I was halfway down the path to the town when I ran into the lord’s son on his fine chestnut stallion. He was making good time for all that he was fully rigged out in armour and bristling with boar-hunting spears and a very long sword. I say that I ran into him because I had to hurry forward and get right in front of his horse in order to catch his attention. It must have been the narrow eye slits in the bucket-shaped helmet he wore.
“What are you doing roaming about these hills, girl?” He removed the helmet and glared down at me. “Don’t you know that there’s a fearsome dragon rampaging about and stealing away maidens?”
I curtsied neatly, as my mother had taught me. “Pardon me, young lord,” I said politely. “But there has been some mistake. I am Creelisel Carlbrun.”
He looked distracted, staring past me towards the hills where Theoradus’s cave lay. “What are you babbling on about?”
“I am Creelisel Carlbrun,” I repeated, louder. “Creel? The girl who was taken by the dragon?” I prompted when he still failed to recognise me.
“What?” A flash of disappointment crossed his face, along with one of relief. “You have fought your way free?” Then he drew himself up and began to speechify: “Do not fear that the noisome beast shall try to recapture you, fair maid! I shall defeat it once and for all!”
“Please don’t!” I raised both hands in alarm when he made as if to ride on by. I was a little irritated that he appeared more eager to fight the dragon now that he knew its supposed prey had got free on her own.
“What are you saying, girl? That I am craven?” He glared at me, his face flushed.
“Of course not, young lord,” I assured him hastily. “I merely wanted to save you the trouble of travelling all the way to the dragon’s cave, only to find it dead.”
“What?” He lowered his spear, dismayed.
“The dragon is dead, young lord,” I told him in a firm voice. “It was very, very old, and the effort of carrying me off quite undid it. By the time we arrived back at its cave, it was reeling with exhaustion. It collapsed and did not rise. It is quite dead, and carrion birds are already gathering.” I hoped that the rather thickheaded lordling would fail to note that there was not a bird in the sky.
“Well,” the young lord said, taken aback. “Well.” He squinted down at me and adjusted one of his spears. “I would deliver you safely into the bosom of your family once more,” he intoned, “but as my horse is heavily laden with the accoutrements of war …” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows to see if I caught his meaning.
I did.
“I shouldn’t think of overburdening your fine steed, young lord,” I agreed, feeling much more cheerful now. It had been easier than I’d thought to keep my part of the bargain. “If you would do me one favour?”
“Anything for a fair maiden!” He thumped his steelclad chest with one gauntleted fist. He, too, was looking quite chipper. And why not? He wouldn’t have to fight a dragon or marry a plain, low-born girl with freckles.
“Please inform my family that I am well, and have decided to go to the King’s Seat to find work,” I said, speaking carefully to make sure that he understood me.
“I shall be pleased to do so,” he said.
I made another curtsy.
He wheeled his horse around, riding off without a second look at me. I waited until the dust had died down and then continued on the path until it forked. To the right it led back to Carlieff Town. To the left it joined the main road and wound its way south through any number of villages and towns until it ended where all roads in our land ended: the King’s Seat, the greatest city in all of Feravel.
Surely in the King’s Seat there would be a place for a freckled girl who wore blue slippers that had been given to her by a dragon.
I turned to the left and began to walk, my bundle securely tied to my back and my arms swinging free. I whistled as I went, and broke into a little song as I stepped on to the King’s Road. This had been quite an exciting day for a farm lass. I had faced a dragon, bargained with him, and walked away free. I had deterred the young lord who had set out on his mighty steed to save me. I had a fine new pair of shoes and was on my way to the King’s Seat to find work. It was the stuff of fairy tales.
Of course, in fairy tales, the young heroine did not get too hot and feel sweat running down the back of her neck and into her bodice. Nor did she get hungry, and wonder what her family was eating for their midday repast. I did have some bread and cheese in my bundle, so I stopped to eat a little. As I sorted out the small packet of food, a knotted skein of finespun scarlet yarn tumbled out and I barely managed to catch it before it touched the dusty road.
As I ate a small portion of the bread and cheese and drank a few warm sips from my leather water bottle, I contemplated the red threads. Most of my bundle was yarn or embroidery floss that I had spun myself, along with a packet of needles and my belt loom. I had a long, boring walk ahead of me, very little food and water, and no money. I would need something to trade for food and lodging when I reached the next town.
I repacked my food and water and tied my bundle back on, keeping out the red yarn, a skein of blue, and the belt loom. I threaded the ends of the yarn through the loom, tied them to my belt, and began to walk again.
