The Runaway Princess (7 page)

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Authors: Kate Coombs

BOOK: The Runaway Princess
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“And Orl?”
“Who?”
“The old man. Our guide.”
“He found his way up the mountain. Let him find his way down.”
“Yes, my lord.” Horace left the chamber.
 
If Meg tilted her head at an uncomfortable angle, she could just see Cam behind a moldering chest. After a few moments, she could hear Prince Vantor hacking away at the huge skeleton with his sword.
The little dragon chuffed oddly, climbing over a stack of coins. When it sneezed, flame shot toward the ceiling.
“I'll put that out soon enough,” Vantor called
jovially. Meg didn't think he'd be very jovial if he found her there. Or Cam.
Horace soon came back with a group of Vantor's men, and the newcomers gasped at the sight of the treasure. Finally they were calm enough to listen to their leader's words of inspiration.
“Men,” the prince said sonorously, “it's not that I doubt your loyalty, but I'll search every one of you when we're ready to go down the mountain and again when we set up camp. If I find so much as a single gold coin in your pocket, I'll cut your throat and leave your body for the wolves.”
The men muttered.
“However,” the prince continued, “do good work, and when this is all over I will reward each of you with a share of the treasure.”
The men cheered cautiously.
Behind the chest, Cam rolled his eyes. Vantor didn't seem like the sharing type. Cam managed to look over at Meg. She made a face. Then her expression changed. Cam stopped smiling, too, remembering abruptly that Prince Vantor was seeking Meg's hand in marriage. Maybe the prince would just take the treasure and go home. It would be worth it to be rid of him.
FOR THE NEXT HOUR, VANTOR'S MEN CAME IN and out of the cave at an alarming rate, carrying treasure away. If they keep going like this, they'll soon reach our side of the hoard, Meg thought. A moment later, she forgot about the men when the baby dragon came right up to her foot and breathed on it with its too-hot breath.
Stop that!
Meg thought. The dragon tasted her ankle with its forked tongue. She wondered with a shock if Cam was right, if the darling creature would open its spiky jaws and bite her foot right off. Meg lay tightly, willing the baby dragon to leave.
Go away!
she thought at it. With a cranky snuffle, the dragon moved off around the chamber.
“Hey, out of my way!” One of Vantor's men tried kicking the dragon and got his ankle burned for his trouble. Vantor only laughed.
Back and forth the men went, till Meg thought she might fall asleep and give herself away by rolling over.
But at last the prince's servants must have stopped to rest, since they didn't return. Instead, Vantor held a conference with Horace in the dragon's chamber. “We've got as much as we can carry,” the servant said.
“We're not leaving any of this here!”
“We can make another trip tomorrow.”
The prince said nothing.
“Or later tonight,” Horace went on. “We'll post a guard.”
“You stand guard. I don't trust the others.”
And, mercifully, they left.
Meg and Cam waited a long while, but all was quiet except for the sound of the dragon baby creeping along like a great lizard. Meg lifted her head, then stood up. “Where did he go?” she whispered.
Cam stood up, too. “He'll be at the cave mouth.”
Meg put her hands on her hips. “We've got to get out,” she said, “and we're taking the dragon with us.”
 
