“There may be more than custom on my side, Sir Gawain. I was always taught that even as my blade travels through one opponent, I must in my thought prepare the cut that will follow. Now if my edge isn’t sharp, sir, and the blade’s passage slowed even a tiny instant, snagged in bone or dawdling through the tangles of a man’s insides, I’ll surely be late for the next cut, and on such may hang victory or defeat.”
“You’re right, sir. I believe it’s old age and these long years of peace make me careless. I’ll follow your example from here, yet just now my knees sag from the climb, and I beg you allow me this small relief.”
“Of course, sir, take your comfort. Merely a thought struck me seeing you rest that way.”
Suddenly Edwin stopped singing and began to shout. He was making the same statement over and over, and Axl, turning to Beatrice beside him, asked quietly: “What is it he says, princess?”
“He talks of some bandits’ camp lies up there. He bids us all follow him to it.”
Wistan and Gawain were both staring at the boy with something like embarrassment. For another moment, Edwin continued to shout and pull, then fell silent, slumping down onto the ground, and appeared on the verge of tears. No one spoke for what seemed a long time, the wind howling between them.
“Sir Gawain,” Axl said finally. “We look now to you, sir. Let’s keep no more disguises between us. You’re the she-dragon’s protector, are you not?”
“I am, sir.” Gawain gazed at each of them in turn, Edwin included, with an air of defiance. “Her protector, and lately her only friend. The monks kept her fed for years, leaving tethered animals at this spot, as you do. But now they quarrel among themselves, and Querig senses their treachery. Yet she knows I stay loyal.”
“Then Sir Gawain,” Wistan said, “will you care to tell us if we stand near the she-dragon now?”
“She’s near, sir. You’ve done well to arrive here, even if you had good fortune stumbling on that boy for a guide.”
Edwin, who was back on his feet, began to sing once more, albeit in a low chant-like manner.
“Master Edwin here may prove of greater fortune yet,” said the warrior. “For I’ve a hunch he’s a pupil to quickly surpass his poor master and one day do great things for his kin. Perhaps even as your Arthur did for his.”
“What, sir? This boy now singing and tugging like a half-wit?”
“Sir Gawain,” Beatrice interrupted, “tell a weary old woman if you will. How is it a fine knight like you, and a nephew to the great Arthur, turns out this she-dragon’s protector?”
“Perhaps Master Wistan here’s keen to explain it, mistress.”
“On the contrary, I’m as eager as Mistress Beatrice to hear your account of it. Yet all in good time. First, we must settle one question. Will I cut loose Master Edwin to see where he runs? Or will you, Sir Gawain, lead the way to Querig’s lair?”
Sir Gawain stared emptily at the struggling boy, then sighed. “Leave him where he is,” he said heavily. “I’ll lead the way.” He straightened to his full height, pulled the sword from the ground and carefully returned it to its scabbard.
“I thank you, sir,” Wistan said. “I’m grateful we spare the boy the danger. Yet I may now guess the way without a guide. We must go to those rocks atop this next slope, must we not?”
Sir Gawain sighed again, glanced at Axl as though for help, then shook his head sadly. “Quite right, sir,” he said. “Those rocks circle a pit, and no small one. A pit as deep as a quarry, and you’ll find Querig asleep there. If you really mean to fight her, Master Wistan, you’ll have to climb down into it. Now I ask you, sir, do you really mean to do such a wild thing?”
“I’ve come this long way to do so, sir.”
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice said, “if you’ll excuse an old woman’s intrusion. You laughed just now at our goat, but this is a great battle you face. If this knight will not help you, at least allow us to take our goat up this last slope and prod it down into this pit. If you must fight a she-dragon single-handed, let it be one slowed by poison.”
“Thank you, mistress, your concern’s well received. Yet while I may take advantage of her slumber, poison’s a weapon I don’t care to employ. Besides, I lack the patience now to wait another half day or more to discover if the she-dragon will sicken from her supper.”
