EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (204 page)

She dumped the meager handful of gold onto the ground in the center of the stable and crouched to carefully arrange it.

Halfax looked over the decrepit structure. It was completely bare; not even a scrap of rotten hay littered the floor. Whatever innate fear the looters may have had of a wizard’s tower clearly did not protect this place. He turned back to the little girl. Jade looked up, the pile of gold at her feet now neatly stacked, and smiled expectantly at Halfax. He heaved a sigh.

In a series of slow, awkward maneuvers that took the better part of five minutes, the creature managed to squeeze into the stable. He filled it to capacity, so much so that he wasn’t so much laying in it as he was wearing it. When he finally finished situating himself, he managed to twist his head to face the little girl. She was standing in the doorway, a smile lighting up her face.

“See? Perfect!”

Over the course of the next few days, Jade set about preparing the tower. With Halfax’s help, she washed her bedding, cleaned up clutter, set out pots and pans. Slowly, the abandoned place began to change. There was life in it now. It was by no means a mansion; in fact, it was little more than a pair of large rooms around the base of the tower.

One room was an all-purpose sort, playing the role of entryway, dining room, workshop, and clearly anything else the former resident had in mind. It had a fireplace at one side, a long table with two chairs, and very little else. It was the sort of room one might imagine would be assembled by a man who lived alone and preferred it that way, built simply and sparingly.

One door led to the outside, another to the stable, a third to the kitchen. A closet with no apparent knob stood on one wall, and opposite was a stone arch that led to the tower. A staircase that seemed to be perpetually on the brink of collapse spiraled up to a room that looked to have been emptied in a hurry. There was a bed, another table, and a ring of dusty, vacant shelves covering every wall. Boxes, chests, and cabinets were everywhere, and all completely bare. It almost would have looked ransacked, save for the fact that looters were never so gentle.

At the moment, the little girl stood in the kitchen. Her eyes took in a simple sight, just a stove with food cooking atop it. She marveled as though it were a celestial event. There was a roof over her head again, food in the cupboard, a bed to sleep in. She’d had all of that when she was with the Drudders, but here there was something else.

Jade walked into the fresh spring air and peered into the wintery forest that surrounded her. Halfax was among the trees, eyes ever vigilant. He turned to her briefly, and she smiled. Here she had something she’d lacked with the Drudders. Here she had someone who cared about her. That made this place something she hadn’t had since the fire took her family. That made this place her home.

Jade had taken to sleeping in the tower. It was the only place that had a bed and she had no way to move it. It was a nice enough place to sleep, though. Three windows, the only parts of the wall not covered with empty shelves, let in plenty of light and fresh air. Thanks to the perpetual spring weather, she seldom needed more than a single blanket. There was only one real problem. A lifetime of waking in a room filled with family--be it her own sisters or her foster brothers--made nights without the sounds of others feel horribly empty. Sleep came slowly, and when it did come, all too often it brought terrible things. Things she wished with all of her heart she could forget.

Her eyes shot open from just such a dream, the images still stinging her mind. Try as she might, she could not shake them away, and she dare not try to sleep again with them in her head. If she did, she might return to the same terrible, terrible dream. Finally she pulled herself from bed, grabbed the blanket, and trudged to the stairs.

“Hal?” came Jade’s voice meekly.

The dragon’s eyes slid open, locked onto her. As far as Jade could tell, Halfax never slept at all. The faintest noise drew his instant and dedicated attention. Now his eyes fell upon the little girl, standing in the doorway of his cramped quarters and dragging her blanket.

“Tell me what is wrong,” he commanded. When there was even the slightest hint of trouble, the beast did not ask questions, he demanded information.

“I had a bad dream,” she whimpered.

“Oh. Good,” he said, eyes closing once more.

“It’s not good!” she objected, hurt.

“It is good, because dreams cannot hurt you. Go to sleep.”

“Can I sleep in here with you?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

“Why?”

“It would make me feel better.”

“But why? There is nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t real.”

“You know . . . you know how there are some things you don’t understand about me . . . because I don’t understand them about me?”

“Yes.”

“This is one of those things.”

“There isn’t any room here,” he objected.

Jade quietly climbed into the stable, crawling onto Halfax and nestling herself between his folded claws and the curve of his neck. The dragon held perfectly still. He wanted to object, to send her away. This wasn’t the role he was meant to play. But . . . the very moment she rested her head upon him, he could feel the fear in her drop away. He knew fear. He could smell it, hear it in the beat of a heart. Predators were sensitive to it, trained to detect it, to seek it out. She’d been terrified, but now the anxiety was nearly gone.

For a time, it seemed that she would sleep, but before long she began to stir. She tossed and turned, fidgeting under her blanket.

“I can’t sleep,” she mumbled.

“Try.”

“I am, but I can’t. Tell me a story,” she said.