Nort shifted about anxiously as the sun dropped lower and lower. Where was the princess? Arbel might be a bit dim, but he would certainly notice a rope hanging down from the tower window.
Someone was moving toward him from the castle. Nort frantically cast about for a convincing story to tell the older guard, but when the figure came closer he saw that it was Dilly. Nort leaned his spear against the wall and hurried forward to meet her.
“Well?” she said, looking up at the tower with
its dark window. “I've got to tell her about the witch.”
Nort shook his head. “I don't know where she is, and Arbel will be here any minute.” His face lit up. “But you can go up! This is definitely an emergency!”
Dilly backed away. “No it isn't!”
“Dilly!”
Her face whitened. “I can't, Nort. I want to help, truly, but I can't.”
“Why not?”
Dilly bit her lip. “Promise you won't laugh?” She couldn't believe she was confiding in Nort the Creep.
“I promise.” Nort actually sounded kind.
Dilly steeled herself. “I'm afraid of heights.”
“Oh.” Nort looked surprised, but he didn't laugh. He didn't seem to understand, either. “Dilly, you have to. Arbel will see the rope.”
“Not just a little afraid,” Dilly cried. “I'll fall!”
She could tell Nort was starting to believe her. “We've got to do
something
,” he said.
Dilly thought. “We could tell him—we could say …” She closed her mouth.
“I've tried all day to think of a good reason for a rope to be hanging out Meg's window, and I haven't come up with a single thing,” Nort said, shaking his head.
Then Dilly smiled. “I know.”
“What?”
“You can climb up there.”
“Me?” Nort yelped. “I'm not a princess!”
“Neither am I,” Dilly pointed out. “You don't have to talk.”
“Arbel would wonder where I was,” Nort said unwillingly.
“I'll cover for you down here.” Dilly paused. “Please?” she added, flushing.
Nort grinned suddenly. “Clever Dilly, are you asking for a favor?”
She snorted. “It's for the princess, and you know it.”
He waited.
“Yes!” Dilly said. “Now go!”
“All right,” Nort told her sweetly. He climbed up the rope faster than Dilly would have thought possible.
A moment later, the rope slid upward. A candle flared high in the tower. Not ten minutes after that, Arbel came tramping across the meadow.
“What's this, then?” he said, bewildered. “Young Dilly?”
Dilly nodded. “Oh, sir,” she said, going all wide-eyed for the second time in one day, “they needed Nort back at the castle. They said you'd be here any minute, so it would be all right.”
Arbel frowned. “And who might ‘they' be?”
“Why, Hanak,” Dilly told him.
 
Bain shifted, crouching behind the rocks near the dragon's cave. At first he had been puzzled. Smoke still blew out of the cave, but there was no sign of a battle.
Dragons usually managed to kill a few of a prince's men-at-arms, if not the prince himself. Perhaps the dragon had been dead for some time, and the fire was manmade. Vantor's men had been hauling treasure out of the cave for at least an hour. A live dragon wouldn't have put up with that.
When the men brought out a clutch of long, dry bones, Bain knew he was right. Vantor hadn't had to fight a dragon at all. And, Bain realized, Greeve hadn't even known its dragon was dead. Bain chuckled softly to himself.
Then he watched Vantor stride out of the cave behind the men, leaving his most trusted servant just inside. Prince Bain smiled. Golden Vantor was stealing the dragon's golden hoard. Bain could tell by the way Vantor's men had been peering about, as if they were expecting the other princes to show up and catch them at it.
Other than Bain himself, this was highly unlikely, since Bain had managed to send most of the remaining princes off into the mountains some miles west of here with a few carefully dropped words. As for Vantor, it obviously didn't occur to him to worry. The man expected fortune to favor him as a matter of course. Bain sat back to wait. He was very well acquainted with good fortune.
 
The baby dragon still glowed, but it hadn't burned anything for quite a while. “It's been living on rabbits,” Cam said.
Meg stepped forward to see the small bones. “And bats.”
“But this beast isn't our biggest problem. Our biggest problem is Vantor's guard.”
The dragon came over to lick Meg's leg. “Stop that!” she said.
“I told you they like princesses,” Cam had to say. Meg chose to ignore him as the dragon snortled off again.
“Maybe there's another way out,” Meg said.
Cam started to shake his head, then stopped. “A dragon's a clever beast,” he said. “Not you,” he told the baby dragon as it crashed into his legs and veered away, shaking its head. “But a full-grown female wouldn't have a nursery without a bolt-hole. The problem is finding it. We don't have a torch.”
“We've got a dragon,” Meg said. “It glows.”
Cam looked dubiously at the creature. “That's true.”
Meg headed toward the arched doorway. “Bring that cloak.”
“What for?”
“In case we need to cover the dragon with it.”
Cam didn't point out that one breath from the dragon would turn the ancient velvet to cinders. He simply grabbed the thing.
Meg set about coaxing the dragon out of the chamber. “And some treasure—from the far wall, where they won't notice,” she said.
“What for?” Cam asked again.
“For when it's homesick!” Meg stroked the dragon's
nose. “I'll take some, too,” she said, her expression suddenly ominous. “For proof.” Meg and Cam quickly filled their pockets with jewels and coins.
The dragon had wandered off once more. “Come on, sweetie,” Meg told it. The dragon snuffled after her. Cam followed them, the cloak over his arm.
Out in the passageway, Meg and Cam retraced their steps to the nearest fork and began sending the baby dragon down various passages, hoping its fondness for rabbits would lead them to another exit.
The plan didn't work. But something else happened. Horace heard the noise and came back into the cave, running toward the treasure chamber. He gave an angry yell. Then Horace started trying the passageways himself.
Meg snatched the cloak from Cam and crouched to put it over the dragon, trying to hide its light. “Can't you stop glowing?” she asked it.
To Meg's astonishment, the dragon gave her a reproachful black-and-gold look and dimmed considerably. “It understands me!” she told Cam.
“Never mind that. This is our chance!”
“What?”
“Horace went into the next tunnel over. The long, twisty one.”
“Let's go, dragon!” Meg said. She hurried back up the tunnel after Cam, with the dragon trundling along beside her.
But just as they reached the main passage, they heard
a burst of footsteps and crashed right into Horace, whose lantern went flying. Horace grabbed at them, astonished. Cam had fallen down, and he squawked as Horace stepped on him. “Who are you?” Horace demanded harshly.
Cam crawled out from under. Horace caught Meg by the shoulder. She tried to twist away, but his grip was too strong. If they only had … Meg thought of the dragon.
Fire!
she willed him frantically, hoping for the best. The dragon, who was glowing again, belched. Flame splashed across Horace's back and shoulders. He let go of Meg, yelling in pain.
Meg slapped the sparks that had caught her own hair as she turned to run.
Come on!
Meg thought fiercely, and the dragon came after her, with Cam right behind.
 
