The Count of the Living Death (The Chronicles of Hildigrim Blackbeard) (14 page)

“Married! She can’t be—she’s mine!” the Count gasped, leaping up.

“Blackbeard, that’s several days journey from here, not to mention the difficulty of charting a vessel on such short notice,” Ivan said. “It would take days—”

“Days? Impossible, we only have hours! Blackbeard, there has to be something you can do!” the Count raged, pacing the room, knocking into tables.

“Count, calm yourself; I’ve thought of everything,” the sorcerer said, his eyes narrowing. “This is what I need you to do: tell your servants to prepare your carriage—you’re off to Belladonna at once.”

“Belladonna? Are you mad?”

“Hardly,” he said, meeting his crazed stare. “Do it at once. It’s a ploy, of course; the carriage will go without you. The Secret Council will assume Ivan is with you and follow you there—and out of the way. Meanwhile, we’ll be speedily off to Cytheria.”

“Yes, of course; I’ll do it at once,” the Count nodded, exiting the chamber.

Blackbeard waited until his steps vanished down the hallway, swallowed up by the castle’s deep silence, before continuing.

“Ivan, I want you to go with him. But watch him closely. I fear the spell may have affected his wits.”

Lucas led Mary through the thick, fragrant forests of the island toward the hills in the east. Birds flew overhead, strange animals whistled all around them; even the trees seemed to bend in salute as they passed, curiously alive and watching. Only the plague seemed conspicuously absent. A fortunate misconception, she now realized. How quickly it would otherwise have been ruined, trees replaced with roads, towns, shops, and other places to spoil the view. It remained a fitting place for exile, a place to hide from the world and find yourself. A pity Lucas couldn’t see it.

“There, do you see it?” he said, pointing at a shape dimly visible through the trees.

“I see something…what is it?” she squinted.

“What’s left of an old tower; it marks the opening of a cave,” he said, clearing a way forward. “It gets steeper here. Take my hand.”

“I can manage,” she said, following him.

They continued through the brush, ascending step by step until they were almost above the tree-line. The tower stood out prominently now, its top curiously missing, as if removed with a single stroke. The stones seemed older than the trees or anything else on the island. Lucas knew nothing about its origins; legends said that it had been built by the island’s original inhabitants, who mysteriously left one day and never returned. A terrible flood, some surmised…others believed they simply found a better island. As they approached the tower the mouth of the cave became visible, too. Strange markings surrounded the opening, most of them obscured by vines that tangled the entrance. It felt abandoned; not even animal tracks appeared to molest it.

“This is as far as anyone goes,” Lucas said, with a grin. “You can’t get anyone on the island to so much as peep in. I figure it’s the safest place to be in caseb of a search party.”

“Why? What’s inside?”

“Oh, nothing—old legends. Probably something was once here, a wild boar or something,” he shrugged. “The locals claim a dragon lives here…you know, the type that breathes fire, hoards treasure, and comes out twice a year for prey.”

“A dragon?” she repeated. “But surely…those can’t still exist, can they?”

“

“Only in nursery tales. You know the peasant’s imagination…anything to avoid doing work.”

“Perhaps,” she muttered. “But I’ve seen things…things that would make a dragon quite reasonable by comparison. Are you sure—”

“A dragon-
fly
, perhaps,” he said, with a disdainful gesture. “That’s what separates us from
them
, my lady; the ability to use our heads. Of course, if you would rather return to the castle…”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said.

It was quite dark inside, as if even the light thought twice about intruding. Only a thick odor emerged to greet them. A deep, smoky scent…not altogether unpleasant, but strangely unfamiliar. Gradually, their eyes adjusted to reveal a large central chamber. Yet it all seemed artificial somehow, as if a discerning eye had shaped it. An overwhelming sense of habitation filled the room. But where? Her eyes ran over the walls, the ceiling, in every corner and crevice. Nothing. Even Lucas seemed unnerved, no longer striding boldly forward; his face tightened, as if stubbornly avoiding the obvious.

“How odd,” he finally said.

He felt his way forward, Mary close behind him, reading the face of the rock. Again, it was too smooth to be natural; a conscious art went into the design of the room. Perhaps something had once lived here. Perhaps, like the tower, the cave was once the spoke of a great civilization, whose people—

He was gone. She froze, crying out for him. Were the walls alive? Had something reached through and…but no, he was still here, she could hear him groaning in the distance.

“Lucas!” she cried, the walls echoing, mocking her fear.

“Don’t…move,” he moaned. “I fell. The ground…stops.”

Mary knelt down, feeling the floor around her. As she slowly advanced her right hand went over. In the darkness, almost invisibly, the floor gave way to a cavernous pit. She couldn’t make out anything except Lucas’ voice, rising up to her with the smell—noticeably stronger now.

“Are you hurt? How far did you fall?”

“Not too far…but my back…landed on something. Don’t come.”

“Reach for my hand!Reach fohanlmost i she cried.

“Can’t…too far…”

Mary squinted desperately into the pit, able to make out vague shapes, but not enough to judge how far or even where he was. There had to be something nearby, at least a stray branch to lower down. She felt in the darkness but only found small rocks and assorted debris, as well as one thing that felt curiously like a skull. She dropped it in horror as her fingers slipped through the eyeholes.

“The floor—it’s moving,” Lucas said, dazed but alarmed.

