dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon Page 6

  “Let me pay for the hire of horses, at least.” Alan dug into a purse at his side and pulled out a few coins. “Here.”

  For a moment, Lleland hesitated, before holding out his hand and accepting the offering. His own funds were meager, and Alan was, after all, a member of the family. “Thank you,” he said.

  “I’ll walk Anabel over in the morning,” Alan said.

  Lleland nodded. “Thank you.”

  By late afternoon, everyone had eaten their fill and the house was a riot of noise and laughter as children ran in and out through the door, and around the adults’ legs. Oranges and nuts were handed out, and the children grabbed their treats eagerly then scampered off to enjoy them outside. With a sigh, Anabel sat down in a chair in the parlor. She was wan, and Lleland noticed her hands shaking slightly.

  “Alan will bring you to the university tomorrow morning,” he said. “Have you packed a few things to take with you?”

  “Packed?” Anabel looked confused.

  “I’ll help her,” Edith said. “Why don’t you go and finish your arrangements.”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mother.” He smiled at Edith, nodded at Alan and left the house. His first port of call was the home of Master Rutherford to discover the name and direction of the country inn. Rutherford had married into money, and despite his modest college master’s income he lived in a large house at the edge of the city. The door was opened by a footman, who stared at Lleland dispassionately before turning to fetch his master. Laughter and music rang from the hall, and a few minutes passed before Rutherford appeared. It did not take long for Lleland to apprise him of his plans, and within a few moments Lleland was in possession of the information he sought.

  His next stop was the stables, where he arranged the hire of two horses: a docile pony for Anabel and a bay mare for himself. When he heard the price for the hire, he was glad he had set aside his pride and accepted Alan’s offer, since it was money he could ill afford to spend. With the arrangements made, there was nothing more to do but pack a few belongings; these included a book, carefully bound in oilcloth, his daybook and a writing kit: a small wooden box with space for ink, quills, nibs and a pen knife. He would take his bow, of course, as well as a sword, since no sensible person traveled the roads unarmed.

  The blue skies of Christmas Day had vanished by the following morning, and a thick blanket of cloud hung over the city. It was drizzling steadily, and when Anabel arrived shortly after eight, wearing a thick, woolen cloak, her bonnet was already sodden with rain. Alan carried her small pack, and he tied it to the pony before helping Anabel into the saddle. He handed Lleland a small package wrapped in oilcloth. “Edith packed some food for your journey,” he said. “Travel safely, and I trust the country air will help relieve Anabel’s fears.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be back within the se’nnight.”

  Despite the dull, dreary weather, people were already teeming in the streets after their holiday. Lleland led Anabel through the crowds of merchants and hawkers entering the city with their wares, until they finally made it through the huge gates and beyond the city walls. Mud splashed up from the road, covering the hem of Anabel’s cloak. It was late morning when they reached the crossroads which would take them south.

  “We’ve traveled more than half the distance,” Lleland told Anabel. Her cheeks were red with cold, but she smiled cheerfully.

  “The city seems so far away,” she said.

  The path became steeper, and the mist grew thicker, until it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead, and Lleland gave a sigh of relief when he saw the whitewashed walls of the inn suddenly appear ahead of them. It was two storeys tall, with blackened beams criss-crossing the white walls, and a black door with a brass knob. A sign, hanging over the door, squeaked on its hinges, the faded name barely visible: DUCK AND BULL. Lleland drew his horse to a halt and slid off the saddle, then turned to help Anabel alight.

  “Go inside,” he said. “I’ll stable the horses.”

  The stables were at the back of the inn, and while Lleland was leading the horses across the uneven cobbles, a hostler stepped forward to take the reins. Lleland watched for a moment as the boy led the horses into the stables, then turned back to the building. He rubbed his cold hands in an effort to warm them as he pushed open the door with his shoulder, setting a bell jangling. A quick glance around revealed a small furnished hall, with a larger one beyond. A fire blazed in the larger hall, and Lleland could see Anabel standing before it. She had shed her wet cloak, and was holding her hands out to the fire.

