Free The Dragon's Son by Margaret Weis Page B

took
his place alongside Draconas.
    Two knights, well armed, and accompanied by well-armed retainers, cantered
along the road. One of the horses whinnied and shied at the body lying in the
road. Dismounting, their swords in hand, the knights went immediately to the
aid of the nun, exclaiming in angry tones at footpads who would dare harm a
holy sister.
    “What do you make of it?” asked one, scratching his chin, as his servant
tried to revive the holy sister.
    “Thieves fall out,” answered his friend. “They attacked the nun, robbed her,
then began fighting over the spoils.”
    “But this one’s burnt to a cinder, my lord,” said the servant, awed.
    “Witness God’s wrath,” intoned the knight sternly. “And let it be a lesson
to you.”
    “This bastard’s still breathing, my lord,” reported one of the retainers,
bending over Grald.
    “He’s a big brute,” commented the knight. “We’ll have to build an
extra-strong gallows to hold him. Bind him fast, Reynard, and keep your sword
at his throat.”
    Hidden among the trees, Draconas made a slight gesture at a field that could
be seen from the road. One of the retainers turned his head, looked in that
direction.
    Shadowy figures could be seen haring over the freshly plowed earth, running
for their lives.
    “My lord! There, in the field! Some of the rascals, trying to escape!”
    “By holy Saint Dunstan, this promises to be a more exciting evening than we
had planned,” cried one of the knights, leaping on his horse and galloping off
in pursuit of the will-o’-the-wisp of Draconas’s magic. The other knight
followed after him. The servants roused the groggy nun as the soldiers bound
Grald with bowstrings, and Draconas breathed an inward sigh of relief.
    He would have liked to settle his score with Grald and maybe even unmask the
dragon. Another time, however, when there weren’t humans watching and a
half-dragon child on his hands. Draconas did gain some amusement out of the
thought of Grald waking to find himself in a dungeon, awaiting the hangman’s
noose. He’d find a way out, of course. With his magic, Grald could walk through
the walls, leaving the bewildered humans to scratch their heads, none the
wiser. Still, it would put the dragon to no small amount of trouble, Draconas
reflected with satisfaction. And by the time Grald finagled his way out of
jail, Bellona and Ven would be safely away.
    The servants were preoccupied with the holy sister.
The soldiers laughingly discussed what to do with the thief’s remains,
suggested making him crow bait. Draconas nodded to the boy, who rose to his
feet. Quietly, stealthily, they left their hiding place and crept deeper into
the forest, heading for the river.
     
    Draconas and Ven crossed over the river on a narrow bridge leading to a
sheep pasture. In the starlit distance, a grove of trees was a dark mass
against a paler background of grassland. Draconas headed for the grove and,
once sheltered beneath thick branches, he deemed it safe to stop. He eased
Bellona onto a bed of dead leaves.
    “Will she be all right?” Ven asked.
    “She’s not dead,” Draconas replied cautiously. “Which is more than I
expected. Her leather helm saved her from a cracked skull. I need water. Go
fill this.” He handed Ven his water skin. “We need to keep her warm. Can you
build a fire?”
    Ven nodded, not wasting time with words. He fetched the water, then left to
search for dry wood. Draconas took advantage of the boy’s absence to examine
Bellona’s wounds. He was relieved to discover they were not as serious as they
had first appeared. Once a human has started down the road to death, not even
his dragon magic could save her. He could not fully mend her broken bones, but
he could splint the arm, ease her pain, stanch the bleeding, and alleviate
shock. He had Bellona resting comfortably by the time Ven returned with an
armload of wood. The boy tended to business before asking any more questions.
Only when the fire