Dragons over england, p.3
Dragons Over England, page 3
I turned and started to walk away from him.
He jumped to his feet. The movement was incredibly swift. Benedict had never moved that fast, and I'd never seen him so angry.
"Do you think you are the only one who has suffered since the rains?" he asked. His voice took on a harsh, ugly edge. "You aren't as I remember you, either. The Marka I know is gentle, placid, and tranquil. She would never be in the forest alone, armed with dwarvish weapons. She would never have done what you did the night before I left. She would have waited for me to come to her."
So that was what was bothering him. Of all the Neanderthal ideas. Now I knew I was in the Dark Ages. But it might explain why he disappeared, somewhat.
"Well, I beg your pardon." My voice dripped with sarcasm. "I didn't realize your delicate sensibilities were offended because I initiated sex. Honestly, you're being positively Medieval."
He looked puzzled for a moment, then reached up and began toying with his hair. That was something Benedict did when he was thinking. Then he said haltingly, "It has been difficult for me. I am sorry I left. I should have stayed. What can I do now?"
I stared at him. He was right. It had been hard for both of us, not just me. Maybe when he left it wasn't malicious, just weak and stupid. A perfectly human reaction. Or should I say elfish.
"Please," he said. "We have both been confused. The best we can hope for is to start again. I am willing. Are you?"
Was I willing to try again? I wasn't sure — so much had changed and I didn't know what I felt or who I was anymore.
We stood there, opposite each other, motionless, for a long time.
Finally, I broke the silence.
"I'm willing. A new start, then."
He stepped forward, his arms outstretched. I rushed into his embrace. I wanted to try and put some of my old life back together. My feelings toward Benedict were so confused: anger, relief, love. I wasn't certain what I was feeling. As we embraced, the image of Uthorion flashed in my mind.
That's when the dwarves showed up.
Lady Ardinay and I are in a green meadow. I am dressed in my finest armor, my family crest tattooed into the smooth metal. She takes my hand and leads me toward her castle.
"We have missed you, Noble," she says.
My heart pounds. Her beauty is more exquisite than I remembered. Her touch is sweet fire on my skin. I pull her to me.
"My Lady," I say.
She puts her fingers to my lips.
"We have work to do," she says. "Come to Oxford and all will be put to right."
She kisses me softly. A silent promise. A holy vow.
"Unhand the lady, or I'll run you through."
***
The voice belonged to Diver.
"I said, let go of her." His face was flushed red and angry furrows creased his brow.
At the edge of our camp stood the four dwarves. They each had a weapon aimed at Benedict. Diver looked particularly nasty holding the pistol I'd traded him.
"Diver," I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "This is Benedict. My husband."
His face looked as though he'd just bit into putrid meat. You would've thought I told him his own sister had married an elf.
"Martha," he said. "Why didn't you tell us your husband was . one of those?"
I could feel Benedict tensing up. Just what I needed — a sudden display of male macho. Or was it elf/dwarf macho? At any rate, I knew I had to cool things off, quick.
"Well, he hasn't always been like this," I said. "This just happened when the rains came. Before that he looked like me, but with a bad New Jersey accent. I mean, he wasn't always blue."
Diver looked unconvinced.
"Do you think I would bring an elf here if I didn't know him? I know how you feel about elves. I swear, he can be trusted. Now will you please put down those weapons? You're making me nervous."
Diver stood there with his feet planted and his face set in a hard frown.
"As much as I want to trust you, I have no use for elves. He can stay, but one false move and we kill him."
"Very well," I said. From the tone of his voice, I knew there would be no discussion. I hoped they would see that he was my husband and, as such, owed his loyalty to me.
I glanced at Benedict. He was looking at the dwarves as if they were something bad he had just stepped in. Then he looked at me and smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I think you might explain this."
Benedict and I were walking alone in the woods. Things hadn't calmed down at all back at the camp. I thought a walk would help ease the situation. Instead, Benedict was grilling me as if I were a common thief.