It was called a belt loom because it was only wide enough to weave a belt or sash and because you tied it to your belt to create tension. I had made so many of these woven sashes (every woman and girl in Carlieff Town had at least a dozen for worship-days and feast-days, myself and my impoverished cousins included) that I could probably make one in my sleep. Or while I walked.
And walk I did, my eyes on the lengthening sash in front of me, and every so often, on the toes of my blue slippers, which peeped out from my skirts as I strode. The sun was hot, especially for spring, but the road was well maintained and my new slippers very comfortable.
All the same, by the time the sun had started to sink into the western hills, I was exhausted. I lifted my eyes from the sash, which had grown long enough that I had to tuck several loops of it back through my belt to keep it from dragging on the ground, and began to search ahead for some lodging.
By the time I found a farm that would take me in, I was ready to drop. The piece of dried venison and crust of brown bread they gave me tasted like a feast, and the pile of hay that I slept in was as soft as new-spun wool. In the morning, I didn’t even mind when the farmer roused me at dawn and told me to be off. That is, until I started to walk again. My legs were sore, my mouth was dry, and I kept finding bits of hay in my hair and clothing. The only bit of comfort I had was that my new slippers hadn’t raised any blisters – in fact, my feet didn’t hurt at all – and they had yet to show any wear.
“No wonder Theoradus didn’t want to part with them,” I said aloud as I began another sash. “They really are the work of a master!”
Whistling through dry lips, I walked on.
For three weeks I had been walking, endlessly walking, and I had managed to weave four sashes so far. I traded the sashes where I could, and when I had none to trade I gathered eggs or darned socks or mucked out stalls. If I was lucky, I was given stale bread and dry cheese and the occasional boiled egg and sent off to the hayloft to sleep. In the morning I was roused at dawn, given a rusk and a drink of water, and sent on my way.
While a carter or two did take pity on me and give me a ride every few days, it seemed that most of them, like the householders, were wary of a young lass travelling by herself. They believed my story of being an orphan; I had no doubt of that. But they also suspected that I was a runaway apprentice or a maidservant who had stolen her mistress’s necklace.
Two days’ walk from the King’s Seat I ran into real trouble. Infinitely worse trouble than having to walk all day or sleep in a draughty hayloft while pigs snored loudly on the barn floor beneath me. The King’s Road curved west here, actually heading away from the King’s Seat, so that it skirted the edges of the Rath Forest before it doubled back to reach the gates of the city. Very few people braved the more direct route through the forest, which was rumoured to be full of wolves, imps who guided travellers to their doom just for fun, and even dragons. It was said that tinkers and bandits lived in the fringes as well, but the King’s Road was well trafficked, and I had not concerned myself with them until that day.
A group of young men, hardly older than I, came out of the trees as I walked along the edge of the forest. There were eight of them, and they were filthy, with straggly beards, which I took to be a personal choice rather than an indication of desperation. They wore a motley assortment of clothes that were in dire need of laundering, but nonetheless seemed to be of good quality, which made me swallow hard. The easiest explanation that came to my mind was that they had taken these clothes from a wide variety of travellers – some of them women, I realised, as I got a closer look at the brocade vest sported by one lanky bandit.
“Good evening, gentle maiden,” a tall youth said, stepping forward. He would have been handsome if he had been more careful about washing. And had his teeth not been stained and worn down from the pipe he clenched in the corner of his mouth even as he leered at me.
“Good evening,” I replied, giving them a faint nod. I continued to walk along, working hard not to alter my pace. I was sure that, like dogs, they could sense my fear, so I did my best to show no outward signs of it.
“Won’t you stop a while with us? It is growing dark, and a pretty young maiden should not be travelling this dangerous road alone.” The leader moved to keep pace with me, stepping over the low curb of the King’s Road and joining me on the smooth pavement. The others stayed on the grassy verge, but trailed only a pace or two behind.
The bitter truth was that he was right. It was growing dark, and while my prettiness was debatable, an unescorted maiden should not be anywhere near this road alone. My legs shook, but I kept walking. I thought about inventing a large and loving family waiting for me at our cottage just around the bend of the road, but feared that my voice would tremble if I opened my mouth again. Besides, they knew the region far better than I, and would see through my lie in an instant if there was no cottage around the bend. Truth be known, I had already begun to worry about the fact that I had seen neither fellow traveller nor human habitation for some hours. I was in trouble, and I knew it as well as the vagabond youths dogging my steps did.