  “Good day, Master.” Lleland turned around to see a short, portly man hurrying towards him, his balding pate shining in the light of the candle he held. “Are you the lady’s son? She said you’d be coming in a few minutes.”

  Lleland nodded. “Master Seaton. We’re in need of two rooms for a few nights. What do you have available?”

  “You’re in luck, Master,” the man said. “Not many travel the roads this time of year, and you have your choice of rooms. The one in the corner overlooks the gardens, with a view of the hills beyond, which I’m sure your parent would enjoy. The other offers a panoramic vista of the ranges.”

  “I’ll take them.”

  “Very good, Master. My wife will lead the way. And when you come downstairs, we’ll have some nice broth warmed up for you.” The man glanced over his shoulder. “Mary,” he shouted. A tall woman walked into the room a few moments later, a frown on her face.

  “What you shouting for?” she said, but then she caught sight of Lleland. “We have guests?” she said. The man beamed.

  “Show them to the hill rooms, my dear,” he said.

  Anabel had joined Lleland as he spoke to the innkeeper, and together they followed Mary up the stairs. The first room was Lleland’s, and he dropped his small satchel of belongings on the floor before following Mary and Anabel to the second room. Like his own chamber, it was plain and simply furnished, with a narrow bed and small bedstand. A table held a ewer and basin, and there was a chair in the corner, placed near the window. As to the view, however, Lleland had to take the innkeeper’s word that the windows overlooked the hills and gardens – all he could see beyond the glass was mist. But the room was clean, and there were quilts aplenty on the bed. An empty grate was built into the wall, and Mary waved towards it.

  “We don’t light the fires when there’s no guests, but I’ll send a maid to get it going.”

  “Thank you,” Anabel said. She walked over to the window and glanced out, then turned to Lleland with a smile. “I think this is just what I need!”

  Lleland left his mother to her ablutions as he returned to his room. It was cold, and he did not linger. The fire downstairs was calling him. He returned to the hall and glanced around. Long tables with benches beneath were arrayed in the large space, and Lleland guessed that it probably filled up at night with people from the nearby villages. He looked up as Mary walked into the room with two large bowls.

  “This should warm you up,” she said, placing them on the table. The bowls were filled with steaming broth, and Lleland’s stomach growled as he waited for Anabel, who joined him a few minutes later. The soup was hot and hearty, and when he was done, Lleland sighed with satisfaction.

  As Lleland had predicted, as soon as it grew dark outside the inn began to fill with farmers and laborers seeking a drink to warm their bellies after a day of work. The bell above the door jangled incessantly, bringing in a blast of cold air each time. The atmosphere grew thick and the innkeeper was kept busy carrying plates of food and tankards of stout, to the demands of his noisy customers. Lleland and Anabel sat in a corner, watching the goings-on until the crowd became too rowdy and he led her upstairs.

  It was raining again the next morning when Lleland rose from his bed. The fire in his room had died during the night, and the room was cold. His fingers were stiff as he reached for his daybook and writing kit, and he rubbed his hands together before opening the jou
rnal and writing his notes for the previous day. He left the page open to allow the ink to dry, and headed downstairs with a book under his arm. The hall was much warmer than his chamber, and he pulled a chair up to the blazing fire and dropped into it with a sigh of satisfaction. The tables had been wiped clean from the night before, and as Lleland opened his book, he saw a maid carrying clean tankards to a long cupboard.

  Lleland did not lift his head until Anabel came downstairs sometime later. He looked up with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well! No monsters plagued my dreams!”

  “Excellent,” Lleland said. He closed his book and glanced out the window. A heavy mist still hung over the hills. “I see the rain has stopped. Perhaps you would like to take a walk with me?”

  Anabel shivered. “I think I’d like to remain right here, where it’s warm! I’ve brought some needlework, and will sit beside the fire perfectly content as you ramble the hills in the cold.”

  Lleland smiled. “Then I’ll leave you in peace for a few hours.”

