David Wells - Cursed Bones

“I’ve had enough of your mouth, woman,” Alexander said, stepping closer but not too close. He spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear and with enough arrogant anger to give them pause. “I’m a courier in service to Lord Zuhl. He’s sent me to collect inventory reports from all of the apothecaries along this road. The soldiers will have need of their medicines come spring and Lord Zuhl wants updated reports on any additions made to their stores over the past month.”

The woman stepped back as if he’d slapped her, clenching her jaw and bowing her head. The crowd that had been encircling him melted away within seconds. Though her colors still flared with anger, she schooled her voice, speaking in measured and overly deferential tones. “Apologies, My Lord.”

“Where is your apothecary?”

She pointed toward a shop at the corner of the square. Alexander turned away without another word, weaving carefully through the crowd. Rather than attempt to enter the little stone building, he slipped between it and the next building over and vanished from sight before floating through the wall into the shop, nothing but disembodied awareness.

The apothecary was well stocked with such a wide variety of different herbs, plants, and concoctions that it took him several minutes of searching the shelves behind the counter before he found a jar labeled snowbell , stuffed tightly with a ball of wound-up vines, stoppered with a cork and sealed with wax. Satisfied with his reconnaissance, he returned to the cave with a flick of his mind and reappeared next to the fire.

“Hello, Alexander,” Magda said, being the first to notice his appearance. “Any luck?”

“Sort of. Lucky told me about a plant called snowbell that grows in the mountains around here. It works like deathwalker root. When I couldn’t find any nearby, I went to a town a few leagues to the east and found it on the shelves of their apothecary.”

“That sounds more promising than waiting here for my shoulder to heal over the next several weeks,” Magda said.

“The terrain is pretty rough between here and there,” Alexander said. “It would probably take a full day each way.”

“I can survive for a couple of days by myself,” Magda said. “If Abigail and Anatoly just leave me some firewood and some food.”

“You won’t be entirely alone,” Ixabrax said from behind them.

“Quite right,” Magda said with a smile. “I couldn’t hope for a more formidable guardian, and honestly, I want out of this bed more than you can imagine.”

“You might be surprised,” Alexander said.

“Sorry, I forget you’re injured as well.”

“One other thing,” Alexander said to Anatoly. “All of the men are away with the army and the women are pretty put out about it. I nearly got mobbed when I strolled through their market. I suggest you wear some of that armor,” he gestured toward the pile of armor and weapons they’d collected, “and come up with a story that involves Lord Zuhl’s official business.”

“Right,” Anatoly said. “With the size of his army, I imagine he’s got every able-bodied man on the entire island under his banner.”

“I’m sure of it,” Alexander said. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Alexander opened his eyes as he lay in his bed on Tyr. He was greeted by throbbing pain behind his eyes and Anja’s snout shoved into the doorway of his Wizard’s Den.

“Are you back?” she asked.

He nodded, closing his eyes and sitting up. He swung his legs off the bed, knowing it would hurt and welcoming the distraction of the pain in his leg over the pounding in his head.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you,” Anja said, “but I just can’t stand the idea of you leaving me. It makes my stomach hurt.”

“I know, but it’s for the best. Once this war is over, I promise I’ll visit, provided your mother permits it.”

“That’s not enough. I want to be with you. I could help you.”

“I’m sorry, Anja. I know you believe that, but you’re wrong. You would only put me in greater danger and risk your life in the bargain.”

“Put yourself in my place. If I was going off to war and you were being made to stay here, wouldn’t you want to come with me? Wouldn’t you want to protect me?”

“Of course I would. Believe it or not, I understand how you feel more than you know. My wife and sister are both in danger, and my father is leading my army against a force he can’t withstand. I want to be there with all of them, but I can’t and it hurts.”

A big tear welled up in Anja’s catlike eye and rolled down her snout onto the floor. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Anja …” he stopped when he felt Bragador approach. His precognitive awareness of her or any other dragon, save Anja, still puzzled him.

“Child, stop torturing the man,” Bragador said, stepping up next to her daughter. “Can’t you see that leaving you will hurt him as well? He’s made the right decision for both of you.”

“But I hate it,” Anja said. “I want to go with him. I can’t stand the idea of losing him.”

“I know, Child,” Bragador whispered. “You never should have had to suffer this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were never meant to bond with a human. Young dragons are supposed to bond with their mothers. You were supposed to bond with me.” Bragador’s voice was steady, stoic even, but Alexander could see the turmoil in her colors.

“I’m sorry that I love Alexander, Mother, but I can’t help it.”

“I know. You have nothing to apologize for. The fault is mine. I allowed Phane’s people to steal you away from me and it breaks my heart that you will suffer for my failure.”

“It’s not your fault, Mother. Just like it’s not Alexander’s fault. The blame rests squarely with Phane and he deserves to pay for everything he’s done.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but we are not meant to exact that price.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what Alexander is going to do, and I want to help him.”

“Anja, hear me well, Phane would kill you, or worse,” Bragador said. “Child, in single combat, he would kill me. You’re rushing into something you do not understand, something quite beyond you.”

“Then we should all go,” Anja said. “He can’t kill all of us, and when we’re done, he’ll be dead.”

“At what cost? Who among us would you sacrifice to kill this one human? He will die of age before you are old enough to bear children of your own. How many dragons would you see die to kill Phane?”

Anja frowned but didn’t respond, instead withdrawing her snout from the Wizard’s Den and taking flight.

“May I come in?” Bragador said.

“Please,” Alexander said.

Bragador sat in the chair next to his bed and sighed. “She’s stubborn and headstrong. I fear we will not be able to persuade her to stay.”

“I’m starting to get that sense as well. What can we do?”

“Perhaps if she were allowed to spend more time with you prior to your departure, it would ease the pain of your leaving.”

“It could just make things worse, too,” Alexander said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to spend more time with her, but I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt her.”

“Thank you for that, but I fear she’s going to suffer no matter what we do. I had hoped that keeping her busy during your stay would distract her enough for her feelings toward you to diminish. Clearly, that hasn’t worked, so I would give her this time with you.”

“She’s your daughter, I’ll do whatever you think best.”

Bragador nodded sadly and fell silent. Alexander left her to her thoughts, waiting patiently for her to continue. After a few moments, Bragador shook off her feelings and with a deep breath, composed herself.