Past the market square, I turned left. The way seemed to be little more than an alley but soon widened into a wagon track. I rode past brick houses and daub-and-wattle cottages, where children playing in the front gardens paused in their games to watch the stranger go by. The last house—my destination—was surrounded by a high wall. I dismounted at the gate and rang the bell.

After what seemed like a long time, light footsteps came crunching along what must be a gravel path, and the gate finally opened.

“Ah, there you are,” said a girl who looked about my age and was dressed in servant’s garb. “Mistress was beginning to think you’d never get here. Come along, then.”

I led the horse through the gate, wondering what the girl was talking about. I couldn’t possibly be expected.