“Then let’s have it over with,” Sir Gawain said. “Come, sir, I’ll lead the way.” Then to Axl and Beatrice: “Wait down here, friends, and hide from the wind beside the cairn. You’ll not wait long.”
“But Sir Gawain,” Beatrice said, “my husband and I’ve stretched our strength to come this far. We’d walk with you this last slope if there’s a way to do so without danger.”
Sir Gawain once again shook his head helplessly. “Then let’s all go together, friends. I dare say no harm will befall you, and I’ll be easier myself for your presence. Come, friends, let’s go to Querig’s lair, and keep your voices low lest she stir from her sleep.”
As they ascended the next path, the wind grew less harsh, even though they felt more than ever to be touching the sky. The knight and the warrior were striding steadily before them, for all the world like two old companions taking the air together, and before long a distance had opened between them and the elderly couple.
“This is foolishness, princess,” Axl said as they walked. “What business do we have following these gentlemen? And who knows what dangers lie ahead? Let’s turn back and wait beside the boy.”
But Beatrice’s step remained determined. “I’ll have us go on,” she said. “Here, Axl, take my hand and help me keep my courage. For I’m thinking now I’m the one to fear most the mist’s clearing, not you. I stood beside those stones just now and it came to me there were dark things I did to you once, husband. Feel how this hand trembles in yours to think they may be returned to us! What will you say to me then? Will you turn away and leave me on this bleak hill? There’s a part of me would see this brave warrior fall even as he walks before us now, yet I’ll not have us hide. No, I’ll not, Axl, and aren’t you the same? Let’s see freely the path we’ve come together, whether it’s in dark or mellow sun. And if this warrior must really face the she-dragon in her own pit, let’s do what we can to keep up his spirits. It may be a shout of warning in the right place, or one to rouse him from a fierce blow will make the difference.”
Axl had let her talk on, listening with only half his mind as he walked, because he had become aware once more of something at the far edge of his memory: a stormy night, a bitter hurt, a loneliness opening before him like unfathomed waters. Could it really have been he, not Beatrice, standing alone in their chamber, unable to sleep, a small candle lit before him?
“What became of our son, princess?” he asked suddenly, and felt her hand tighten on his. “Does he really wait for us in his village? Or will we search this country for a year and still not find him?”
“It’s a thought came to me too, but I was afraid to think it aloud. But hush now, Axl, or we’ll be heard.”
Indeed Sir Gawain and Wistan had halted on the path ahead to wait for them, and appeared to be in genial conversation. As he came up to them, Axl could hear Sir Gawain saying with a small chuckle: “I’ll confess, Master Wistan, my hope’s that even now Querig’s breath will rob you of the memory of why you walk beside me. I await eagerly your asking where it is I lead you! Yet I see from both your eye and step you forget little.”
Wistan smiled. “I believe, sir, it’s this very gift to withstand strange spells won me this errand from my king. For in the fens, we’ve never known a creature quite like this Querig, yet have known others with wonderful powers, and it was noticed how little I was swayed, even as my comrades swooned and wandered in dreams. I fancy this was my king’s only reason to choose me, for almost all my comrades at home are better warriors than this one walks beside you now.”
“Impossible to believe, Master Wistan! Both report and observation tell of your extraordinary qualities.”
“You overestimate me, sir. Yesterday, needing to bring down that soldier under your gaze, I was all too aware how a man of your skill might view my small accomplishments. Sufficient to defeat a frightened guardsman, but far short of your approval, I fear.”
“What nonsense, sir! You’re a splendid fellow, and no more of it! Now, friends”—Gawain turned his gaze to include Axl and Beatrice—“it’s not so far now. Let’s be moving on while she still sleeps.”