Down the mountainside, Prince Vantor's horse strained and danced. After waiting for him all afternoon, the stallion was eager to race down the hill. “Can't you go any faster?” the prince snarled at his men.
“The treasure is heavy,” a scar-faced guardsman pointed out. “Unless you want to ride on ahead?”
“Don't be a fool,” Vantor snapped. His temper cooled quickly, though. Ten men, each pair carrying a chest filled with treasure—he could buy a small kingdom with that much, and a large one with the entire trove. The long bones the eleventh man dragged would win him half of this very kingdom, a half easily doubled. Vantor
smiled, spurring his horse. For a heedless moment or two, the prince gave the animal his head. But he reined in his mount abruptly when he came to a barrier across the path. Rubble and sticks, felled saplings—there were too many owls calling in the twilight.
“To arms!” Vantor shouted, spinning back up the trail. His men quickly dropped the chests to draw their swords, but the road was suddenly full of bandits, more than a dozen of them, and one of Vantor's men was already down with an arrow in his shoulder.
“No!”
Vantor howled, striking out with his sword. He fought like a dragon himself, guarding his hoard, but all too soon his men were surrounded, their weapons scattered, one of them dead and two more injured. Five bandits rushed the prince. When it was over, Vantor stood weaponless and glaring.
One of the bandits laughed, and Vantor knew, despite her hood and the dark scarf covering her mouth and nose. “A woman?” Vantor said, outraged. “What are you after?”
“We'll take those chests you've got,” she called merrily. “Thank you
ever
so much for slaying the dragon.”
The bandits tied Vantor and his men up hand and foot. They packed the treasure on their horses—and Vantor's. Then they left, but not before the bandit leader had slipped a single gold coin into Vantor's pocket. “A souvenir,” she said. “Maybe we'll send someone to look for you in the morning.” With that she pulled out a
knife. Vantor's eyes darkened, but she merely reached to cut off a lock of his shining hair. “A fair trade, don't you think?” she asked. Vantor could only grit his teeth as the bandits disappeared down the slope with his beautiful gold.
 
Farther up the mountain, Bain watched with interest as a boy and a girl raced out of the cave, a baby dragon at their heels. Now they lunged for cover. “There
was
a dragon!” he said. “Or half a dragon.” Bain thought of catching up with them and taking the dragon, but he had more important matters to attend to. “Later,” he said amiably.
Bain slipped into the cave. With his charcoal cloak and fog-colored britches, Prince Bain resembled the rocky walls just inside the cave. He hid in a deep alcove and readied his cloak. A moment later Vantor's man thundered toward the mouth of the cave, looking rather singed. Prince Bain stepped out behind the man. In one swift move Bain wrapped the cloak about his head and arms. Horace struggled. “Do you want me to hit you with a rock?” the prince asked, pulling back on Horace's elbows.

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