The League of Dragon Riders

The Great and Angry Madam Carmen

The lazy morning sun rose slowly in the clear blue sky, stretching over the thick forest and the lone village already alive with activity. Colorful tents lined the dirt road as vendors prepared for the last week of trading for months to come. Winder was almost upon us and soon most passages up north would be impassable. 

I glance up from my book and watch as the vendors prepare their tents. The small village is always lively when the traders come by. As soon as they leave, however, the mood shifts to something more cold and bitter as winter hits. The sullen attitude doesn’t change until the sun chases away the snow in the next season. The vendors today, however, are a nice change from our usual traders. Though they came every late autumn, the excitement that came with them never seemed to waver once they arrived. 

I glance back down at my book before snapping it closed with one hand. I use the other to pull myself up while using the chimney for support. I carefully made my way toward the open window, making sure to place my feet carefully as not to alarm Madam Carmen of my morning activities. She would kill me if she knew I was reading on the roof again. She didn’t think it was very lady-like to read, let alone somewhere so dangerous.

I stretch before pulling the window closed. The small room held only a bed and a small dresser. I pull my boots before heading down the stairs and out of the attic of the inn my aunt owns. I bound down the stairs and through the dining area before hurrying outside to take care of my morning duties. 

I grab the mess bucket from outside the door and hurry toward the pigpen. I stumble slightly down the decline, sliding slightly through the mud. The pigs move slightly as I near it and I smile as I climb over the fence with the bucket in hand.

“Charles!” I jump at the sound and turn toward the horrid noise. There she stands, tall and angry, with her hands twisted in her large violet gown right outside the backdoor. I watch as she stomps through the mud; the season of rain is upon us, after all. Her so-called apprentice races down after her, trying and failing to keep the dress free of mud. I fight a smile until I realize that it was a fireable offense in Madam Carmen’s eyes. 

“Charlies!” she screams again, spin trickling down her made up face as the new handyman stumbles out of the barn with his cap falling down over his eyes. He was working in place of his father who had fallen in a few months before.

“Y-yes, ma’am?” he stutters out as she grabs his collar and yanks him toward her. His eyes widen in fear as he looks back and forth between her eyes and her angry fist.

“Do you think me an i***t?” she spits, causing Charles to wince as it hits his face.

“Of c-course not,” he stutters back.

“Tell me why the stairs are not yet fixed,” she demands as she shoves him away. He falls backward and lands on his backside in the mud. I clench my teeth as I dump the leftovers into the large half barrel. I climb over the fence with ease and drop the bucket on the other side. I walk toward the poor guy as he struggles to explain himself.

“Madam Carmen?” she turns toward me, the anger in her brown eyes is warning enough to steer most people clear. I, however, am not most people. Her apprentice stands behind her with her arms folded across her chest with a superior look in her eyes. I roll my eyes as I turn my attention to the larger woman in front of me. 

“I can fix the stairs. The horses have kept him occupied. They sounded exceptionally sassy today,” I tell her. I watch as she looks between me and Charles before a heavy sigh leaves her red lips.

“Fine. One more mess up and…” she trails off, letting the implied threat hang in the air as I help him up. I wait for her to stomp away before turning toward him.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Fine,” he mutters, “I really don’t like her.”

“No one usually does,” I tell him as I watch her struggle up the short incline. I laugh slightly before turning toward him, “don’t do it again. You can’t afford to have her fire you and I can’t afford to stick up for you all the time.”

He nods as I head back and grab the bucket off the ground. I pause for a moment before watching the woman struggle before hurrying up and bypassing her and that i***t apprentice of hers. I kick my boots off by the back steps and enter into the kitchen.

The kitchen happens to be my favorite place in the whole village. Small and useful, it holds all the necessities with pans hanging from the hooks on the roof and a pot standing over the fireplace. Fruit covers the countertop as our cook prepares to make her famous pie. 

The cook, we call her Potts and I’ve never heard her real name, hurries around the small area. I can’t remember a time we didn’t have her and neither can she. She’s as much of a part of this inn as the staircase. Flour dots her face like freckles and her long hair stands in a loose bun on top of her head. Her thick figure is one of a man’s dreams or so the rumors go though you can’t see much of her figure in the dresses she wears. 

“Hey, Potts,” I call out as I leave the kitchen and enter the dining room, which is nearly draped in darkness. Only four candles lit up the room with weak beams of light. Madam Carmen never liked to spend money on anything she deemed useless. I remember when my father used to light this place. There was hardly a shadow in sight…

Ten tables fill the wide space. Two groups sit around the tables. They stay here so often that I already knew their orders before walking over to them. At another table sits a pair of men that I have never encountered before. One man has dark tan skin. The kind you get when you stay spend too much time out in the sun unlike the traders of the South with the skin the color of chocolate. His dark hair is littered with specks of gray and his beard even more so. He wears strange leather clothing that’s a shade darker than his skin tone. It almost reminds me of bark. He holds a tankard in one hand and is leaning forward in deep conversation with the man across from him.

