A Tale of Dragons

Chapter 10

His Excellency, Prince Vulrit of Marcadia." The herald announced loudly as he led a group into the hall. The prince entered with his entourage. Rachel suppressed the urge to sigh again; another stuck up prince looking to forge an alliance with her father by marrying her. She was getting really tired of them treating her as if that was her only purpose in life.

"My lady, your beauty is as ravishing as the sun when it rises." Prince Vulrit said, with a dramatic bow.

Rachel meant to say something gracious in return, but her mouth ran ahead of her. "And by that do mean common, because the sunrise is seen every day?"

The prince opened his mouth to respond, but he seemed to have spent all his wit on his compliment and had nothing left to think of an answer. He'd probably practiced that compliment for days to get it so polished. She wasn't surprised; he looked like he used his sword arm more than his brain. She could almost feel her father's glare and moved quickly to rectify the situation.

"Forgive me my prince." Rachel said feigning interest and lying through her teeth. "Your compliment was well received and I'm most grateful for your wit and charm. Many princes have come to court me, but I feel your sincerity dwarfs theirs and I would be delighted to entertain you at dinner tonight."

Only now did she glance at her father, but the mighty, all-wise, all-powerful, and oh-so-benevolent Lord Delmar didn't deign to look back at her. He kept his eyes on the prince and they started discussing some alliance, seemingly determined to bore her.

Rachel busied herself practicing her magic.

She would pull all the heat out of one of the candles in the room, extinguishing it. Then, she'd pull some heat from the great fireplace and use it to reignite the wick. She turned it into a game, seeing how fast she could extinguish and reignite a single candle.

When that became boring, she started playing with her ring. Her father had given it to her a few years ago and warned her never to take it off. She never had, but twirled it endlessly around her finger. The strange thing was, the skin under her ring started itching whenever she disobeyed him. He said it was a regular ring, but she sometimes felt like it was enchanted.

Almost an hour later, the prince and Lord Delmar finished their negotiations. Unsurprisingly, her father had walked all over the prince in the negotiations and received the better end of the deal by far.

"Clear the court." Lord Delmar ordered once the prince had left. Rachel stood up to leave, but he spoke again. "Not you Rachel."

"Come here." He ordered once the room was clear. Rachel rose from her seat and stood in front of his throne. He rose up to his full and considerable height and then -- seemingly out of nowhere -- the back of his hand slapped across her cheek.

Hard.

"Ow! Father what was that--" Rachel started to say, but he slapped her again, even harder.

"I have tolerated your insolence for long enough." He said without emotion. "Your only value to me is to increase my standing through marriage."

"But father--" Rachel began, but was interrupted by his fist hitting her in the stomach and winding her. She fell to the floor gasping for breath.

"If you ever speak to a suitor like that again, I will throw you out into the cold with the peasants to teach you some respect."

A cold fury started to burn within her, but it was met with an equally powerful urge to comply and obey him. Rachel absentmindedly started twirling the ring on her finger. The skin under it was itching again. Her fury fought with the compulsion to submit, and eventually her fury won out.

"No you won't!" Rachel said, standing up again. "How would your court react if they saw you throw your only daughter out into the cold? What would they think of you then? Who would ever want to marry into your family with a father as--"

He aimed another punch, but this time Rachel was expecting it. She dodged, only just avoiding the fist. Unfortunately, she didn't see his knee coming up at the same time. It collided with her chest and sent her over the edge of the platform. She landed on the stone floor and cried out in pain

Her father didn't seem to care.

He dropped down, grabbed her by the throat and hauled up into the air with one hand.

"Yes. I. Would." He said, and then dropped her.

She fell onto the stone floor for a second time, this time managing to land on her feet. She immediately took several steps back.

"Your behavior today has threatened to dishonor our family name." He continued while Rachel tried to catch her breath. "I have no problem purging those without honor from my family."

When Rachel finally caught her breath, she'd had enough. She started pulling heat from the all the nearby sources of fire to fuel her magic. That compulsion to obey fought her, but she pushed it aside.

"Foolish girl." Her father said, and abruptly all of the fires in the hall were completely drained of heat. He collected all the fire in his hand, then tossed it into the air above Rachel's head. From there it shot to the ground, forming a ten foot ring of fire around her. She was trapped. Furthermore, she couldn't pull the heat from the flames. She didn't know how, but he was preventing her from doing it.

"Listen closely." Lord Delmar said. "From this moment onward, you will cease your childish ways and obey my every command. Do I make myself clear?" The ring of fire contracted a little as if to emphasize the point.

Rachel could feel the heat of the flames just a few feet away. They were almost as tall as she was and hotter than any flames she'd ever felt before. She didn't think she would survive trying to jump through them. She could feel the compulsion to obey grow in strength.

Where was that coming from?

"I already do--" she started to say, but the ring of fire closed even more.

"Do I make myself clear?" he asked again.

Rachel was astounded at the display of magical power. Her mentor, the most powerful mage in the court, would have already exhausted his powers by now. Yet her father showed no signs of fatigue and the flames showed no sign of dying. If anything, they were getting hotter.

Rachel thought frantically. She knew that fire was weak to wind attacks, but she didn't think she could blow a portion of the fire out and get through before it closed again. Then she had an idea; a crazy, brilliant, dangerous idea.

