dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon (9 page)

“There must be a reason beyond my understanding.”

“Perhaps, Master Seaton, it’s time to seek the truth. To question your own beliefs and explore other possibilities.”

“The truth is that they’re monsters.”

“You’re closing your mind to the evidence before you. Evidence that suggests your conclusions are wrong.” Lleland frowned. “Everyone makes mistakes,” Zach continued, his voice low, “but only a fool persists in his error.”

“You’re calling me a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Master, but when it comes to dragons, you’re blinded to the truth.”

“I’ve seen the truth of dragons, Drake,” Lleland said, his voice hard. “I watched as my father was killed by one.”

“You saw the truth of one dragon. But one dragon does not determine the actions of all.”

“We’re talking about beasts. A creature driven by natural instinct. An instinct to hunt and kill. It was that instinct that led the black dragon to attack Civitas all those years ago. And it’s the same instinct that will lead to it happening again.”

“Seaton –”

“Lleland! There you are!” Anabel’s voice rang across the room, cutting through their conversation. Lleland turned to see her weaving her way towards them. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly through clenched teeth.

“Hello, Mother,” he said as she approached. “Have you recovered from your day’s exertions?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call them exertions! Look,” she pointed to her hair, “I bought some new combs.”

Lleland smiled tightly. “They’re lovely.” He glanced at Zach. “This is one of my students, Mother. Master Zach, may I introduce my mother, Dame Seaton.” Zach’s face was set in rigid lines, mirroring Lleland’s, but he managed a semblance of a smile.

“Good evening,” Zach said.

“Are you staying here, too?”

“No. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find my cousin.” Zach glanced at Lleland. “Master.”

Lleland nodded and watched as Zach left the hall, weaving his way through the crowds.

“He’s not very friendly,” Anabel said.

“We were expressing a difference in opinions.”

“Well I’m sure whatever it was, you were right!”

Lleland smiled. “Let’s see if we can find a quiet corner away from these crowds.” He led Anabel across the room, and saw Zach standing against the wall, the auburn-haired man beside him. Both men were watching him closely, their heads cocked to one side in a familial gesture. Zach’s golden eyes glowed strangely in the low fire-light, and Lleland was struck once again by the strength and power that seemed to exude from the young man. He turned away, suddenly uncomfortable. Zach’s stance had not been threatening, but there was something about the young Drake that both drew and repulsed him, leaving him perplexed – a most confounding feeling.

The feeling of uneasiness clung to Lleland throughout the evening, and when he climbed into bed later that night, his mind was still disturbed. When sleep finally came a strange man was waiting for him, just beyond his conscious mind. At first Lleland thought it was Zach, but as the man drew closer, Lleland could see that he did not have Zach’s tawny hair and golden eyes. Instead, his hair was as black as pitch, and his eyes gleamed with a pale silver light. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and as he drew closer, he smiled sardonically. “Ah, Lleland,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
No
, Lleland wanted to shout, but instead he smiled and nodded. “You’re mine,” the man said. “You’ll never escape me.” He beckoned Lleland forward. “Come,” he said. Lleland moved towards the man, but a crashing sound behind made him spin around, and he woke as a log fell in the fire grate. His heart was racing furiously, pounding against his chest as he fell back against the pillow. Already the dream was fading, the man in black just a shadow. There had been something about him Lleland needed to remember, but it slipped through his mind like sand. It was a long time before his heart slowed its frantic racing and he passed into a fitful doze.

Lleland woke late the next morning and stumbled down the stairs in search of a cup of ale. He was surprised to see that Anabel had already arisen, and was seated before the fire in the hall. She was staring out the window and did not notice his approach until he was almost at the chair. She turned with a start.

“Oh! You gave me a fright!” She turned back to the window, but not before Lleland noticed that the dark rings had returned.

“Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked, pulling a bench closer to sit beside her.

“We’re surrounded by dragons,” she whispered. Mary entered the room and handed Anabel a cup of mulled wine, which she took with shaking hands. “They’re everywhere,” she said. “We cannot see them, but they’re here.” She grabbed Lleland’s arm and pulled him close. “They’re after you,” she hissed.

