The Dragon Whisperer Page 6

  It's my fault, the Earl thought. She's like me; she belongs up there in Open Sky and I have encouraged her. Pity that the child of my heart is not my heir, not a boy to follow my footsteps into the SDS. It would make things so simple. She could be taught far from prying eyes, one amongst many, until we learned the exact nature of her bond with dragons. Until she could take up her rightful place. None would question it. However, as the only girl, she would attract unwanted attention ... But no, I would not swap my wild, passionate daughter for a dozen sons, and she has her own destiny to fulfil when the time comes ...

  The Earl gazed out of the window across Dragonsdome. A patrol was returning, swooping down towards the dragonpads below.

  Should I keep her here at Dragonsdome – where no one will suspect her true heritage – under Tangnost's care, riding her dragons like a boy? he wondered. Or should I send her to the Queen's court, at least for now? For that is where her future will ultimately lie. But if I can now see a resemblance to her mother, others may also see it ...

  He frowned. So much was uncertain. The war against the hobgoblins had changed. The world was a far more dangerous place.

  How do I prepare her for such perilous times? Nowhere is safe – only Dragon Isle. And I cannot yet take her there. She is too young, and until she masters magic it would be too dangerous ...

  'Goose,' he began, 'you cannot take the place of my son ...'

  He paused, sensing her disappointment in the sudden stiff set of her shoulders, the defiant line of her mouth, then came to a swift decision. Why not? I was barely older when I flew my first battledragon, although I was raised for war. Perhaps this way we will discover what she is truly capable of, and then perhaps the decision will be taken out of our hands. And Two Gulps will protect her against mischief ...

  'Quenelda, I know you can fly. But as I've said, there is a great deal more to becoming an SDS pilot than flying. Let us make a bargain, Goose.'

  'Papa?' Quenelda was cautious.

  'I shall not insist you attend court for a further year.'

  She whooped with joy.

  'But there are strings attached. Firstly—'

  'Anything, Papa.' She was all smiles. Who knew what another year might bring? 'Anything.'

  'Firstly, you resume your studies with your tutors. I will expect you to obtain your first wand by next midsummer. And I expect you to excel. Anything less will not do if you ever wish to attend Dragon Isle.'

  Quenelda nodded glumly, not relishing the prospect of endless hours indoors with tutors as old and fusty as the books and scrolls they read.

  'Secondly, for your protection ...'

  Quenelda gritted her teeth. He'd already told her she was to be saddled with another useless esquire.

  Her father paused, wanting to enjoy the moment. 'I'm giving you Two Gulps and You're Gone.'

  Quenelda's jaw dropped as his words registered. She stopped breathing.

  'And thirdly—' he went on, pretending not to notice.

  'Papa!' Quenelda jumped to her feet with fierce joy and rushed to embrace him, nearly knocking his injured leg. 'He's to be mine, Papa?' she asked as the apothecary glowered at her. 'Truly? A battledragon?'

  'Yes, he is yours. Tangnost and I agree. You've nursed him through his injuries and you deserve this chance. Two Gulps can protect you better than ten score esquires and men-at-arms. But first you have to earn the right to fly him. Tangnost and I have agreed on tasks for you to undertake. Only when you have completed them to his satisfaction will you be able to fly Two Gulps.'

  'What tasks, Papa?' Quenelda was eager to begin. What if she could fly the battledragon to the royal jousts in two moons' time? Her imagination raced away with her. How magnificent they would look. How—

  'Patience, Goose!' The Earl put up a cautionary hand. 'These tasks will require great discipline. A battledragon will be unlike anything you have flown before. I know you have flown dragons some two years since, and have come out with me on Stormcracker since you were a babe, but you have never flown solo on a battledragon. It may look easy, but few fly them before earning their Mage's staff, and for good reason.

  'Battlemounts are powerful, and take great skill and strength to control. You may think that because they are highly trained anyone may fly them, but they can be lethal in the wrong hands. Under Tangnost's guidance you may begin instruction with the senior esquires, but only when he gives the word can you fly Two Gulps. And I have a final task for you.'

