“Good girl,” she cooed.
The dragon shot out a thin, red tongue with a split at the end. It flicked this way and that, never quite touching Kendra, but sensing her. It shifted again and faced me. The tongue darted all around me, but it was not bravery that held my feet to that one spot. It was cowardice.
Kendra said, “Talk to her. Introduce yourself.”
“U-uh, good morning.”
The dragon backed off a step and slowly turned her head away. A low rumble emitted from her chest. She took a few steps to one side and used her nose to shove blocks of rock as large as wagons aside, and some over the edge. They rolled and shattered on their way down. She pushed others, larger ones, aside with her two front feet planted on them, and then snorted so hard most of the sand and smaller rocks were pushed like a wave rolling onto a beach pushing seashells before it. She reminded me of a dog trying to locate a hidden bone.
A line or pathway in the rubble emerged as she worked, a wavering streak that traveled from one place to another. At one point, the dragon snorted again and emitted the low rumble of anger again. The snort sounded again, and dust cleared to reveal a rusted iron chain, each link as large around as my arm. Once my eyes picked out the pattern on the floor, it was clear—and then there were others. Four in all. One hated chain for each leg.
Around the base of the dragon’s feet were the scars where iron cuffs had circled each foot. At the end of the exposed chains were open links. There were no cuffs large enough to circle a dragon’s foot. Yet, the dragon no longer wore the iron cuffs that had been attached. I looked at Kendra.
“You did that? Removed the ankle irons from her?”
She said, “To free it, I had to. Yes, I destroyed the bracelets. Then she could fly away.”
Bracelets? More like the iron bands on wagon wheels, but larger and thicker. My sister had destroyed them? Without ever coming up here? The true meaning of magical power was making itself known, and the reason my weakling sister was now called the Dragon Queen by some became easier to understand.
Kendra rubbed the scar tissue of a foot and examined the dragon for injuries as she said to me, “The bracelets were the weak point, Damon. I could have broken the chains, but then she would have to live with them still on her. But the bracelets were not solid. They had huge iron locks. I only had to destroy the locks, and the bracelets fell open.”
That’s all. From a distance of a day’s travel, she had destroyed the locks. A horsefly buzzed me and returned for another attempt at eating a piece of me. Without thinking about it, I shooed it away with a little brush of wind created by my small-magic. At the action, the dragon lurched and came on point as much as any hunting dog spotting a game bird. Its eyes searched for the source of the magic that was used. I knew they looked for me.
“Damon, will you stop before you upset her?”
“S-sure, no problem. No more magic.”
Despite the warning, using my gift for small things like that had always come to me. They were as natural as taking the next breath. Kendra moved to the other foreleg and checked it carefully. She said to me, “There must be some other reason why they kept her up here. Mages all the way across Dire, even in Crestfallen could use her essence for the power behind their lightning and thunder. Each time, they drew from her soul and caused her pain.”
“For hundreds of years,” I added, just to have something to say. My adjustment to my sister’s position of authority came painfully and slowly. She had always looked up to me, her older brother—the one who could do a little magic. Now the situation had been reversed.
“And more of them before her,” Kendra said solemnly.
“Why keep them way up here?” Besides the secure cave and a city below to provide places for the mage-keepers to live in comfort, was there something special about the location? Inside, I knew there was an answer.
The dragon moved again. When it stood so close to me, just steps away, and moved, I paid attention. One innocent swing of the stubby tail could send me over the edge of the steep mountainside, to fall a thousand steps or more to my death. She shoved more boulders aside with her nose, clearing the flat area by pushing more rubble over the side. It was not that she needed more room, but we all could use some. At least I would feel more comfortable with some. She was trying to expose the rear of what had once been the cave for some unknown reason.
To help, I pushed a few boulders over the side and received a grateful look from the animal. At least that’s the story I’d tell in taverns and inns for the rest of my life. In truth, she ignored me as I rolled some rubble to the edge, pushed more over and threw smaller ones as far as possible, for no reason but because I could. I was alive after standing so close to a dragon I saw her pulse under her thick skin. I was elated. Throwing a few rocks was the least I could do.
Kendra moved closer and watched us work but offered no help. She was studying the dragon, trying to figure things out, I guess. A stone bench stood under the layers of rock. On it were several dust-covered blankets. After the long climb up to the cave, it seemed mages who were her keepers slept here, but if they were such great mages, why didn’t they just fly or levitate themselves up and down the stairs?
A curse to me was possessing a mind that asks probing questions like that, but never resolves all the questions it brings up. It insists on asking more and tangling the original question in a net of conflicting views. It is hard for me to live like that, but it had been that way my whole life. The dragon pushed more rocks aside with her nose, shoving them over the side, and again she stood and snorted. The rear wall of what had been the cave contained a series of carved compartments in the solid rock, a few the size of small boxes, others were larger food bins, and a few large enough to hold a sleeping man.
As interesting as those were, when I caught sight of clothing crumpled in the corner of one, the obvious use of the smaller ones was to hang up the long robes mages wore. That said the others were probably for other the personal items of the mages assigned to watch the dragon and nothing nefarious.
But further along, away from the wall by several steps stood a large round stone object, as tall as my chest and big enough to climb into. Instantly, I knew that it had not been placed there. It had been carved away from the solid surrounding stone. The striations and variations in the floor matched the tub perfectly. The only possible method for the tub to exist was if the floor had been meticulously carved away until the raised tub was left standing. That required all the rock on the floor of the former cave to be carved away to a height of my chest, a massive task with a hammer and chisel, even if using magic.
My first thought was that it was a tub for bathing. But, no. The work required to construct it was too immense. No sane person would go to those efforts for a simple tub to bathe in. Another idea came to mind. What if the mages had used their powers to do the work, after all? I felt certain a series of small lightning strikes could rough-out the cave and even the tub—at least over time. The larger question remained, why? Even if magic had helped, the effort exceeded any benefit I could imagine.
The dragon moved too, and nosed the tub. She rumbled deep in her chest again as if offended. She didn’t like it. The dragon raised up on her two hind feet. She was going to destroy it by using her massive weight to come down and crush it. I leaped forward, waving my hands to stop her. Why? It seemed the right thing to do. Before destroying it, we needed to find its purpose.