They continued in silence. This time Axl and Beatrice did not fall behind, for a sense of solemnity seemed to descend on Gawain and Wistan, making them proceed in front at an almost ceremonial pace. In any case, the ground had become less demanding, levelling to something like a plateau. The rocks they had discussed from below now loomed before them, and Axl could see, as they came ever nearer, how they were arranged in a rough semi-circle around the top of a mound to the side of their path. He could see too how a row of smaller stones rose in a kind of stairway up the side of the mound, leading right up to the rim of what could only be a pit of significant depth. The grass all around where they had now arrived seemed to have been blackened or burnt, lending the surroundings—already without tree or shrub—an atmosphere of decay. Gawain, bringing the party to a halt near where the crude stairway began, turned to face Wistan with some deliberation.
“Will you not consider a last time, sir, leaving this dangerous plan? Why not return now to your orphan tied to his stick? There’s his voice in the wind even now.”
The warrior glanced back the way they had come, then looked again at Sir Gawain. “You know it, sir. I cannot turn back. Show me this dragon.”
The old knight nodded thoughtfully, as though Wistan had just made some casual but fascinating observation.
“Very well, friends,” he said. “Then keep your voices low, for what purpose should we wake her?”
Sir Gawain led the way up the side of the mound and on reaching the rocks signalled for them to wait. He then peered over carefully, and after a moment, beckoned to them, saying in a low voice: “Come stand along here, friends, and you’ll see her well enough.”
Axl helped his wife onto a ledge beside him, then leant over one of the rocks. The pit below was broader and shallower than he had expected—more like a drained pond than something actually dug into the ground. The greater part of it was now in pale sunlight, and seemed to consist entirely of grey rock and gravel—the blackened grass finishing abruptly at the rim—so that the only living thing visible, aside from the dragon herself, was a solitary hawthorn bush sprouting incongruously through the stone near the centre of the pit’s belly.
As for the dragon, it was hardly clear at first she was alive. Her posture—prone, head twisted to one side, limbs outspread—might easily have resulted from her corpse being hurled into the pit from a height. In fact it took a moment to ascertain this was a dragon at all: she was so emaciated she looked more some worm-like reptile accustomed to water that had mistakenly come aground and was in the process of dehydrating. Her skin, which should have appeared oiled and of a colour not unlike bronze, was instead a yellowing white, reminiscent of the underside of certain fish. The remnants of her wings were sagging folds of skin that a careless glance might have taken for dead leaves accumulated to either side of her. The head being turned against the grey pebbles, Axl could see only the one eye, which was hooded in the manner of a turtle’s, and which opened and closed lethargically according to some internal rhythm. This movement, and the faintest rise and fall along the creature’s backbone, were the only indicators that Querig was still alive.
“Can this really be her, Axl?” Beatrice said quietly. “This poor creature no more than a fleshy thread?”
“Yet look there, mistress,” Gawain’s voice said behind them. “So long as she’s breath left, she does her duty.”
“Is she sick or perhaps already poisoned?” asked Axl.
“She simply grows old, sir, as we all must do. But she still breathes, and so Merlin’s work lingers.”
“Now a little of this comes back to me,” Axl said. “I remember Merlin’s work here and dark it was too.”
“Dark, sir?” said Gawain. “Why dark? It was the only way. Even before that battle was properly won, I rode out with four good comrades to tame this same creature, in those days both mighty and angry, so Merlin could place this great spell on her breath. A dark man he may have been, but in this he did God’s will, not only Arthur’s. Without this she-dragon’s breath, would peace ever have come? Look how we live now, sir! Old foes as cousins, village by village. Master Wistan, you fall silent before this sight. I ask again. Will you not leave this poor creature to live out her life? Her breath isn’t what it was, yet holds the magic even now. Think, sir, once that breath should cease, what might be awoken across this land even after these years! Yes, we slaughtered plenty, I admit it, caring not who was strong and who weak. God may not have smiled at us, but we cleansed the land of war. Leave this place, sir, I beg you. We may pray to different gods, yet surely yours will bless this dragon as does mine.”
Wistan turned away from the pit to look at the old knight.