She tapped her mana to grab all of the air within the circle of fire, plus the air outside of the circle opposite her father. The compulsion to obey fought her, but with a titanic effort she shifted all of the air molecules so they were pointing in the same direction. The blast of wind she created was powerful enough to lift her off her feet and throw her clear.

In hindsight, she might have overdone it.

The air blew a gap in the flames at the same time it blasted her off her feet and threw her several yards away from her father. She landed awkwardly, but -- thanks to her successfully begging the castle's sword master for lessons -- turned it into a roll and end up in a crouch. She didn't waste a single second; she turned around and started running for all she was worth.

Before she had taken two steps, she bounced off something solid.

She fell backward in slow motion. Her father was in front of her. It didn't make sense. How had he moved so fast? It just wasn't possible for someone to move that fast! She had thrown everything she knew at him and he had beaten her like a toddler challenging an Arena champion.

Rachel landed butt first on the stone floor.

Lord Delmar stood over her, his face dispassionate. There was no anger or fury. He didn't scream or yell. He didn't even look amused. He looked... disappointed. Her own father looked down his nose at her and uttered one word. Just one word, but it shattered her entire world.

"Pathetic."

Rachel felt tears well up in her eyes. He had always been stern, but never cruel. Before today, he had never hit her or said an unkind word to her, though his minions weren't so lucky. Her childhood had been strict, but Rachel could always tell that he disciplined her to help her improve. She thought he wanted the best for her.

Now she knew better.

She recognized that look in his eyes. It was the look he gave to soldiers and servants who had failed so badly that he didn't consider them useful anymore. The first time she saw that look, he had been gazing at a sword that had broken in practice. He had thrown the sword away without a second glance. He had discarded it like the useless tool it was. Later that day, the smith who forged it was exiled from the city.

He was looking at her that same way.

"Father, I--" Rachel started to say, but was stopped when the back of his hand smacked against her cheek. She felt the skin tear on one of his rings, probably his signet ring. He didn't hit her hard at all, but that single slap hurt more than breaking every bone in her body.

Something in her broke.

She could feel it.

She didn't know if it was her mind, her body or her spirit, but she felt it. She felt like an enormous hole had been carved out of her body, out of her soul. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if he had planned for this to happen. But it was a fleeting thought, quickly replaced by a profound sense of emptiness.

He still had that look of disappointment on his face.

She had seen that look on his face earlier when he had ordered that poor soldier to get out of his sight for failing to kill a dragon and a wood elf. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be sent away like some worthless person who had failed him.

The compulsion to obey prompted her to try and become useful again.

"I can prove myself." Rachel said, although now she couldn't meet his eyes and addressed her comments to the floor. "I'm not like that soldier who failed to kill the dragon and the elf. I'm better, I can do better."

"Can you?" Lord Delmar's tone left no doubt in Rachel's mind that he didn't think she could.

"Give me a chance and I won't let you down." Rachel said, though she wasn't entirely sure why. At that point, Rachel almost didn't even care.

"Very well." He said. "But you will get no head start, no advantage, and no special treatment. If you can kill the dragon and the elf before my other men do, then perhaps we can reconsider your position."

With that, Lord Delmar turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Rachel feeling like the floor had dropped out from under her life. Despite that, the compulsion whispered that everything would be okay again once she'd fulfilled her father's wishes. It seemed to blunt the force of those feelings, like they were coming from a long way off.

Rachel shook her head trying to clear it.

She didn't want to go dragon hunting. She hadn't meant to imply she would physically hunt them down, but that didn't matter because she had a mission now. She started considering the list of people in the castle she'd need to contact in order to find them.

In the back of her mind, Rachel knew that something was wrong with her. She didn't want to kill anyone, but she didn't have the emotional energy to fight that strange compulsion right now. The compulsion wanted her to please her father by killing the dragon and wood elf. The compulsion argued that all this soul-searching could wait until later.

Right now, she had a dragon to kill.

* * *

Alana felt like someone had used her entire body as a punching bag then strapped lead weights to her limbs and head. She was vaguely aware of being awake, but she just wanted to sleep. She kept her eyes closed and tried to fall back to sleep, but just couldn't do it.

She thought about opening her eyes, but that felt like too much work. So instead, she just listened. Judging by the noises, she was in a town somewhere. She could hear the clip-clop of horses, the squawking of chickens and the sounds of a busy marketplace.

How did she get here?

It slowly came back to her, her house burning, running from the soldiers with Ethan... Ethan! Despite the weariness and pain, Alana tried to struggle awake and up. She didn't succeed because her body just would not listen.

"Rest easy there little one." A deep voice said. She felt a warm hand touch her forehead.

"Unc... Garth?" Alana managed to say.

"Yes, it's me child. Now rest."

"Eth... than..." Alana managed to choke out. Her mouth was incredibly dry. A few drops of water dribbled onto her lips and she licked them up. Her mouth felt like a desert, but there was now a slow trickle of drops moistening it.

"The dragon is alive." Uncle Garth said. "Now relax, or all his work to save you will be undone."

Alana relaxed and the flow of water stopped. Uncle Garth had always been her favorite uncle and he had never lied to her. If he said Ethan was okay, then he would live. Oddly, just the strain of trying to sit up felt like a lot of work. She was tired now, and closed her eyes.

Sleep took her quickly.