“I don’t know any stories.”

“You must know stories. What did your mother tell you when you couldn’t sleep?”

“I never had trouble sleeping.”

“Well, you must know some stories. You’re a dragon. You’re old. And knights fight you and things,” She yawned.

Halfax heaved a long sigh that drifted into a faint, frustrated growl.

“Whoa . . .” Jade said, her voice thumping with the rumbling sound. “Your whole body shakes when you do that. Why are you doing that? Are you--”

“Just go to sleep,” he grumbled sharply.

After a startled silence, “Okay,” was the meek reply.

Again a few silent, still moments passed, and Halfax desperately hoped she’d drifted off. Then came a sniffle and the soft sound of gentle weeping.

“Are you crying?” he groaned.

“No,” she managed between whimpers.

“Yes you are.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t yell at you. That wasn’t yelling,” he defended.

“Yeah, it was . . . But that’s not why I’m crying.”

“Then why?”

“I miss my family,” she sobbed.

“I told you that you were better off in the city with--”

“Not them!” she shouted angrily. “My real family. When I had a bad dream, Daddy would hold me and Mommy would tell me a story and I knew everything would be fine . . . But--but everything wasn’t fine! They died . . . and . . . I’ll never see them again. Why did I live and they die?”

She buried her face in the blanket against the dragon’s neck and cried. Halfax could do nothing but listen. He simply did not know what he was supposed to do. This tiny thing, curled up against him, was so fragile. Such a fragile body, certainly, but diligence and care was all that was needed to protect a body. Her emotions were just as fragile, and he had nothing for them. It simply had never been expected of him, and he’d never imagined it would be. He felt helpless, lost. Finally, a thought crept to his mind.

“Do you want to know why you lived?”

“You know?”

With effort, Halfax managed to fetch a coin from his hoard.

“Flip this with your left hand and tell me how it lands.”

She took the coin and flipped it in the air.

“It landed face-up.”

“Flip it again, and again. As many times as you like. It always will.”

Sure enough, half a dozen tries ended with the coin facing her each time.

“How did you know it would do that?”

“Because you are lucky. Because fate has great things in store for you.”

“Lucky? But . . . but my family died. I was thrown out of my town!”

“You survived the fire, and you were thrown to the one creature dedicated to your protection. Your bloodline runs thick with luck. Sometimes impossibly bad. In your case, impossibly good. The flip of the coin is one of the signs. Heads for good luck, tails for bad.”

“How do you know?”

“My mother. She did tell me one story,” he said.

“She did?” Jade sniffed.

“Yes. But it is a very long story . . .”

“That’s okay. You can finish it tomorrow, or the day after.”

“And it happened a very long time ago.”

“Then it really happened?” she asked, fascination pushing fear and sadness aside for a moment. “Tell me!”

 
Jade sniffed and cuddled closer, wrapping the blanket tightly around her.

“Many years ago before you, or I, or even my mother was born, there was a woman. Her name was Myranda . . .”

The tale was indeed a long one. It was a story of heroes and heroism, of a great war and the trying times that followed, a story familiar to Jade and yet so new. There were familiar names, like Desmeres, but the roles were different. Names she knew as great men were sinister or unscrupulous. Creatures she thought were monsters were selfless defenders.

Halfax was not a storyteller, and it showed. He spoke of his mother, Myn, and the adventures of she and her friends. He called them “the Chosen,” and spoke of deeds great and small, but he told it as a spy might deliver a briefing. Simple, efficient accounts of events. There was little flavor or life to the words, but that made little difference to Jade. She stopped him often, urging him for details and descriptions, and painted the scenes in her mind.

When she slept, the events sprang to life, easily forcing aside the bleak dreams of old.

He continued the tale for weeks, reciting it every night until she fell asleep. When it was through, she urged him to begin again. And so he did--and as he did, the story evolved. He remembered her pleas for detail, and with each telling he included all she had asked for during the last. The tale would swell with each pass until it was dripping with detail and teeming with adventure. And even so, each time it ended, there came the same request.

“Tell me more!” Jade piped.

“There is no more to tell,” Halfax grumbled.

“Sure there is. You said that your mother was Myn, the red dragon from the story, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what happened to her after?”

Halfax sighed.

 
“She found a mate.”

“Your dad?”

“Yes.”

“What was he like?”

“He was a green dragon.”

“Was he brave and smart like Myn?”

“He was strong. And loyal.”

“Did you have any brothers and sisters?”

“Yes.”

“What were their names? What happened to them?”

“Like me, they were given a line of Chosen to protect. Windsor was my brother, and he watched over the Lumineblade line, the line of Desmeres. Thorn was another brother, and he watched over the Chosen named Ether. Roka was my sister, she watched over the Chosen named Ivy. I was the youngest, and I watched over Myranda’s line. Your line.”