"There's nothing to explain," I said. "They're my friends. I met them after you left for parts unknown. I had to leave the farm. After you left, the situation with the villagers took a turn for the worse."
"But dwarves? Really, Marka, you know how they are."
"No, as a matter of fact I don't. All I know is they've been good friends. Besides, I was having these dreams while I was at the farm and they've stopped now."
"Dreams?"
"Yes. Anyway, the dwarves were heading for Oxford to help Ardinay and I met up with them and decided to go along."
"Tell me about your dreams," Benedict said.
I hesitated. What I hadn't mentioned was that the dreams had started up again. They weren't as distinct as before, but I could still feel their influence. It frightened me, like I was losing myself.
"Just some stupid dreams," I said. "Really, they didn't mean anything."
"We set great store by dreamers."
"Is that the royal 'we'?" I tried to make the retort sound flip, but the whole conversation was getting to me. The more I thought about the dreams the more they held me.
"Look, could we just talk about something — anything — else?" I asked.
Benedict stopped and looked at me intently. He reached a hand out and held my arm.
"We could stop talking altogether," he said, pulling me closer. His skin smelled like a faint memory. His lips were a warm shock. I sank into the moment, releasing my mind from dark thoughts of Ardinay, Uthorion, and Noble.
I'm in the field again. It's raining. There's no sound except for the rain. A figure staggers toward me. I'm afraid. I want to run, but my feet won't obey.
Everything is moving in slow motion.
Then, Uthorion is in front of me. His hair is plastered to his head. The rain washes fresh spurts of blood from a cut on his face.
"Martha," he says. "Help me."
I start to pull away, but his grasp is strong. Panic is circling around in my stomach. I can't breathe.
"You're not real," I say. "Leave me alone."
"Martha, please, you're my only hope." The rain washes more blood off him. I can smell its hot, copper scent.
"Go away."
He pulls me closer. His hand slips up to my breast. Passion replaces fear. We sink toward the sodden ground, but he pulls away.
"Soon," he says. "You know what you have to do."
He leaves me there kneeling in the wet earth, hungry for him. Wanting.
Benedict woke me.
"You were having a dream," he said.
I pulled away from him.
"We should be heading back to camp," I said. "It's getting dark. I imagine they're wondering where we are."
"Why do you care?" he asked. "It isn't as though humans and dwarves have been all that friendly."
I shrugged my shoulders. I was feeling strange and off-center, as though I were still stuck in the dream.
Benedict slipped his arms around my waist.
"We can leave them. Why do we have to stay? We could go to Oxford on our own."
His voice was low and hypnotic. It would have been so easy just to do as he said.
"No, we at least need to stay together until Oxford. I wouldn't feel right abandoning them like that."
I could tell he didn't like my answer by the way he stiffened against my back. I pulled away.
"I mean, they were really nice to me when you left," I said. I hated the pleading tone I heard in my voice. And the sudden weakness I felt, like I was losing control of myself.
"Yes, I understand," he said. "But after all, they are dwarves."
There was something about the way he said "dwarves." Bigots had a special way of talking about the people they hated, and that's the way Benedict sounded when he said "dwarves." It broke the tenuous peace between us.
"I didn't like the way you said that." My voice was tense.
"Said what?" His voice rose with innocence.
"Don't play naive verbal semantics with me, Benedict. The way you said 'dwarves.' It sounded really rotten. It just dripped hostility."
"That wasn't my intention," he said. "I will confess I have no love of dwarves, but ... "
"Let's just drop it, okay? I'm not leaving them and that's that. If you want to leave when we get to Oxford, that's fine."
I looked at him and he pulled his mouth a funny way, like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself.
"Let's go," I said turning to walk back toward camp.