  Quenelda nodded eagerly,

  'Flying comes naturally to you, as does dragonhandling. You are not so tolerant of those who struggle. You provoke those esquires assigned to you into foolish, even reckless behaviour. Oh, yes' – he looked at his daughter's guilty face – 'it is time you understood that, for most, learning to fly is difficult. Even on Dragon Isle only a very few go on to fly Imperial Blacks. Many fail.'

  Quenelda frowned. What had that to do with Two Gulps and her? She would never fail!

  'There is a young boy about your age who will fly out with you as your esquire. His father, one of my best scouts, was killed by the hobgoblins two weeks ago.'

  Quenelda nodded reluctantly, unsure where this was leading.

  'I will introduce you to him shortly. You—'

  There was a loud knock and a man-at-arms opened the door. 'My lord, the Grand Master is waiting.'

  'One moment.' Getting awkwardly to his feet, the Earl turned to his daughter and kissed her lightly on the head. 'Quenelda, we'll talk further. I must attend to Guild business now. I'll send for you later.'

  He nodded to the guard. 'Show him in, please.'

  'My Lord Earl.' A tall, handsome man with long dark hair and piercing eyes strode into the room to grasp Quenelda's father by the arm and embrace him. 'Rufus' – Sir Hugo's voice was as rich and warming as his smile – 'it is good to see you home. We have all been most anxious for news.' He stood back to examine the bandages on the Earl's leg. 'You are injured!' he exclaimed with concern. 'Are the other rumours also true? You were attacked in the Howling Glen?'

  'I'll live,' the Earl said grimly. 'But it hurts like the very devil. And yes, we have much to talk about before the Guild meet.'

  The Grand Master became aware of another person in the room, realized it was Quenelda and instantly dismissed her. As she left the room, he and her father were already moving towards the sky charts and campaign maps scattered across the large oak table.

  A frequent guest at Dragonsdome even in her father's absence, the Grand Master in his bright gold-stitched robes and distinctive five-pronged hat was a familiar sight to Quenelda. He was always interested in touring the battleroosts and talking with Tangnost over a leaf-filled pipe and a mug of heather ale; discussing pedigree and lineage, arguing the merits of one breed over another. And he had always taken a keen interest in his friend's son, Darcy, encouraging the youth's interest in the Household Cavalry and in tradition and ceremony. Over the coming midwinter festival he had promised one of his prize golden unicorn stallions to Dragonsdome to celebrate the boy's ceremony of knighthood, when Darcy became a man and knight of the realm. But Sir Hugo paid very little attention to Quenelda. After all, no one even knew who the girl's mother was and she was clearly of no importance. And he did not know about her extraordinary bond with the dragons ...

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lady Quenelda's Esquire

  A great feast was already under way in the banqueting hall by the time Tangnost finally found Root huddled in a corner of the parade ground.

  'There you are, Root,' he said gently. 'I've been looking everywhere for you.' The dragonmaster took in the gnome's tear-stained face and swollen eyes. 'They've told you, then?'

  Root nodded wordlessly, afraid to say anything lest he start crying again.

  'I'm sorry, lad.' Tangnost's oak-brown eye swam with sympathy. Helping the lad to his feet, he took him in a bone-crushing embrace, pressing him against his cold chain mail and tooled leather armour. Root clung to him and wept, the familiar smell of armou
r polish and leather oil in his nostrils.

  It had all been so abrupt. The heart-thumping excitement; the people shoving and jostling for position to watch the dragons land; the cries of delight as husbands, fathers, brothers and sons dismounted into the welcoming arms of their families. The sudden dry-mouthed fear, like being punched in the gut, when he realized his father was never coming home.

  'Your pa died bravely from a poisoned hobgoblin barb while out on reconnaissance ... Hush, laddie ...' The dwarf held him until his tears ran out, then gave him a hank of wool to dry his face. 'But he and his wounded mount managed to return to warn the Earl, and the ambush failed. He was a brave man and Earl Rufus will reward him by taking care of you. You needn't fear for your future. Now,' he continued, throwing his bearskin cloak around the shivering gnome and propelling him towards the kitchens, 'the Earl wants a word with you. But let's get some hot food into you first – you must be half frozen.'

  'M-me?' Root stuttered, misery momentarily forgotten as adrenaline rushed through his veins. 'W-why? Why w-would the Earl want to see me?'

