Champrey would never speak the runners name, they both knew he was able, swift, and devoted to Narcisse. If gold could not buy ones allies then promises to portions of land could.
Just the one then?
He claims it. It is quite extraordinary, for that means Champrey tallied on his fingers there were three.
Many more than weve seen at one time. If he had known sooner the riches that nested so close, Narcisse would have sent out half the garrison to the caves. As it was, he could still take advantage of the situation.
One remaining? That was all he needed.
We cannot allow this woman to persist with her delusions, Narcisse stated firmly. He must be careful with a situation such as this. Champrey, while his right-hand man, did not always agree with his politics. She couldharm herself.
She is quite skilled, as proof is evident, my lord.
Narcisse coached the tic tugging at the corner of his mouth to remain still. If there was another dragon, it could be his only chance for a continued supply. Small hope. But one, it seemed, he would be forced to cling to.
Oh!
All eyes looked up to the castle door. Looking frail in winter-white damask, Anne stood, her dark hair spilling down to her waist. The rain did not reach her beneath the arch of the doorway. Hands pressed to her mouth, wide eyes screamed what her voice could not manage.
Bring her inside! Narcisse ordered.
One of his knights responded, rushing up the steps, clinking mail and sword sheath punctuating his urgency.
It is dead! Anne shouted. But you cannot Oh!
Her body wilted to a faint. The knight landed the top stair. He lunged to capture her about the waist before her head hit stone. I have her, my lord!
Careful, Gerard. Watch her head. Bring her to the solar.
Regret twanged at Narcisse profoundly.
He knew Annes affinity for the dragons. She, wellshe related to them in a manner he could not fathom. Every evening at matins she said prayers for them, and then received a blessing of holy water. Without her blessing she could not sleep, and would roam beside the bedfor the chain kept her closeuntil the morning hours found her literally slumped on the cold stone floor. She pined to go to the caves. Always she spoke of the nest below her bedfor the caves wended about beneath St. Rénan. But there were no nests below. Narcisse knew not even a small dragon could permeate the narrow caves, but Anne refused to believe.
She should not have witnessed this spectacle. It was all the Tassot wenchs fault.
Bending and pressing both hands to the dragons tumescent belly, Narcisse gave orders. Drag it to the kitchen entrance. We shall feast heartily for days. Preserve the skull, the talons and the scales.
Very good, my lord. Champrey signaled to his men to man the ropes tied about the dragons legs and head. As for the slayer? Do you wish to have a word with her?
Straightening, and for the first time noticing his hair was wet for the fallen hood, Narcisse sneezed. Wretched rain. Can she be brought to me posthaste?
Yes, my lord.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rhiana ran home and quickly changed to braies and a plain woolen tunic and boots. She strapped her talon dagger at her hip and then returned to the armory to don the scaled armor.
The sky darkened early this eve, for she tasted rain in the air. She left St. Rénan through the door guarded by Rudolph while the knights inside the castle ate the evening meal and, at the same time, groped a voluptuous wench.
It took but half an hour, her strides sure and swift, to broach the top of the mountain that capped the caves. Four megaliths marked the grounds as if a kings crown. Keeping to the purlieu of the forest, she marked a spot beneath a massive twisting beech tree. Sending her companion to flight with a nod, she watched as the pisky flitted toward the cave opening. Sitting, she then propped her crossbow over her wrist, she closed her eyes to listen. For a heartbeat.
For challenge.
There, within the depths, beneath the earth and stone and centuries of vegetation fluttered the heartbeat. Heartbeats. Focusing, she picked out more than one, for each one was unique as a name or color.
Seven. That is how many heartbeats she counted. But she could not be sure, for some dragons might have burrowed deep into the labyrinth of caves below her resting place.
Mon Dieu. So many?
Did her senses play tricks with her? Was it just the one final dragon, and she interpreted it as so many additional beasts?
Again Rhiana closed her eyes. Breathing slowly, releasing each exhale on a lingering sigh, she quieted her core, which opened her to receive the sounds of life all around. Birds and squirrels, even a fox close by, were easily ignored for their rapid pulses registered as a high, agitated tone as they all sought shelter from the sprinkling rain.
Twas a low bass pulse that fixed in her veins and matched her own heartbeatthat was the dragon. One, just below, and two to her left. Many more behind, some sleeping, others moving about. They were there, below her.