***
The dwarves were sitting around the fire when we got back to camp. Wart was skinning a rabbit. Diver smoked his pipe, lost in thought. Ferris and Brown Billy were taking turns stirring a stew that bubbled away over the hot coals. There was a nip in the air that chilled me, reminding me that autumn was approaching. When Benedict and I came to England it had been the middle of summer; time had slipped away so quickly, I hadn't even noticed the change in the season until now. I walked over to the fire, welcoming the chance to warm myself. Benedict seemed indifferent to the cold.
The dwarves stood as we approached.
"Hello," I said.
They just nodded.
"I know this, uh, dwarf-elf thing is an awkward situation," I said. "So we've decided that once we get to Oxford, we'll split up."
"If that is what you desire," said Wart.
"I think it would be for the best." I couldn't look Wart in the eye when I said it because he would know I was lying.
Wart held his hands up as if to say, 'What can I do?' then turned his attention back to the rabbit. I looked up and saw Benedict poking through his pack. He was angry. I could tell from his gestures.
"Someone went through my pack," he said. "One of you filthy dwarves was trying to rob me."
Diver started to rise, but Wart restrained him. Brown Billy and Ferris glanced at each other, then at me.
"No one here is interested in your pitiful belongings," said Diver. "If you want to accuse people of deceit, best look to yourself."
Benedict's face was pulled into a mask of rage.
"Dwarves have always been an ugly scar on the face of Aysle. It's a pity Ardinay didn't get rid of you when she had the chance!"
"The Lady of the Houses would never harm the dwarves, and well you know why," said Diver.
"Old legends, little man. Only fools believe them."
Benedict smiled then, a thin curving of his lips which pulled his face into a feral pose. His eyes were black and hollow. I shuddered. He was a stranger to me, yet I felt compelled by him.
"Thieving scum," Benedict snarled. He pulled his sword.
"Do you think to provoke me?" asked Wart. "You know that is the coward's way, not the action of a True Son of Aysle."
Benedict held his sword at his side.
"Are you implying that I am not a True Son of Aysle — midget?"
I could tell from the expression on the dwarves' faces that this was a horrible insult.
"You know the legends as well as I. The creators made the dwarves, but there is no mention of elves. No, your kind are not of Aysle and never will be. It is no wonder you have aligned yourselves with that viper Uthorion."
"What lies you dwarves tell! It is no wonder the gods left after creating you!"
Everything was frozen for a moment after Benedict said that. Then the dwarves rushed him. Their short knives looked so small I thought for moment they wouldn't have any effect.
It was all over so quickly.
Benedict was bloody, his skin pale. I rushed to his side, kneeling as I touched his neck to find a pulse. There was none.
"Oh my god," I wailed. "What have you done?"
Then a veil seemed to settle over my mind and the world was tinged in black and red.
I cradled Benedict's head in my arms, but it was heavy and kept slipping down out of my grasp.
"We had to," Wart said. "He was helping Uthorion."
"Liars!" I shouted. My voice sounded strange. Everything seemed to be taking place three feet away from me, like I was watching all this happen to someone else.
"Listen to us," Diver pleaded. He sounded like a small child.
"Why should I?" I was on my feet now. I didn't remember standing.
"Because we're your friends. We were sent to look after you. To help you. But you've been, well, a little strange. In fact we were going to tell you about your . husband and his association with Uthorion when he showed up. Uthorion has been trying to use you to get to Ardinay. His spy was your husband."
"Bastards," I said. "Liars." My sword was in my hand. I didn't remember drawing it. I wanted to stop the pain in my heart, in my soul.
I was surprised at how quickly it was over. Again.
One swing and Wart's head hit the earth with a soft thunk. Brown Billy and Ferris tried to run, but I was on them in a flash. They were harder to kill. I stabbed at their backs, but made little headway. Eventually I ran them down. They cried out for mercy, but the rage was in me now, demanding and consuming. Mercy was an emotion I wasn't going to indulge.
Sweat trickled down my face, burning my eyes, as I ran back toward camp. I'd expected Diver to run, but he was still there.