Lleland glanced at Mary, who shrugged. “She’s been speaking like this since she awoke.”

“Get one of the maids to pack her things,” he said. “We’re leaving.” He turned back to Anabel. “I’m taking you home, Mother.”

She nodded. “Yes, home. They can’t get you so easily there.” She opened her eyes wide. “But you must be careful, son. They’ll come when you least expect it.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “Stay here next to the fire while I make things ready.”

“It’s this cold weather,” Mary said as Lleland left the hall. “The rain and mist keeps one awake and plays tricks with the mind.”

“Do you often see dragons?” he asked her, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Not as often as when I was girl. We saw them all the time then.”

“You must have lost a lot of people to the beasts.”

“You mean the dragons killed them?” She laughed. “No, they never killed anyone. I used to watch them soar through the sky, and thought how wonderful it must be to be a dragon.”

Lleland shook his head and climbed the stairs. Perhaps Mary was right: the rain and mist did affect the mind.

Chapter 10

“‘Anybody can become angry,’”
Lleland read.
“‘That is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.’”

Classes had resumed. It was a miserable, blustery Monday. The halls and classrooms were cold and dank after being closed up for a week. Lleland had spent the weekend in the field near the woods, practising his aim and twirling his staff until his muscles ached. A narrow log across a small stream, slick with rain, had provided a perfect platform to twist, swing and jump with the weapon. He had fallen into the water once, but had climbed back and resumed his exercises in sodden clothes that clung to him and impeded his mobility. Zach’s words bothered him more than he wanted to admit, and pushing his body helped him push the words from his mind. He knew that he was right, and that Zach was wrong.

Lleland paced the classroom, his long gown fluttering behind him. He turned to face his students. “How can anger be right?” He swept his hand in a gesture of enquiry and felt his fingers touch the smooth surface of his ink pot. He swung around in dismay as the jar started tumbling from the desk. The black liquid flew from the open jar as it tumbled top over end and landed on the hard floor, sending ink splashing over his clothes, his shoes, and across the floor. Shards of ink-black glass flew in every direction as the ink seeped over the stone, running into cracks and along the joints. He stared at the spreading stains for a moment before glancing up at the class, who were staring at him with expressions that ranged from horror to stifled amusement. Zach Drake was looking away, but he was definitely hiding a grin.

“Drake,” Lleland snapped in annoyance, “would you be good enough to find some water and a cloth to clean this mess.” Zach looked back at Lleland, eyes glinting with suppressed humor.

“Of course, Master,” he said, striding to the door and into the corridor.

Lleland crouched down to collect the shards of glass as the students watched, and a short while later Zach returned with a maid hauling a bucket of steaming water. Lleland waited for her to finish before he continued with his class, but his train of thought had been disrupted, and he was relieved when the clock chimed four and class was dismissed.

The ink was dry on Lleland’s breeches, and he regarded them with a sigh. He only had three pairs suitable for teaching, and he’d noticed the previous day that one of the others had a hole in the knee. He had planned to ask Anabel to mend them, but with this fresh disaster he knew that the purchase of a new pair was required. He glanced out the window. It was late afternoon, which meant there was still enough time to order a pair from the tailor before he closed for the day. Throwing a cloak around his shoulders, he hurried out the building and into the dismal, damp weather.

Within a few hours Lleland was on his way back to the university, relieved to have the ordeal of being measured, pricked and prodded behind him. The tailor had wheedled him into ordering a second pair, and Lleland was regretfully considering the sudden lightness of his purse.

Despite the wet weather, the high street was a hive of activity. The university was close to the Old Market, with its collection of cloth, leather and ironwork, and Lleland kept his hand on his purse as he walked through the closely-pressed crowds. A pie man stood on a low box, his tray of quickly cooling pies slung around his neck, while further along a hawker was standing over a fire, scooping roasted chestnuts into a sack on the ground. Small shops lined the street, and ahead of Lleland the door to the mercer’s opened. A slim figure stepped onto the street, and Lleland paused.