  'He'll tell you himself, lad,' Tangnost said gruffly as he sat Root down and gave him a bowl of steaming porridge and a chunk of hot bread. 'Eat, lad, go on, eat!'

  Root suddenly found he was starving, gulping the hot oats down so fast he scalded his tongue. Tangnost refilled his bowl from the great iron cauldron bubbling over the fire and found a spoonful of honey to sweeten it.

  When Root had finished and some colour had returned to his cheeks, Tangnost pulled a few bits of straw out of his hair and said: 'Now, come along, lad. The Earl's a busy man. He don't like to be kept waiting and the feasting's already started.'

  They crossed the dark parade ground and the crowded commons, then went through the tunnel that arched beneath the great inner bailey leading to the castle proper. Root had passed through the great arches flanked by the high watchtowers when he had run errands for Tangnost. He had seen the warm yellow light spilling out through the mullioned windows, and the huge oak doors that lay behind the portcullis. But he had never once set foot inside.

  Dragonsdome Mount was as magnificent as Root's imagination had painted it. At its heart lay the castle with its mighty milk-white keep. Over the centuries, successive generations had added to its splendour. Everywhere Root looked he saw cold suits of armour and dusty heraldic banners softened by the gleam of crystal and silver, carved wood and tapestries. The entrance hall was vast; intricately carved stone pillars soared up and up to a distant ceiling hidden in the shadows. It was thronged with servants, soldiers and hunting dogs.

  Open-mouthed, Root allowed Tangnost to herd him gently upstairs. Music and laughter spilled out as they passed by the great hall, then on, up and up the great spiralling stairway to where the Earl's private chambers were, high in the keep.

  At the door, two sentries uncrossed their pikes and grounded them. Tangnost's knuckles rapped loudly on the iron-studded door.

  'Enter,' a deep voice commanded.

  'Go on, lad, he's not going to eat you!' The dwarf ushered Root forward through the opening doors to a room lit with many candles.

  'My Lord Earl.' Tangnost bowed, pulling Root down beside him. Heart thumping in trepidation, the gnome stole a look at the Earl Rufus.

  He was seated on a high-backed chair beside the fire. Behind him, his daughter, Quenelda, stood looking out of the window. Her face half hidden by her long combed hair, she turned to scowl at Root. She had changed into clean clothes but, he thought, she could easily be mistaken for a boy in her dove-blue doublet, breeches and soft boots.

  Tangnost's steadying hands rested reassuringly on the pale-faced gnome's shoulders. He propelled him forward another step. Root sniffed loudly. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his jerkin, he stared at the floor nervously.

  The Earl Rufus gently explained to Root how his father had died in an engagement with the hobgoblins in the Howling Glen. Bark had discovered two hobgoblin banners beneath the mountains. Struck by a poisoned dart, he managed to reach the fortress to forewarn them of the attack. Because of his bravery the SDS had won against great odds. The Earl had pledged to take care of his son, and that meant that he, Root, was to be made an esquire and would begin his training immediately. Tangnost had made himself personally responsible for his basic training, after which Root would begin his duties as esquire to his daughter, the Lady Quenelda. Which meant she would teach him to fly dragons. If Root could master this, he would be appointed to Quenelda's own household as senior esquire, the first such appointment and a great privilege.

  He, a lowly apprentice, to be made an esquire? It was

  unheard of. The sentry at the door shifted. The apothecary dropped his ladle into the cauldron and coughed to cover his embarrassment as he fished it out, giving a hastily smothered oath when he burned his fingers.

  Only Tangnost seemed unsurprised, his mouth twitching into a smile that he wisely kept hidden beneath his moustache.

  'L-Lady Quenelda?' Root squeaked in horror, the words out before he could stop them. They were more than matched by Quenelda's look of dismay as she took in her father's words and spun round to face him.

  'Him?'

  'My Lord Earl ...' Foreseeing a tantrum, Tangnost bowed hastily, pressing the dazed Root down on one knee, then backing them both out of the door. The apothecary followed hastily, then his apprentice, who was struggling with the cauldron. The door had barely closed when Quenelda turned back to her father.

  'A gnome?' she asked incredulously. 'An apprentice?'

