“A horse you have, Your Highness,” the young officer said. “And a weapon. But you ride north with me this evening. Your father is sending you – ”
“No!” Felix flashed. “No, he’s not!” He turned and ran from the officer into the busy yard, only just avoiding being trampled by hurrying soldiers. The officer trailed behind him, shouting, but Felix ignored him. He spotted his father on the far side of the yard, standing beside a tall horse and speaking to General Argus. He darted up to him, gasping. “Father, let me help.”
Fidel looked sternly down on his son. “You’re not yet gone, Felix?”
Felix smothered the hurt that rose inside him and tried to make his voice firm. “Let me help you, Father. I can fight; I’ve been trained.”
“You are riding north with Captain Janus,” Fidel said.
“But, Father – ”
Fidel grabbed Felix by the shoulder, his fingers pinching. “I have no time for this, son,” the king growled. “I won’t have you put in harm’s way as well. This discussion is over.”
Felix knew there could be no argument. Captain Janus approached, and the prince turned and followed him back across the yard. An escort of ten waited there with a horse for him, and Janus handed him a small sword, which he strapped to his side before mounting. Felix swung himself into the saddle and paused a moment, looking around the yard. “Monster,” he muttered, sick at heart about leaving his sister’s pet.
“The north road, men!” Captain Janus called, and the company set off at a brisk pace, leaving Dompstead behind.
20
The trees arched like pillars and their branches vaulted, loftier than a cathedral’s dome and more beautiful. Moonlight streamed through their intertwined leaves and fell far below to the forest floor, the richest carpet of silver. On this carpet, a blind knight clad in scarlet knelt before the Prince of Farthestshore, who extended a hand to touch his head in greeting.
“What word do you bring?” the Prince asked.
“It is as you feared,” the knight replied.
“Una?”
“Imprisoned by the Dragon within the walls of Oriana. I . . . Forgive me, but I could not keep her safe.”
“There was nothing you could have done against such an enemy.”
The Prince spoke the words compassionately, but the knight could sense the pain in his voice and cursed himself silently for his weakness, for how he had failed his master.
“What of her family?” Aethelbald asked.
“I did what I could for them,” Sir Eanrin replied. “I saw them safely into Dompstead. But the king breathed dragon poison and is unstable in his mind. And the prince was sent north.”
“Felix? You are sure of this?”
“I am.”
“That I do not like. I want you to return to Goldstone Hill.”
“As you wish, my Prince, but – ” Eanrin paled.
“No, I don’t intend for you to face the Dragon. Simply wait and listen and bring me word as you can. I must go to Felix before anything else. I fear most for his life at present.”
“What of Una?”
“Her life is not at stake. Not yet.” The Prince of Farthestshore closed his eyes and set his jaw. “Observe with your many senses, Sir Eanrin, but do not let yourself be seen. I will return for her as soon as I may, but I must go to Felix first. Before it is too late.”
The blind knight inclined his head, then rose and disappeared. A moment later the cathedral of the forest was empty save for a lone wood thrush, singing its plaintive song.
–––––––
Time did not exist in that darkened world. Day was no lighter than night, night no blacker than day. The Dragon’s smoke covered all in shadow, and only his flames offered light.
Una was not as one living. If she ate, she did not remember it. If she slept, she always dreamed herself awake and on waking wondered if she still dreamed.
Once she dreamed herself out on a wide and empty plain, red as blood under a black sky. Far on the horizon she saw a figure, tall and straight, striding toward her. Her heart thrilled, for she knew that form. “My love!” she cried, joyfully extending her arms.
Then her heart stopped.
Sudden terror replaced her joy, terror that grew as the figure neared. For she saw in his hand an upraised sword and knew it was intended for her.
“No!” she screamed, and woke into the nightmare of reality.
Her bedclothes were grayed with ash. She pulled them back, coughing at the smoke that lingered throughout the palace and wondering for the hundredth time why she had not suffocated long ago.
Whenever she woke, though she could not guess the hour, Una went through her toiletry rituals as though beginning a new day. But no matter how she searched, clean water was nowhere to be found, so she bathed her face in a grimy trickle still in the bottom of her washbasin.
This time, after her attempt at washing, Una sat down at the vanity, gazing sadly at her ash-smeared face, and began once more to brush her hair.
The silver glimmer of the sword flashed through her mind.