  The sky was still overcast when Lleland stepped outside a few minutes later, bow and arrows slung over his back as always. He stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings. The inn had been built at the base of a steep hill. Beyond the road were open fields, while behind the inn lay the gardens and a narrow path that led to a low peak. Skirting the building, Lleland gained the path and started walking up the hill. The going was easy at first, but as he continued, the path grew steeper and slicker with mud. After some scrambling, Lleland finally crested the summit. It was eerily quiet until the silence was broken by the lonely cry of an eagle. He watched as the bird circled, dropping lower, before it suddenly swooped into the sky with something clasped in its talons.

  He looked across the hills, wondering which direction to take. He was familiar with the area, having traveled here before in the hopes of finding a dragon’s lair. He shifted the bow on his back, glad of the familiar weight. He had not brought it to hunt, but habit would not allow him to leave it behind. He took the path to the left, where a small forest lay at the foot of the hill. It was damp in the woods and water dripped from the trees. The flash of crimson holly offered a bright respite from the sea of green, while a stream wound its way between the trees, rushing noisily over stones. Birds flitted silently between the trees as Lleland walked by. The stream finally broke into the open, and Lleland headed up a hill to the next summit. The inn could no longer be seen, hidden behind the gentle slopes.

  When Lleland returned to the inn sometime later, it was to the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. He paused a moment, smiling, then followed the voices to find Mary and Anabel chopping vegetables. She looked up at Lleland as he entered.

  “You’re supposed to be resting,” Lleland scolded as she scraped some peels into a large pail.

  “I can’t just sit around when there is work to be done,” she said. “Besides, I’m keeping Mary company. How was your walk?”

  “Wonderful. You should join me tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I should.”

  Lleland left the two ladies and returned to the hall, where he called for the innkeeper to bring him a mug of ale. He sat next to the fire as his chilled hands began to thaw. Two men entered the hall, calling for drinks, and took a seat near him.

  “Bitter cold, ain’t it?” one of them said. “Spent the day mending a broken fence. Damn bull!” The other man laughed and slapped him on the back.

  “Did you some good,” he said. He looked at Lleland. “Ain’t seen you ’ere before. From the city, are ye?”

  Lleland nodded. “That’s right. Brought my mother here for some rest. Spent the day in the hills.”

  “That right, eh? Well, ain’t much to see around these parts.”

  They chatted some more, and were soon joined by others as the evening passed away. Despite Lleland’s efforts to draw Anabel from the kitchen, she’d waved him off with a laugh. “I’m perfectly happy passing the evening in womanly conversation. Go enjoy the evening with the men. Just don’t drink too much!”

  The rings around Anabel’s eyes were starting to fade by the following morning, and her smile came easily when Lleland entered the hall. But when he reminded her of her promise to go walking, the smile quirked guiltily.

  “Oh, dear,” Anabel said. “I’d quite forgotten! I told Mary I’d go with her to the market. She’s taking the horse and cart.”

  “Then you should go, Mother.”

  “But I said I’d go with you!”

  Lleland smiled and patted her hand. “I don’t mind the solitude. Aristotle believed it’s only for gods and wild beasts, so perhaps I have a touch of wild beast about me.”

  Anabel frowned. “The only thing ‘wild’ about you is the beasts you hunt.”

  “Well then, maybe I am a god!” He laughed at Anabel’s look of consternation, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “But since I can be quelled by the frown of a mere mortal, I suppose not!” He grinned as Anabel smacked his arm. “Enjoy your trip to market, Mother,” he said.

  With his bow and arrows slung once more across his back, Lleland took the same path as the previous day, but when he reached the summit of the first hill, he turned in the other direction and headed towards the next peak. The cloud that had hung over the hills for the past few days was finally lifting, and Lleland could see the hills stretching into the distance. As he walked, he glimpsed the brook he had seen the previous day, winding between the valleys. It would lead him back to the inn if he lost his bearings.

