Page 4 of Dragon Lord
She shrugged her narrow shoulders.“What I believe matters not when the whole village listens to the traveling priest.”
Draknart raised an eyebrow.“What happened to the old village priest?”
“Died of cholera.”
The news pleased him to no end.“Full of shit, died of the shits.Seems fitting.”
Einin glared.Then she gave a soft sigh.“The village has lost too much.Darkness is strangling people’s hearts.They need hope.The traveling priest is right about that.”
“So because men are weak willed, I should die?”
Her slim shoulders sagged.She looked away.
He disliked seeing her bright spirit flagging.He watched her for a moment, then another and another, puzzled that one of her kind could captivate him so much.His wily dragon mind twisted and turned.
He nudged her with his snout.“What if I was wounded?”
Her gaze snapped to his, hope blooming in her amber eyes.She was just as arresting with her face softened as she’d been when fiercely charging into battle.
Draknart handed her knife back, his blood on the blade, then raked through the dry leaves that covered the ground.He tossed aside a couple of old bones, and rummaged until he found the talon he’d torn out when he’d enlarged the cave a century ago.
“You tell them you fought the dragon and injured him.Let them celebrate.”
Happy people worked harder.They took risks and tried new ways, which more often than not led to success.In no time, the village would thrive again, and they would leave him alone for another couple of decades.Although, if the old gods saw fit to favor Draknart, his firm preference was for the next plague to take the whole village.
Einin of Downwood reached for the talon he held out for her.
“You would allow me to leave?”Her voice wavered with disbelief.
Her slim fingers brushed against the tip of Draknart’s extended wing, sending warmth skittering over his leathery skin.
A raven called outside.
The bird’s sharp cry brought Draknart back to sanity.
He could not let Einin go.Sooner or later, she would tell someone the truth, then her people would think the dragon had grown old and feeble.Or worse, soft and fond of people.
Next he knew, they’d be asking him to help with bringing in the harvest and raising barns.The villagers would be up at the cave with one request or another, not leaving Draknart a moment of peace.He shuddered at the thought.
He was dreaded.He was the ancient dragon, the great devil in the hills.He consumed his enemies.He did not return a sacrifice.
And yet…
He looked the wee maiden in the eyes.“In exchange for the talon, you must swear to return to me, of your own will, in a fortnight.Are you, Einin of Downwood, willing to pay the dragon’s price?”
Chapter2
Half a dozen women surrounded the stone lip of the village well, chattering as they drew water in turns.A raven circled high above them.
“You seen the weddin’ cakes?”Esbeth, the miller’s daughter asked the other two new wives next to her, heads bent together.“A full dozen.’Nough to feed the whole village.”
“You seen the dowry?”Dorin replied.“Two goose-down pillows, a wool blanket, a cast iron pot,anda skillet, six tin plates.Six!”She rolled her eyes.“And who are they expectin’ to dinner?The queen?”
Einin stood next to them, but they didn’t include her in the conversation.If they looked at her at all, they shot her wary glances.Having returned from the dragon a fortnight before—with a talon!—set her apart.
Virgins went to the dragon to die as sacrifice.They did not return, not one, not ever before.Einin stuck out of order, like a protruding nail from a sitting bench.People’s gazes and thoughts snagged on her every time she passed by.’Twas as if the dragon had tainted her somehow.
As the matron in front of her finished with the well, picked up her buckets, and hurried away, Einin stepped up to the stone lip.She did not intend to go back to the great beast.In time, people would forget about her unusual adventure, and life would return to the way it had been.
