“You are good, I know that,” she told the dragon. “You don’t have to give in to hate. You don’t have to let evil men use your great power.”
“I cannot change,” the beast said. “I will fly you down to the lowlands.”
“No,” Brianna said. “I can’t leave yet. I have something to do here. I can’t say what it is, but I have to stay.”
“And I have to leave.”
“Be careful,” she told the beast.
It nuzzled her shoulder then moved swiftly past her. She followed it to the mouth of the cave, the cold air whipping her hair around her face. Then the dragon jumped high into the air, its wings flapping, and it soared away. Brianna felt a twinge of regret. She had a strong sense that she would never see the dragon again. It was an odd feeling, she thought. It wasn’t like the dragon was a pet or even a friend. It was an incredibly powerful creature that somehow she had connected with.
She walked back into the darkness of the cave. The goat was bleating, and she realized that it was afraid. She didn’t like the thought of killing the animal. Death had become part of her life, and she had never even questioned it. She was tired of death, and the more she thought about it, the stronger her desire to create life became. She missed Zollin, but she knew she still had things to learn and things to do. They were things he could not help her with. In time, she would return to Zollin, she was sure of it. But for now, she had to discover what it meant to give life.
* * *
Quinn was more tired than he could ever remember being. He had ridden north to Black Bay, then turned east and taken the Weaver’s Road toward Ebbson Keep. He rode day and night, alternating mounts, eating in the saddle, stopping only to catch a few hours’ sleep in the late watches of the night. At first he had stopped to ask if anyone remembered Mansel, since the boy was hard to miss. He was larger than most men, both in height and build. But the people who remembered seeing Mansel only remembered seeing him pass by, so Quinn pushed on.
At Fort Jellar, he skirted the army encampment. Although it was tempting to check on Mansel at Ebbson Keep, Quinn decided to keep moving. He wasn’t sure if it was a desire to find Mansel, or if he just really wanted to see Miriam again. His desire to see the healer in Felson had been growing in him since Mansel had thrown him overboard and the shock of the cold water broke the spell Gwendolyn had cast over him. He decided to push on for Felson and kept a wide berth around Ebbson Keep. He had little difficulty easing through the line of scouts in the dead of night. Once back on the Weaver’s Road, he resumed his demanding pace.
The weeks went by in a blur of constant movement. His body ached from riding so long, and his mind wandered for long periods. He was a day’s ride from Felson when the cough began. At first it was merely a tickle deep in his chest. But the tickle nagged at him, and his discomfort grew stronger. Soon, he was coughing so hard that his sides ached, and he had even caused himself to vomit at one point. When he approached the city, late that night, he smelled the stench of too many people trying to live in a small area. He rode through a shanty town, where people were camped on either side of the road, some under makeshift shelters and others exposed to the elements. He could smell the trash and the unmistakable odor of the latrines that had been hastily dug as refugees from the north flooded into the city.
He was leaning heavily on the neck of his horse as he entered the city proper. There were still a few people roaming the streets at that late hour, but none of them looked to be up to anything good. After a while, Quinn was finally met by a small squad of soldiers.
“It’s past curfew,” said the ranking soldier.
“I just got to the city,” Quinn said. “I’m looking for Miriam, the animal healer. Can you direct me to her home?”
He coughed so hard after speaking that he had to bend over double, his breath coming in wheezing gasps.
“Sounds more like you need a physician than an animal healer,” said the soldier.
“She’s a friend,” Quinn managed to say.
“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate being roused out of bed by a sick man.”
“Please,” Quinn said. “I don’t have much time.”
“All right,” said the soldier. “I’ll take you to her home, but don’t try any funny business. We’re not in the mood.”
Quinn nodded, thankful that the soldiers were going to help. He felt guilty that he had shirked his duty to Prince Wilam. When he’d finally come to his senses after being rescued at sea, he’d immediately thought to travel north to save Zollin. He should have gone south to rescue the Prince from Gwendolyn, he supposed, but no matter how strong his duty to King and country, his family would always come first.
They arrived at Miriam’s home after only a few minutes of travel through the city. Even in the dark Quinn could tell that Miriam’s home was filled with refugees. There were tents around the small corral, and pushcarts lined the front of the house. Quinn climbed out of the saddle, being careful not to fall. His arms and legs felt so heavy he had trouble moving them, but he managed to shuffle toward the house.
The soldier stood back as they approached and watched Quinn with an experienced eye. He had one hand on his sword while the other held a torch high, letting the light spill onto the small porch. Quinn knocked on the door with slow, heavy thuds. There were sounds of movement in the house, then a light came shining weakly through the front window.
“Who is it?” came Miriam’s voice. It was cautious, but clear and exactly as Quinn remembered it.
“It’s Quinn.”
There was the sound of a heavy bolt being lifted, and the door opened just a crack. Light from a candle shone through.
“Oh, Quinn,” she said, throwing the door open wide. “Come in, please. Are you okay?”
Before he could answer the soldier spoke up.
“You know this man, lady Miriam?”
“Yes, he’s a friend.”
“Fine, we’ll be moving on then,” said the soldier.
Quinn turned to say thank you, but he was racked with a fit of coughing. Miriam helped him inside and into a chair.
“You’re sick,” she said.
“No,” he managed to respond. “Just tired. I’ve had a long journey.”
“Well, you’re here now and you’re safe,” she said. I’ve got one bed left, and you’re going right into it.”
“No,” he said again. “I’m filthy. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “This is my house, and I don’t let people sleep on the floor. Now come with me.”
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “to intrude like this.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I haven’t heard from Zollin or Kelvich in weeks. I did hear that they were headed to Orrock recently. Some of the soldiers were talking about it when I was at the fort.”
“Orrock?” Quinn asked. “How recent?”
“I heard it a few days ago. There’s rumors of war, but we haven’t heard anything for certain. The legion, what was left of them, were called to Orrock. Things have been tense here for the last few weeks. A small contingent of soldiers have been working hard to curb the crime, but it’s getting worse despite their efforts. We can talk about all that tomorrow, though. You need to rest.”
“I have to catch up with Zollin,” he said.
“You said that the last time we met,” she said, smiling.
“You’ve been on my mind ever since,” he admitted.
She smiled and helped him into a bed. He noticed the covers were rumpled and thrown back hastily. There was no candle by the bed.
“This is where you were sleeping,” Quinn said.
“And now it’s where you are going to sleep.”
He wanted to protest but he was too tired. He sat heavily on the bed and before he could stop her she pulled his boots off. Then she pushed him back onto the soft mattress and he felt himself swooning. As his head hit the pillow, he could smell the fragrance of Miriam’s hair. It was intoxicating and he couldn’t help but smile as he fell asleep.