  His stride lengthened as he hiked deeper over the knolls and through the valleys, and he could feel the prickling of sweat at the base of his neck. A fallen log lay across his path, and using it as a seat, he pulled open the small sack Mary had pressed into his hand that morning. A hunk of bread, some cheese, an apple and a jar of ale had been placed within, and Lleland thanked Mary silently before tucking in to his repast. Spread out before him was a panoramic vista of hills. In the distance, the stream sparkled as it wound along the valley floor, then disappeared into a copse of trees. He wondered in which direction Drake Manor lay. Had Lydia ever tramped through these hills? Maybe she had even stood on this very spot. He imagined her striding across the hills, her long hair flowing as her golden eyes sparkled. He allowed his mind to wander for a while, until he finally pushed his musings aside and gathered his bow.

  Lleland continued towards the next summit, which he was determined to reach before returning to the inn and its dull, smoky interior. The steep path zigzagged up the slope, and when he gained the top, he took a moment to catch his breath as the cold air filled his lungs. His gaze swept the vista as a shaft of sun broke through a parting in the clouds. Something glimmered in the distance, and he shaded his eyes as he stared at it. Golden wings stretched out wide from a huge body, while a long neck reached through the sky. A thick tail, armed with spikes, trailed out behind a massive frame, and a thin stream of flame flowed from the creature’s mouth.

  In an instant, Lleland had his bow strung and an arrow notched. As he lifted the weapon, the creature turned, its gaze landing on Lleland. He released the arrow, and immediately cursed himself for his stupidity. The monster was too far away for a shot. He watched, waiting for the creature to turn and start racing towards him as he notched another arrow and held it ready. The creature swept closer, its eyes never leaving Lleland as it soared through the sky. Its tail flicked from side to side, while massive wings stretched out like a canopy. Lleland lifted his bow. He could see the blazing yellow of the creature’s eyes, but it was still beyond his range. He waited. The creature rose higher in the air and broke its gaze, turning its head in the direction of the distant hills as it started flying away.

  Lleland lowered the bow and watched in confusion. Another dragon joined the first, its wings and body a dark, flaming red, and he lifted the bow once again, but beyond a quick glance, the dragons paid him no more attention as they flew away from him and into the distance.

  Lleland stare
d at the two retreating forms until they vanished from sight, his confusion mounting. Dragons never retreated from an attack. Perhaps they were after other game – such as women. He turned towards the inn and started to run. Mary and Anabel had traveled to the market alone. They could be in danger, and he was too far away to do anything about it. He pushed himself to move faster, tripping over rocks and logs in his haste. It took him close to an hour to reach the inn, and he rushed through the door, panting and breathless as the bells over the door clanged violently.

  “You’re back!” The innkeeper, coming from the kitchen, was laden with a tray of broth and ale, which he was taking to the hall.

  “My mother! Where is she? Is she back?”

  “Your mother? No, she and Mary haven’t returned yet.”

  “What?” Lleland grabbed the man by the arm, sending the contents of the tray flying across the floor and down the innkeeper’s tunic. “What do you mean, they haven’t returned?”

  “Hey, what’d you do that for?” The innkeeper shook off Lleland’s hand and turned to him with a glare.

  Lleland pointed at the door. “There’re dragons out there.”

  The innkeeper looked at the broth seeping between the wooden floorboards. “You’re paying for that.”

  “I saw them! The dragons! The women could be in danger!”

  “Dragons, eh?” The man took a towel from around his waist and started wiping his arms.

  “I know what I saw,” Lleland replied impatiently.

  “There are dragons hereabouts all the time! That’s no reason to make me spill the broth.” He headed back towards the kitchen as Lleland followed.

  “What do you mean? You’ve seen dragons before? And you’re not worried?”

  The man shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “They’ve been around since I was a child. I’m alive, aren’t I?” He disappeared through the door as Lleland felt the frustration rising again. He could not leave Anabel at the mercy of the monsters. But he had not even taken a step when he heard a clatter in the yard. He opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a small cart, drawn by a single horse, coming to a halt. Anabel sat beside Mary on the narrow seat, and she waved when she saw Lleland at the door.