While the other man looked like a trader, this man looks like something I’d imagine from the horror stories my father used to tell. He wears a dark cloak with the hood pulled far over his face. The only feature I can see as I walk past them is a pale chin and matching lips. His skin looks almost translucent. I make it to the door that leads out of the dining room before I let myself glance back. A gasp leaves my lips as I stumble back as the hooded man smiles, showing me a set of razor-sharp teeth. 

My breathing grows heavy as I hurry toward the staircase I need to fix. As I move to grab the hammer from inside the closet near the door, I keep seeing that man’s teeth in my head. I grip the hammer in my hand as I hurry up the steps. I pause for a moment as I catch my breath, trying to convince myself that I’m simply going crazy. 

Did I eat today? Could hunger be the problem?

The stairs are fixable. One step has become loose and Madam Carmen doesn’t like it. I hammer the step back into its proper place before straightening up. I let my arms fall to my side and sigh as I stretch out my arms.

See, I think to myself, nothing like work to get your mind off nonsensical things.

I start down the stairs and pause when the door opens. Two men, both dressed in the brown leather like the man in the dining room, step inside the small area of the inn. I take a deep breath as my heart skips a beat I force a smile on my face as I step off the last step. They smile back as I step behind the tall counter.

“Hello,” I say, hoping the smile doesn’t seem as fake as it felt, “what can I do for you?” 

“Hello, Lass,” one smiles down at me. He’s tall and broad shouldered with a thick, red beard. His hair is hidden under a hood but his freckled face is open and his smile’s rather disarming.

“Hello,” the other one replies with a slight nod. He is younger than the red haired man with long black hair that curls around his pale face. Even from where I stand, I can see how green his eyes are. They are mesmerizing. 

“Have you seen a man here, Lass? He’s about this big,” the man raises his hand above his head, “dark hair?”

“Is he wearing the same getup as you two?” I ask and gesture between the two of them. The taller man looks down and frowns at the leather. 

“Yes,” the younger man, closer in my age than I first realized, says with an impatient nod. He seems to disappear for a moment in the sunlight as another guest comes in. I open my mouth in shock as he shimmers back into a solid form with an irritated look on his face. The other man doesn’t seem to notice.

Great, I am going crazy. First the teeth, now this?

“Dining room,” I say and point toward the doorway. I move past them and step out the front door, not bothering to grab my boots. I hurry down the steps and take a deep breath. The fresh air calms my worry and I stand there as I let myself calm down. The small village is full of people moving about. I smile softly as I watch the normally downer people smile and run their hands over foreign silks. 

“Alaina!” I wince at the sound of her high pitched voice. Madam Carmen looks me up and down before sighing, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Resting for a moment,” I answer defensively.

“Potts needs your help in the kitchen. Wash up and, for heaven’s sale, put on some shoes,” she orders before stomping back inside. I throw my head back and heave out a heavy sigh before turning to head back inside. 

I snatch a pair of her older slip ons and hurry into the kitchen. I snatch an apron and wrap it over my white shirt before turning to face Potts. She smiles as she grabs a tray and hands it into my waiting hands. 

“Table two,” she orders and I nod before turning toward the open door. I step into the noisy dining room full of people because of the ongoing trading happening outside.

“Here you go,” I tell the men as I place their plates down on their table. I notice their empty tankards and promise a refill before disappearing back into the kitchen. Most of these men are locals, despite the large amount of new people in the area. I know most, if not all, are going to be stumbling home drunk before the sun had fully set.

I dart around the tables, snatching empty plates and dishware off without anyone taking much notice of me. It doesn’t take long for the light to pass and it takes even less time before the men are stumbling out of there. 

Only three men remain in the dining room. I sigh as I collect the remaining dishes off the empty tables when I realize they are the men in leather. The cloaked man seems to have gone and I’m grateful for that.

“More!” the bearded one yells while slamming his tankard down on the table they share. I roll my eyes as I walk over to the table with a sloshing jug of rum.

“Here you go,” I mutter as I fill it to the brim. The man smiles as he starts to gulp it down, the liquid sliding down the sides of his beard as he did so. I watch him for a moment before stepping away.

“They’re getting bolder,” the bearded one says as he belched. I pull a damp rag from my apron and start wiping down the table. I don’t mean to eavesdrop but he’s speaking so loud. I look toward the kitchen and I knew I should head in there and avoid overhearing this conversation. Something inside me, however, urges me to stay. 

Stupidly, I listen to it. 

“Bolder is a word for it. They burned down two villages in two weeks,” the teenager says as he sips his own tankard.

“I’ve found something that might level the playing field. Claif Jordan,” the first one I saw says. I froze in my effort to look busy. Claif Jordan? What does this guy know about my late father?

“Hate to break it to you,” the bearded man slurs out, “but he’s dead, buddy.” 

“I know that, you drunken i***t. He had a kid,” the other man snapped.

“Have you found this kid yet?” the teenager askes, glancing up at me. I spin and head toward the kitchen with my cheeks burning and my heart racing. Potts glances up from her pile of dishes as I hide behind the door and strain to hear the rest of the conversation. 

“I think so,” he replies. I hold my breath as I struggle to figure out what they would want with me. 

How do they know my father? 

Who are they? 

More importantly, what did they want with me?