The Dragons' Chosen (4 page)

“But we know this doesn’t make any sense.” She looked at me for confirmation. “Not from an ecological point of view. I mean, given the body mass of that many dragons and, uh, you. Wait, why you? Do you have any enemies? Are there any siblings or other relatives they could have asked for instead? What about other princesses?” I noticed her tapping her sandaled toes against my satin tufted footboard. “Once per century. Is there a special day or year?”

I shook my head. “No one knows when they will come. From what I’ve heard, it varies considerably. Is that significant?”

“Oh yes. My name is Chris, by the way.” She held out her hand. Instinctively, I stretched mine out to meet it. She pumped my hand up and down once and released it.

Chris. Her name was Chris. What an odd name for a girl. Fascinated, I leaned toward her. She suddenly slapped the palm of her hand to her head.

“Ha! Wait. How do the dragons communicate?”

“I don’t know that they do.”

“Well, how did anyone know that they particularly wanted you?”

“A missive was sent along with a gold coin.” I pointed to the token that lay like a viper on a nearby table.

She barely glanced at it before scoffing, “So do dragons have really, really huge pens and pencils? Do they mint coins? Maybe there is some other, more rational explanation—like a human who is doing this?” She looked up with growing skepticism in her eyes.

I was still trying to make sense of the word “pencil” when, with a clank and thunk, a small armored figure struggled up onto my balcony yelling at the top of his lungs. A voice I knew.

The woman named Chris disappeared again. No farewell, no curtsy, no poof of smoke—just gone. I stared at the space where she had been.

On the balcony, there was another crash as the armor-covered form ran into my half-open balcony door.

I walked over to help. He was struggling in armor much too large for him.

“Harold, this isn’t kind. Mother told you not to disturb me this evening. You know she did.”

“No, I’m a knight. Sir Harold, the bravest, the mighty dragon slayer, the most daring, the—”

A knock sounded at the door and a voice spoke, “Genevieve, darling? I hate to disturb you, but I thought I heard Harold. Is your brother in there?”

Harold whispered, “It’s Mother. Hide me.”

Chapter 5

“These rituals are to prepare you for adversity—by walking in the Maze of the Goddess, you will gain understanding and comfort. You are favored, blessed, to have been chosen.”

With these words, the priestess, towering over me in her silk vestments and a self-important expression on her lips, marched me to the entrance of the tall shrubs. Her hands pressed me toward the seldom-used metal gate that now swung ajar. Her shaved forehead glistened with perspiration. I forced myself not to recoil, nor allow her to push me forward. I walked with a feigned lack of fear toward the opening. A wind had risen and was rustling the topmost leaves of the tall green bushes that formed the ritual maze. The maze smelled of flowers and cloves. Perhaps this would be less a trial than a reprieve.

The priestess continued prattling, “This is an opportunity, neither an end nor a beginning, but rather think of this as a circle.” She grabbed both my hands in hers. “You’ve always been a rational child. Our people of Verdeux will praise your name. How many people have saved their kingdom?”

Fourteen of them
, I thought, as I extricated my hands. I knew all of their names now, and I guessed that she knew not one of them. She continued her speech, caught up in the fiction of her own importance, but I noticed she couldn’t meet my eyes for any length of time.

“We, in the church, pray for you. Every night we light candles and burn incense in your honor. Know that your gift, your sacrifice, will be remembered and revered throughout time.”

In a moldy book hidden in a back hall
, I thought, lowering my eyes so she couldn’t guess my thoughts. Through my lashes I saw her eyes flicker over me as if she recalled the annoying detail of my presence. “Whatever I can do to make this time easier for you, the least service, please let me know.”

I sighed, just under my breath, but she heard me. She looked away, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t as swayed by her rhetoric as she wished.

She was a coward, a manipulator, but fortunately, neither clever nor insightful. I turned my eyes, innocent, green and guileless, on her. “Oh, Mother Morigan, thank you. Your support means so much to me. Might I ask for your presence on the journey to the Fandrite Mountains? It would be such a comfort to have you by my side.”

She blanched. “Child, while it would be my heart’s wish to lend what support I could on your journey, my responsibility is to those left behind. But be comforted. You’ll have someone with you to protect your honor.”

I felt a bit giddy. My honor? As if that could be of any importance now. The breeze picked up and I smelled sawdust, copper smelting and, overall, the cloying scent of incense. What new chambers were they building? A monument to me, perhaps?

I launched in with a winsome smile, taking some satisfaction in her discomfort, though I should have felt guilty teasing the poor woman. She would never come and I certainly didn’t want her. “I’m sure Father would be happy to ask the church to give you dispensation to travel. He would find someone, obviously not as skilled as you, to fill in the four or five fortnights you would be away.”

She stuttered a bit and then forged ahead. “No, no, I couldn’t risk your safety by taking a position better served by one of the guards. We must think of your protection; your father knows how dangerous the Fandrite Mountains can be.”

I thought not.

Mother Morigan changed the subject. “But here we are at the maze. “ She resumed her droning speech. “This walk represents your steadfastness and dedication to the Goddess. She will stay by your side.” She breathed deeply in. “I feel her presence. Her perfume envelops and consoles. Fear not that you will be lost and alone; I will be at the end, waiting there in prayer until you complete your time with the Goddess.” She gave my hand a limp squeeze. “The true path will
shine
if your heart and mind are true. Breathe in her serenity.” She gave me a bit of a push toward the opening. “Remember your way will
shine
.”