"It was stupid of you to stay," I said.
"I'm your friend," Diver said. "I couldn't leave you now."
"You just saved me the trouble of hunting you down."
"Listen, you're being used," he said. His voice was rushed as though he knew he only had a moment to speak. "Your husband was an agent of Uthorion. I don't know why, but you're important. Uthorion has been trying to overthrow Ardinay for some time now."
"Wart already said this," I replied, "but I don't believe it. I'm not significant to anyone anymore. You've seen to that."
I took a deep breath. The adrenalin was fading. I began to feel weak and trembly.
"Martha," he said. "Haven't you noticed how you've changed?"
"Of course," I snapped. "That's obvious. Everything has changed. I'm tired of talking about this." I raised my sword.
"I am sorry we have to part this way," said Diver. His voice was sad.
Parries, ripostes, leaps, and bounds, thrusts, jabs, as though he knew this was for the last time. I had never seen him so graceful. But I knew I would win. After ten minutes, he was tired. I was barely breathing hard. Twenty minutes and it was easy to finish him.
I wiped my blade on the grass. My heart was beating a mile a minute. Unhooking my scabbard, I collapsed on the ground. I knew I had to bury Benedict, but I didn't have the strength to start.
I rested. I'm not sure for how long. The hammering in my chest subsided, but it was replaced by a dull ache, as though someone had hit me, hard, and left a bruise. I felt like crying, but I couldn't. There wasn't a tear left inside me. I was dried up and hollow as an old husk.
I stood up and walked over to where Wart lay. Retrieving his severed head, I placed it at the top of his neck. I folded his arms over his chest and put his legs together. Then I got the rest of the dwarves' bodies and laid them next to each other in a neat line.
"Four little dwarves in a row. Ho, ho, ho," I sang. I began to hum a little ditty to myself. Humming had always cheered them up.
"Now stay there. Don't run away," I said.
I turned back to Benedict's body. His arms were splayed at bizarre angles. His legs looked as though he were about to run. Gently, I straightened his limbs. His clothes were twisted about. I knew that would bother him. He had always been neat about his appearance, even after he turned into an elf. So I carefully tidied up his garments.
My hand brushed against something in his vest pocket. At first I thought it was an amulet, but the shape was wrong. I pulled it out. It was a carefully folded piece of parchment.
Curiosity killed the cat .
"Satisfaction brought him back," I said out loud.
I opened the parchment and read Uthorion's words to Benedict.
The paper fluttered from my hand. I couldn't catch my breath. Something was squeezing all the air out of my lungs. I put my head between my knees until the feeling passed. I wasn't going to let this overcome me. I wouldn't allow it.
I pulled myself together and went on. The sun had long since set when I finished their cairns. That night there were no more dreams.
It took another two days, but I reached Oxford.
It was astonishingly easy to get into Ardinay's castle. She was as beautiful as I remembered. Or at least as Noble remembered. I wasn't sure whose memories were mine anymore.
"My lady," I said as I knelt before her. She peered at me as I rose.
She search my eyes for a moment.
"So it is you," she said. She reached up and removed her crown from her brown. Relief swept her face, as if a heavy burden had been laid aside. "I've been waiting for you."
"And I have been searching for you."
"Have you come here to kill me?"
I was surprised by the question. So blunt and to the point.
"No. I discovered Uthorion's intentions and have come to tell you that the threat to your safety from me is over. But how did you know about his plans?"
"His Darkness Device helped reveal his plans to me," she said. "That is why Noble was sent on this mission — to prevent Uthorion from taking control of this Storm Knight."
"You knew?" I was stunned. "You knew that Noble would be placed in my body while I was still alive? You condemned him to this?"
Ardinay shrugged her shoulders. And I grew cold.
"Oh, my god. He didn't know that I would still be alive, did he? He thought he was coming into an empty body, but you knew. You knew I was alive and what would happen to Noble if we were to occupy this body at the same time."