Mary could see it, too. A strange glistening in the darkness, like thousands of small creatures scurrying beneath. The accompanying sound paralyzed her, a great dull drumming from all sides. Not just the floor but the entire room—it was alive and moving!

Mary froze, waiting for whatever was there to emerge. The terrible drumming slowed, replaced by a scarcely perceptible hum. It sounded distantly below, then moved closer, quickly surrounding her. It was now so close that she feared if she reached out…

“Ah, humans,” a voice said.

Something long and rough swept gently against her cheek. She shuddered but lacked the ability to move or cry out. The hum became more agitated, sounding from every direction. The echo of the dragon’s purr. What must have been its tail brushed across her and then vanished in the air; she could hear it swishing overhead.

“Why have you come here? To rob me?”

“No…no…I didn’t…” was all she could manage.

“You don’t smell like a thief. You smell like…diamonds.”

Mary tried to remain calm. Surely if it meant to eat them it would have done so. Unless like a cat it liked to toy with its food, torturing it by slow degrees…

“Yes, you smell soft, pure, refined…I could add you to my collection.”

“Please…” she whispered.

“And who is this one beneath me? Not so much like diamonds; it has no place in my collection.”

“Please don’t kill…”

“You don’t want me to kill you? Not even him?” it chuckled—or what passed for a chuckle without laughter. “You wish me to offer you my protection?”

“Yes, please…”

“I would keep you, but not him,” it purred, either with contentment or disapproval. “I couldn’t trust him. Only you I could trust.”

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“Then I offer a choice: I will allow you to go and never return, nor tell others about me.”

“Yes, I promise,” she agreed, heart flush with hope.

“However, he remains with me, a sacrifice for your meddling. You have awakened me before my time…and that always makes me hungry.”

“Oh…I couldn’t…please…”

“Then you must remain with me to watch over him. Make sure he doesn’t steal anything. Then both of you may live, and you especially, as an ornament in my collection," it said, the voice scurrying overhead. "Choose quickly."

She made her choice. To stay there forever, or at least until Leopold washed up on the island. Though in her heart of hearts she wondered whether even Hildigrim Blackbeard could defeat a dragon. The dragon purred at her decision, moving powerfully—yet quite lightly—across the room.

“Close your eyes,” it said.

Mary did, but even through her eyelids she could see the roar of flame. A dazzling light bathed the room and when she blinked every detail danced to life. Candles (or what appeared to be candles) flickered in the corners, while rubies and jewels reflected the light into colored patterns on the walls and ceiling. Timidly, she took in the dragon's enormous clawed feet, movingly slowly up the scaled legs (encrusted with stray diamonds from its rest) to the tremendous chest, and the hypnotic, swirling neck. At the end was the head itself, which struck her as surprisingly 'human': that is, not cold and reptilian as one might expect, but with eyes full of knowledge and depth. It gave a slight ‘smile’ as their eyes connected, its head lowering closer—but still keeping its distance—to her person. The large wings brushed back like a cloak being thrown in a corner. Everything about the creature seemed dignified and aristocratic. Indeed, Mary felt quite simple by comparison.

“I trust you will be comfortable here; more so, at any rate, than you might in the castle. A foul and filthy place. Fit for rats, not a marvelous treasure such as yourself.”

“I thank you...and yes, I think I will be very comfortable here,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Are you hungry? I could hunt, find anything you wanted,” it asked, its voice trying to approximate politeness.

“Yes, very hungry; famished, even,” she agreed. “Anything you could find. But won't you be seen?”

“It's true, I don't often go out in the full light...but for you I could make an exception. However, there are ways to go unseen among your kind. I have magic far surpassing your own.”

With that the dragon spread its magnificent wings—so la rge the edges scraped both walls of the vast chamber—and let out a piercing cry. A second later the dragon vanished. Yet it was still there; she could hear and feel it brush past her, clambering down the hallway toward the exit.

“I shall return very soon. Please don't do anything foolish,” it said, the words echoing through the chamber.

She waited until the sounds of its wings vanished, then scrambled down to find Lucas. He remained frozen in place, his eyes scarcely registering her presence or anything else in the world. Mary shook, pleaded, and finally smacked him lightly to coax a response. His only response, at least initially, was “dragon...I saw a dragon.”

“Really? I didn't notice,” she muttered. “Now listen: it might be gone a few minutes or an hour, I don't know. So we have to decide. Do we make a run for it, or wait until my rescue—a rescue which is by no means certain?”

“Run for it?” he gasped. “But where...it would find us!”

“That's always a danger, but we're much smaller—we could hide in all sorts of places. Eventually, it would have to go back to sleep.”

“No, I can't...it said it would protect you—us—I can't go.”

“Can't you see we have to try?” she said. “Do you really mean to live here forever? In time it might tire of us, especially once we got sick—as we undoubtedly would in this place. Please, come with me.”

“Did you see that thing?” he said, almost crazed. “It could...in a single bite. I don't understand how it's possible...no, no, we can't go. We have to stay here!”

“Please understand, this might be our last chance. We don't know what it might do. I'll help you; just take my hand.”

Instead, Lucas collapsed into a ball and wept—loud, shrieking sobs that definitively answered her question. For a moment she thought of abandoning him to his fate. He had made his choice—she could make hers! But to leave him would mean certain death, the dragon had made that clear. With a solemn curse she struck the wall and collapsed beside him, fearing she would look back on this day a year, even twenty years later, wishing she had been strong enough.