My family had never been very devout, but my mother had taught us how to pray to the Triune Gods and when to beseech them individually for favours. I wanted to pray now, but took a moment to think first. Should I address my plea to the mighty, stern-faced Regunin, ruler of the heavens, and beg him to smite my harassers? Or should I pray to his gentle brother, thrice-dead Caxon, lord of animals and plants, and ask that a bear or wolf come out of the forest and eat the bandits? Jylla, their merry, golden-haired sister, was the patron of women and I normally prayed to her. But her nature was on the lusty, pleasure-seeking side, and I was not sure that she would see my situation as perilous.
“O Gods,” I prayed silently, deciding to throw the matter open to all three and hope for the best. “Please help me. I am young and foolish, but innocent, and have done no harm to man nor beast on this journey. Please deliver me from these bandits. Please.”
I sped up just slightly, trying to seem casual about it, and forced a tiny smile to my lips. The leader was saucily continuing in praise of my beauty, and jesting that I had blinded him to all other girls. I did not make eye contact, but thought that my tight smile might at least somewhat mollify him.
“Please, please,” I begged in my head. “Please let someone come along and save me. Please let there be a camp of friendly tinkers just through those trees … a shepherd on his way to market with a flock coming ’round the bend … a farmhouse just over that rise. Please, Regunin, Caxon, Jylla, anyone.”
“Come now, pretty maiden, don’t walk so fast,” the chief bandit said in a cajoling voice. “It’s getting cold out. You should join us at our fire.”
“No, I thank you,” I said, and began to walk even faster, doing my best not to break into a trot.
“Yes, I thank you,” he sneered back, and lunged at me.
I couldn’t help it: I screamed. Then I grabbed my skirts, hiked them as high as I could, and literally ran for my life. As I ran I yelled and screamed for help, even though I knew deep down that no help would come.
It did not take them long to catch me. One of the youths trailing behind leaped forward and tackled me, wrapping thick arms around my legs and bearing me to the ground. The leader stepped forward, almost leisurely, and removed my small pack from my back, tossing it aside. He clucked his tongue at me as I screamed and struggled, clawing at my attackers.
“That’s not at all friendly,” he chided.
“You mangy dogs!” I spat back. “Let me go!” I was crying out of anger and fear, and continued to writhe and scratch. “Someone help me!”
The leader opened his mouth, displaying the brown stumps of his teeth, and started to speak. Probably to mock my pleas and tell me that there was no one to help me. But whatever he meant to say was lost in a shout as a huge flat object fell out of the sky and struck the bandit’s head before shattering into a million pieces on the road.
A shard of something bright blue bounced up from the ground and then ricocheted off my forehead with a small prick, coming to rest right before me. It was a piece of thick blue glass, with a small segment of lead attached to one side.
There were more brightly coloured pieces all around, strewn like flowers over the body of the fallen bandit. There was also a heavy wooden frame and more dark grey pieces of lead. It took me a moment to recognise the remains of what must have been an enormous stained-glass window.
The other bandits were looking from their leader up to the sky, trying fearfully to reason how a window had crashed down on him from nowhere. They had let go of me, and I staggered to my feet and stumbled through the broken glass, grabbing my bundle as I went.
“Stop!” One of the more clearheaded youths seized my wrists. “What’s happening? Are you a witch?”
“Let me go!” I tried to twist free, but fear had given him extra strength, and I couldn’t even make him shift his grip.
A roar filled the air. The bandit released me, and I clapped my hands to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut in agony. When the noise stopped I opened my eyes a crack, then took my hands from my ears. The bandits, including the one who had accused me of witchery, were fleeing with yelps of fright down the highway, slipping on the scattered shards of glass as they went.
I began to run, myself, but in the opposite direction, my skin crawling and my arms and legs trembling more than they had when I first encountered the brown dragon of Carlieff. What in the names of the Triunity had attacked us? Was this the miracle I had prayed for? I hadn’t truly believed that Regunin would smite my attackers … but what else could it have been?
My question was answered a heartbeat later, when a large pair of golden claws swooped down into my line of vision, wrapped themselves around me like a cage, and carried me off into the air. I looked down at the King’s Road becoming narrow in the distance below me, and up at the body of the massive beast that had captured me, and fainted dead away.
I woke briefly and found myself still being carried at a great height by what could only be a dragon, and felt the blackness rising again in my mind. My last coherent thought was that I was glad my brother, Hagen, wasn’t here. He would laugh until his sides split to see me swooning like some lord’s delicate daughter.
And then I was blissfully unconscious.