The villagers will be horrified to learn this. That their nightmare was far from over? But she must not keep it secret. Knowledge was power, and she would never keep them in the dark when all must know vigilance must be increased.
But why so many? All females? And with the dwindling hoard? Was it a doom, traveling in seek of a permanent home and nesting place? They could not have it here! She would not allow it.
But what could one woman do against so many?
A fine mist pelted the long spring grass spiking up at forest edge. Nestled at the base of the beech tree, Rhiana was protected from most of the rain by the canopy of thick glossy leaves. She didnt mind getting wet. Enjoyed it actually, for the raindrops slipped over the scales on her armor and made it glisten.
It was the sound of raindrops plinking upon the leaves and ground that interfered with her concentration.
Content to wait out the weather, for she knew the dragons would not fly this night, Rhiana settled against the smooth trunk, wrapping her wool cloak about her shoulders and the armored tunic.
The pisky she had sent to reconnaissance the caves shimmered through the raindrops, its wings iridescent even in the nighttime, though the heavy droplets hampered its flight. The creatures were as common as butterflies but usually avoided human contact. Thanks to Anne, Rhiana had learned to communicate with them and win, if not their trust, at least their curiosity. Of course, a bribe was never sneered at.
Landing her shoulders, the violet pisky sat for a moment. Its tiny huffs were audible as beats inside Rhianas head. Patiently, she waited. And in thanks she pulled the small lambskin of fresh cream from her hip pouch and opened it before the pisky.
Fluttering to the edge of the lambskin the pisky drank heartily. After its repast, it flew up to Rhianas head and sat upon the crown, belly nestled into her thick tresses and arms dangling over her forehead. It began to tap upon her brow, and Rhiana counted.
Nine?
So there were two she had missed. Perhaps they slept more deeply, had chosen to hibernate. Or had they come to build a nest? Mayhap the two were males? Or they were maximas. The elder dragons infrequently took to the sky, choosing to nest upon the hoard and store up their energy. Their heartbeats became very sluggish. Rhiana had never opportunity to mark a maxima.
It was the young rampants, vigorous and voracious that flew the skies, reveling in their energy and seeking the kill in small field animals. They did not require the safety and rejuvenation of the hoard so often as the maximas.
For it was the actual hoard, piles and piles of gold and silver and pillages of fine metals that served the dragons lifeline. All replenished their vitae at least once a day by sliding slowly over the mounds of gold. The metals reacted with the sensitive belly scales, alchemizing rich vitae that permeated their scales and entered their very veins. Rhiana understood little of the actual workings of the transmutation, but it was how Amandine had explained it to her.
If kept from a hoard for overlong a dragon would eventually die. The oldest and largest of dragons needed a constant source of vitae. Though they were most powerful and could be so large as the castle keep, they needed little in sustenance beyond the hoard.
Nine.
So now she must plan how to take out nine dragons before they destroyed the entire village by slowly plucking up person by person. For, it seemed the beasts were intent on claiming humans, as opposed to livestock.
Singularly, was the only way she might defeat any of them. How to draw them out one by one? She may be able to handle two, but only with a distraction to keep one of them busy. But not a distraction as theyd had this afternoon.
With a flutter of its wings, the pisky buzzed her ear, and then spiraled upward to find a dry nesting spot amidst the glossy leaves.
To her left the heather meadow emitted a heady perfume. The rain-soaked blossoms oozed scent like a censer swinging through a church nave, Rhianas eyelids grew heavy. There was nothing more she could do this evening. The rain would keep back the dragons. They felt the rain as did the piskies; heavy upon their wings. She would dream upon it. Oftentimes she would fall asleep thinking of a trouble, and by morning, the answer became clear.
Standing and tugging down the scaled tunic, she lifted her crossbow to prop over her shoulder. The trek back to St. Rénan was one long league.
Raising a hand to wave thanks to the pisky, it was then Rhiana noticed the shadow cross before the brilliant midnight moon.
One rampant would not be kept back by the rain.
Crossbow drawn, she tracked the flight of the dragon above the sight. Finger tapping the trigger, she held. Utter calm befell her. She would not fire until it flew closer. The bolt could not travel so far; it would be a wasted shot.