I took a couple of steps forward and had to head right or walk into a bush. I thought of her last words: the path would shine. She had emphasized this, twice. Was there a reason? She had never been a particularly subtle person. I looked down. The path was three feet wide and covered with a crushed glittery stone. The shrubs on either side were about twenty feet high and very thick. The air felt cool, moist. The shadows made it seem like twilight, as the sun couldn’t quite reach down onto the shaded path.

I started forward again and came almost immediately to another decision point. Right, left or forward? To the left the path dulled, as it did straight forward, but the right was aglow with sparkling stones embedded in the path. Ah, that was it. It was not a test of anything but the ability to see the obvious trail markers. I laughed to myself. In the last two weeks, I had wanted time, time to think, to be by myself, and always I was surrounded by people. Even at night, one of my ladies slept by my side.

I hadn’t seen that oddly dressed and oddly named girl, Chris, since the evening after I was chosen but I thought often about what she had said. I believed, I wished, she might be right. Could there be a mindful being at the end, someone with whom I could negotiate and turn this to a better outcome? Surely someone must have sent the message. Would it be possible to survive this and have the dragons leave without either my death or the destruction of my land?

I had so little to go on, but now there was the whisper of an alternate outcome, and I grasped it as a child would a treasured toy, a talisman to protect against night terrors. I looked at the path again and walked left, away from the glowing stones. Here, neither my ladies nor my family nor tutor could intercede. I could consider my fate and whether I could change it with no one around. There was nothing anyone could do about it. After all, I walked in the sacred maze. No one could disturb my time with the Goddess. I wandered in the soft light for about an hour, always straying away from the path that led out.

As I rounded yet another corner, Chris stood examining the dark green leaves of the shrub, a card sticking out of her waistband. She looked over as I approached, frowning in that evaluating way of hers.

“Oh wow. There you are. I figured you had to be near. You’re always close when I arrive, aren’t you?” This time her chemise was black with stars and the moon painted on it. The bold lettering made no sense but spelled out, “I was born at night, but not last night.”

I smoothed down my taffeta dress with its delicate lace insert, awaiting her curtsy. It didn’t come.

“What is this place?”

I debated not speaking, as she hadn’t shown any sign of proper deference, but court manners seemed wasted on her.

“It’s a maze, Chris, though not a very difficult one. It belongs to the Goddess. If you follow that trail,” I pointed to a way covered with glitter, “you will come to its end.”

I waved my hand at the greenery. “It’s part of the ritual before my journey. It is said to impart wisdom and strength of mind.”

“Goddess?” she asked.

“Yes, the giver of life. The mother of us all.”

“Hmm.” Chris said, looking around at the high shrubs. “Allowing you to be fed to a dragon doesn’t seem very motherly.”

She clearly didn’t understand. Chris didn’t seem to be a spiritual person. It was an awkward moment.

She stood there twirling a lock of her hair. She could be pretty, I surmised, were she properly coiffed and attired. Certainly, her face could be considered attractive, with wide-set gray eyes and pointed chin, though she had been overly out in the sun. And her figure, well, she was comely built. It was hard not to compare her to myself as little was left to one’s imagination in that thin chemise. She seemed somewhat taller than I, with a flatter derriere and slightly larger waist than mine. Her bosom was high and full, perhaps a smidgen over-developed. She must be accustomed to hard work, for I could see muscles in her arms and legs, but she had all her teeth. An enigma.

Again, I wondered at her appearance so close to this time of trial and distress. Surely there must be a connection, some reason she had arrived. I prepared to query her but she spoke up again, seemingly starting right where we had left off the last time she appeared.

“So about the alleged dragons, what reasons could there be for someone or something to want a princess? Could there be some weird form of counting coup by an indigenous people here? Is there anything unusual about you, some strange blood type or an odd personality quirk or anything?”

I cringed at the image of blood. Truly, the woman behaved as if she were a hound on the trail of a deer. “Blood type? It’s red like everyone else’s. Is it different for your people?” I asked.

She puckered her lips. “Oh right. That wasn’t identified until mid-1900’s. Yours is clearly a pre-enlightenment culture. I can’t figure out if I’m falling back in time, or entering some other world entirely. Because in my world, dragons don’t exist.”

I inhaled deeply as I searched for a common thread between us. “Perhaps we should start somewhere else. How did you get here? This maze is barred but for those whose path might be—shortened”—I grappled for the right words—“by heroic events.”

She slid to the ground, sitting; her feet sprawled out in front of her like a three-year-old, picking at a loose stone on the path with her chipped fingernail. “I’m not totally sure.” She removed the card from her waist, holding it up for me to see. “This is the catalyst, at least I think so. My great-grandmother left this for me.” She turned the metal card over in her hands. I saw a woman’s image embossed into the rectangle, a shiny golden card that reeked of magic, the instrument of witches and seers—carnival fortune tellers.

“It came with a little rhyme. A silly thing actually or…” She looked at me. “Perhaps not so silly.” She gave a small, nervous shrug.

I moved closer. “Is it my future you see in your card? Is that it?” Logically, my future looked fairly straightforward. Short, messy, and soon to be over.