  Her father looked at her sharply. 'Is that a problem?'

  'I've never heard of a gnome being made an esquire.'

  'And I've never heard of a young girl who wears breeches and flies battledragons at the age of eleven years, have you?'

  'But why an apprentice? Why him, Papa? He can't even fly! He barely knows one end of a dragon from the other. He ...' She paused in the middle of listing Root's many deficiencies, suspicious that she had somehow fallen into a trap.

  Her father looked at her keenly. 'Exactly, Goose. But he's going to. He's going to get the best tutor there is. You! You are going to teach him to fly dragons. That way, if he fails, you've only yourself to blame. You don't fly beyond Dragonsdome until you've taught him, and you don't fly Two Gulps until Tangnost is confident you can control the beast. Do we have a bargain, Goose?'

  Outmanoeuvred, Quenelda glowered at him. 'Yes, Papa,' she muttered. 'We have a bargain.'

  'Good. The lad can begin his training immediately. Well' – the Earl sighed wearily, wincing as he got to his feet – 'I must go down to the banquet and then I must attend to more Guild business. You have your own training to begin with the esquires, which will keep you busy until I return.'

  Quenelda grimaced sourly as she left. This was not working out the way she had expected at all. A commoner as an esquire? Her esquire! And worse, she was responsible for training him. She didn't want to miss the winter joust – it was the most exciting festival of the year! But she needed Root if she was to leave Dragonsdome! It would be a difficult task: she had seen at first hand how hopeless he was with dragons. At this rate she would never fly Two Gulps into battle!

  She kicked a pebble bad-temperedly, barely wincing as it ricocheted off a sentry's armour to crack a window pane. 'A gnome for an esquire!' she muttered.

  Not if she could help it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Stoner Manoeuvre

  The next morning Quenelda was determined to banish all thoughts of Root from her mind. She hurried to the roosts to see her beloved Two Gulps and tell him that her father had given her permission to fly him one day.

  We are to fight as one? the Sabretooth asked, milky smoke threading eagerly upwards from his snout in anticipation.

  No. We are not going to fight. Well ...' Quenelda hesitated, sensing the dragon's wings droop with disappointment. Not unless it's strictly necessary. Only if we have no choice ...

  But someday?

  Quenelda no
dded. We will fight together. I promise it. But – she searched for a way to explain it – I must shed my juvenile skin before I will be allowed to fight.

  Two Gulps seemed satisfied. It is true. It is foolish to fight before you shed your first skin. Your scales will still be soft.

  My scales will still be soft, Quenelda agreed. Now let me tend to your injuries. Then we will exercise ...

  At that moment Tangnost appeared. 'I've finished my morning inspections,' he told her. 'I'm instructing the senior esquires this afternoon. I thought you might want to come along to watch. We're trying out a new battle manoeuvre ...'

  Quenelda's eyes lit up. 'Which one? The Stoner Manoeuvre?'

  Tangnost grinned and nodded.

  Quenelda eagerly walked over to one of the larger training areas, where a group of senior esquires were scattered around on the rough-hewn tiered seating, impatiently waiting for the Earl's dragonmaster. They were all youngest sons of noble families, learning the trade and art of warfare under the tutelage of Dragonsdome before applying to join the SDS, where they hoped to win fame and fortune.

  Quenelda climbed up to sit behind a group of them. Her arrival was greeted with thinly veiled curiosity, whispers and furtive glances. They were unaware of the fact that, since she was small, Quenelda had always had exceptional hearing and eyesight. She tilted her head.

  '... she has! She's been assisting Tangnost.'

  'I heard she's been given the battledragon!'

  'What? To fly?'

  'No! Don't be ridiculous, she's only eleven!'

  'And she's a girl to boot!'

  'You don't say,' replied one sarcastically. 'A girl. Whoever would have guessed?'

  'Show some respect – she can out-fly you any day of the week. No esquire can keep up with her. She's gone through six so far this year!'

  'That's why she's here! To choose a new esquire. To watch us! To decide for herself who she wants!'

  There were nods of agreement.

  Quenelda snorted and looked at them all with a critical eye. Any one of them would be better than a wretched apprentice who didn't know one dragon from another.