Page 1 of Hidden Dragons

Chapter One

Isabelle went where she always did when things in the village got too rough for her. She wept quietly by the falls, about a quarter mile down the river from the outer boundary of the small village of Halley’s Well.

It was so hard being all alone in the world. Since her mother had died, there was no one to dry her tears or tell her she had value beyond two hands that could work as hard as any others. Only her mother had made her feel special. And loved. And her mother had never told her she was the next best thing to worthless. Her mother had never belittled her for the way she thought or the things she could do that were just a little out of the ordinary.

Now that mama was gone, there was no protection for her against the world’s hateful ways. No buffer between her and the mean people in the village who didn’t like her for whatever reason—or worse—feared her.

There were even whispers going around that she was a witch, and in this small border village, that could prove very dangerous indeed. Isabelle didn’t quite fear for her life…yet. But the threat was there.

That’s why normally, she did her best to remember to keep her head down and not draw attention to herself. She didn’t want anyone thinking too long about her and her differences. Despite the fact that she and her mother had settled on the outskirts of the village more than ten winters ago, they were still considered outsiders. It wouldn’t do to remind everyone in the village just how different she was from them.

Luckily, while her mother had been taller than most of the men in the village and light-haired, while everyone else had dark complexions, Isabelle was only a little above average height for a woman. Her skin was three shades lighter than the villagers, but her mama had always claimed that was because they had come from the colder regions where the sun didn’t shine as much as down here, in Draconia.

Mama had never let it be known among the villagers that they were not native Draconians. That would have been going a step too far. But Isabelle was pretty sure at least some of the natives—the smarter ones—had guessed their origins were not of this land. What little Mama had told Isabelle about her ancestry was wreathed in mystery, but she knew for certain her papa had been a warrior of great renown in the snowy region she remembered only vaguely from her childhood.

Ever since papa’s death, she and her mother had been on the move. They had traveled steadily southward until they came to the border with Draconia, and crossed into the land of dragons. Mama had felt safer here. Eventually, they found Halley’s Well and settled on the outskirts of the village.

For the first few months, Mama had been nervous and watching almost constantly for the arrival of strangers in the village. But they had never come, and in time, Mama had relaxed her vigilance somewhat. They had lived here in relative peace for a long time before illness struck like a dagger, killing her mother and half the village in a fortnight.

There was nothing Isabelle could do but carry on. She had buried her beloved mother and lived a half-life filled with grief and sorrow for a long time. This lonely river bank had become her favorite place to cry, which she did a lot at first.

Nowadays, the weeping was more under control, but as she had recovered from her shock at the loss of her mother, so had the village slowly recovered from the great loss it had also suffered. The people were back to their usual suspicion and distrust now, and Isabelle’s life was getting harder to live every day.

She often contemplated leaving. She could go on the road as her mother had. But Mama was buried here and where could Isabelle go, really? She had no notion of what lay any farther than the heartiest villager could ride in a day. After that, the world was almost a complete mystery to her.

Oh, she had heard the usual stories of Castleton and the Lairs that were spaced all through the country. She had even seen a dragon or two fly over from time to time as they patrolled the border. But all those stories seemed like fairytales to a girl who hadn’t known anything but small village life and traveling through nearly deserted country. The idea of a city—where many, many people lived together in great stone houses and even castles—was hard to imagine.

Life was just so unfair. If Mama were here, she would have known what to do. Mama was always so decisive and full of good advice. She also gave great hugs, and she was the one person in the entire world that Isabelle knew loved her, with all her faults and foibles. Mama loved her just the way she was. Nobody else had ever cared for her—with the exception of Papa, perhaps, though he had died so long ago, it was hard to remember him at all.

“What makes you weep so, mistress?” A gentle, deep voice shocked Isabelle out of her misery.

Sniffling and wiping her eyes with sharp movements, she spun to find a man watching her. Not just a man. A knight, if the dragon standing behind him was anything to go by.

Sweet Mother of All! There was a dragon standing not ten yards from her and she hadn’t heard a whisper of his approach.

Isabelle bowed her head in respect. “I’m sorry, Sir. I will leave you to refresh yourself.” For what other reason would a dragon and knight come to ground but to take a break from their journey and perhaps drink from the river?

She made to move past him, but the knight reached out and took her hand, making her pause. She looked up at him and found only kindness in his eyes. Beautiful blue eyes so very unlike the muddy brown of the villagers’ condemning, dark gazes.

“Please stay, milady. We were about to enjoy our evening meal before we continue on night patrol. It’s always easier to eat while there is still daylight to see by.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than Sir Growls-a-lot over there.”

The dragon snorted and little tendrils of smoke wafted up from his nostrils as if he was amused. Isabelle stared at the dragon. He was amazing in every way. His scales sparkled in a lovely shade of dark greenish mixed with bronze that shimmered as he moved.

But dragons usually patrolled in pairs—or so the stories said. Isabelle looked around, wondering if another dragon lurked in the shadows on the other side of the small clearing.

“Surely you can converse with your partner?” she asked uncertainly, not sure if she should stay, but tempted beyond all reason to do whatever the handsome knight asked of her.

The knight laughed at her statement and let go of her hand. “Bear? That tree over there talks more than Sir Bernard the Quiet.” Even the dragon chuckled again at this statement. “Please, milady, spare me another silent meal with my grumpy fighting partner. We have fruit bread and even some sweets to share, right Growly?” He looked back at the dragon, who bounced his head up and down as if he were answering his knight’s question.

Isabelle was enchanted. She had never been so close to a dragon—or a knight, for that matter. She probably shouldn’t, but she decided to stay.

“Why do you call him that?” Isabelle asked, blurting out the question before she could stop herself.

“Because he can’t pronounce my real name,”came an amused, dry, rumbly voice in her mind.

It felt warm to hear it. Comforting in a way she hadn’t felt since Mama had died. Only her mother had been able to speak mind-to-mind with Isabelle in all her life, and Mama’s voice was light and musical, very unlike the earthy rumble of the dragon.

She looked into the dragon’s eyes, using the skill she hadn’t practiced since her mother’s death.

---