“Mistress Lydia,” he called out in surprise, hastening his step. Lydia turned, smiling when she saw him.

“Master Seaton! Imagine running into you!”

“I thought you weren’t returning,” Lleland said, falling into step beside her.

“It was a last-minute decision. I’m traveling with my aunt and uncle, and they wanted to come into Civitas to make a few purchases before returning home. We leave again in the morning.”

“So soon? Have you seen your brother?”

“No, I’m on my way there now. He doesn’t know I’m here, so I thought I’d surprise him with a quick visit.” Lydia frowned. “I will be able to see him, won’t I?”

“The university doesn’t encourage visitors, but I can help get you a few minutes together.”

“Then it’s a very good thing I ran into you!”

Lleland smiled. “A very good thing!” He held out his arm, and Lydia wrapped her hand around it. She was warm, despite the cold weather, and Lleland found himself drawing closer to her. She met his gaze with her golden eyes, and the breath caught in his throat. He coughed and dragged his gaze away.

“So you leave tomorrow. Do you have far to go?”

“My aunt and uncle live on the coast.”

“That’s a few days’ journey. Not as far as the Northern Mountains, though.”

“I’m used to the traveling. We Drakes always seem to be on the move.”

A woman selling muffins stepped onto the road ahead of them, and Lleland pulled out a coin from his purse. He purchased two of the treats, and handed one to Lydia. They ate as they continued walking, passing stalls selling furs and linen. They were nearly at the end of the street when Lydia paused to examine some embroidered cloth, woven with birds in flight.

“How lovely,” she said. She glanced up at the woman selling the fabric. “Does it come from the Orient?”

“It does, Mistress,” she said.

“Isn’t is beautiful?” Lydia said, turning to Lleland. His eyes weren’t on the fabric but on her.

“Quite beautiful,” he replied, and she blushed.

“How come you never married, Master Seaton?” she asked as they continued walking.

Lleland glanced at her, surprised at the directness of the question. “I haven’t met anyone I wanted to spend my life with.”

“You must be a difficult man to please!”

“Not really. I have no need for a servant. I want a wife I can respect as well as love. Someone who’ll be my equal.”

“Ah! A very difficult man, indeed!” She smiled. “Have you always lived in Civitas?”

“I have,” he replied. “But in the summer when I’m not teaching, I try and travel as much as I can.”

“Have you been to the Northern Mountains?”

“No. I’ve heard they are very beautiful, but it’s a long way.”

“They’re magnificent,” she said. “So high, the snow lingers all year round. Our home is deep in the mountains, and the vista spreads in every direction. And in the summer, the forests are filled with birds and animals, and waterfalls tumble from the peaks. It’s simply breathtaking. You must see it one day.”

“Should I take that as an invitation?” he asked teasingly.

“I’m sure Zach would be happy to welcome you as his friend,” she replied primly.

He laughed. “I’m not too sure about that. Besides, Zach may not be the one I want to visit.”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “My father would enjoy meeting you,” she said.

“And I would enjoy meeting him – the famed dragon slayer.”

Lydia’s smile faded. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that. To me, he’s just ‘Father.’”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Lleland said. He paused. “I didn’t know my father. To me, he’s just a vague memory.”

“How old were you when he died?”

“Six. As a child, I’d dream of all the things we’d do together. In my mind, he’d always have time for me. Perhaps reality would have been different.”

She touched his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He smiled. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m being morose.” Her gaze caught his, and any further words vanished as he stared at her. “Look, we’re here,” she said. “Do you have a key for the gate?”

Lleland glanced around to see that they were standing before the heavy iron gates of the university.

“We don’t need a key. There’s another entrance.” He led her to a small wooden door in the wall and pushed it open. A narrow path led towards the large arched doorway of the university building, and Lydia’s shoes rang against the stone as they walked up the path and stepped through the entrance. The entry hall was deserted, but down the passage came low murmurs from the dining hall; supper was being served. Lleland gestured towards a bench.