She never panicked. But even so, her heartbeats fluttered like a piskys wings. Rain splatting off her nose and eyelashes made her blink, yet Rhiana held firm.
Come thee, I bid you, she murmured as the dragons shadow grew larger in her sights. Ill not tease you with a dance. Quick and painless, I promise thee.
A burst of flame escaped the dragons nostrils. Had she moved?
Planting her feet and stretching out her right arm, elbow crooked and fingers firm upon the trigger, Rhiana drew in a breath.
The dragon swooped low, skimming the field. Mayhap it did not sight her, but only blew flame to warm a chill caused by the rain?
When she could smell the vigor stirring the blood of the beast, Rhiana touched the trigger. The bolt released. The dragon banked upward sharply. Target diverted. The bolt found its place in the wing.
Blast! Quickly working to reload, Rhiana kept the dragons trajectory in peripheral view. It hovered above the treetops, as if a fly suspended in a web, and then, it dropped.
She followed the dragons landing. Mid-fall, the bolt dislodged from the pellicle fabric stretched between the wing bones. The beast landed hard upon its left rear foot, then staggered and fell to its side in the center of the heather meadow.
Scampering over the twist of beech roots, Rhiana stealthily stalked through the brush and to the meadow.
The dragon growled and hissed out fire, but it did not call out the bellowing cry that would alert others of its kind. Was it so smart it did not want to bring others into danger? Or had she hurt it that much with her misplaced bolt?
Moonlight beamed upon the meadow, alighting the heather and grasses like a wilderness stage. Its wounded wing stretched out and flapping at the air, the other wing tucked tightly to its body, the dragon walked, tripping occasionally and landing its head in the thick violet stalks. It struggled, but made its way to the edge of the meadow, opposite where Rhiana stood.
Using its preoccupation as cover, Rhiana carefully stepped across the meadow in the dragons wake. Crossbow held ready to fire, she kept behind and to the left. The beast wobbled to the right.
Anger-scent strong, the dragons energy permeated Rhianas own flesh. A hard vibration of power pressed her quickly forward, eager to claim her prize.
A vicious snap of its head took out a tenderling maple at the forest edge. The dragon insinuated itself into the trees, crushing sticks and breaking branches in its wake. It made a horrible noise but had yet to cry out.
Rhiana chuckled softly. It would never sense her presence until it was too late. She simply had to follow it, and when it finally exhausted itself, make the killing shot.
Can you come that? she whispered.
A massive jut of stone concealed the dragons retreat. Megaliths dotted the top of this mountain, making childhood play exciting when the dragons were not in residence.
Rhiana trod up to the huge boulder and pressed her shoulders to it. Slipping along the slick stone wall she gained the corner round which the dragon had passed. She did no longer hear its shuffling steps and dragging wing.
Did it wait on the other side of the stone? Through all its struggles and noise, had the beast remarked her?
Whispering a prayer to St. Agathas veil, she drew up the crossbow. Closing her eyes, she listened. But her senses were drugged with the dragons anger. She could not fully concentrate on noise. And so, it was now or never.
Swinging around the corner, Rhiana drew the crossbow on target with a pair of human eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A steel boltset between two intent eyesaimed at Rhianas nose. She followed the weapon from glinting tip, down the crossbow stock, to a finger poised upon the trigger. Rain splattered the wooden shaft of the crossbow. Moonlight sparked in the very human eyes mirroring her own deadly gaze.
It took two breaths to realize she stood, not before a dragon, but a man wielding a crossbow. Where he had come from, she did not know.
Stand down, Rhiana demanded.
The mans eyes narrowed and one dark, wet brow arched in defiance. On my honor, my lady, you do not look like a dragon.
Neither do you resemble a fire-breathing beast. Lower your weapon, if you will.
You first.
The mans mail coif was pelted to his scalp by the increasingly heavy rain. And those eyes, she wagered they were blue, though she could not determine for the darkness.
Still she held her aim.
Avoiding looking at the tip of the bolt, Rhiana summed him up. Dressed head to toe in black leathers with steel spikes studding the coat of plates and his wrists. Broad-shouldered and tall as she, he must be a knight. But she did not recognize him as any from Lord Guiscards garrison.
If you be honorable you would stand down first, she sputtered in the pouring rain. I must be on to the dragon!
It slipped down that tunnel.