Chapter 17
Seventeen
Elowen had done what she promised, and for five days, she made sure to bring as much as her satchel could carry with her back to the village. Her father did not question her again, and he did not need to.
They did not give second chances here—not even to their own family.
Elowen had slept in later than usual. Her body had grown weak again, as she forced herself to vomit up what Midas fed her every day after they parted. She tried to lose weight, to throw off any suspicious eyes and it made her tired and lethargic.
She was helping her father make a batch of rash salve when the shouting started.
The two of them stood in the doorway of their home as a man stormed through the village square. His eyes were wild, breath frantic with each word.
“I saw it!” he yelled. “High above the cliffs just this day before the morn! Wings the size of rooftops, black as night, cloaked in smoke and ash and fire! Dragon! Dragon!”
People spilled from their homes, muttering, scoffing, gasping. Some crossed their arms in disbelief, others looked to the skies in fear.
The man pointed toward the mountains. “It’s the beast that has been stealing our livestock! The goats! The chickens! The cows! It will starve us all!”
“Drunk,” Elowen’s neighbor said.
Her father nodded in agreement. “A coward stirring up trouble.”
Elowen didn’t speak, she was frozen in place. Her stomach turned. Someone had spotted Midas.
The Council arrived soon after, cloaks stiff and masks glowing a bright ivory in the sun. The Council did not tolerate lies, but they did honor the old ways, and if there was a dragon, Elowen knew they would deal with it in the same way their ancestors did.
Midas was in danger.
Elowen tried to sneak away, to warn him that he had been spotted, but one of the Councilmen pointed a crooked finger at her.
“You there! Forest girl! Speak quickly, have you seen any signs of this beast in the forest?”
Elowen’s face was tense, and she slowly shook her head. They believed her, of course. What sane woman would see a dragon and keep quiet about it?
They turned to the man once more, listening to his description of the dragon. Elowen knew he wasn’t lying to them, because he described Midas too accurately.
And then, as always, the Council acted.
“If a dragon remains,” one started, “it must be destroyed.”
Another added: “If it has already stolen from our fields, then it will not stop at livestock.”
They all agreed with each other, quietly discussing amongst themselves for a moment, before turning to Elowen’s father.
“We must lure it,” they said. “Healer, we require poison.”
Elowen’s throat tightened. Her father nodded obediently. “What kind?”
“A salve as potent as you can manage, enough to weaken the beast if not kill it, so we may finish the job by our own hands.” His eyes flicked to Elowen’s from under his mask. “You will help,” he commanded.
She said nothing, and quietly followed her father back into their home.
He dug through dusty shelves for a while, pulling out an old tome Elowen had never seen him reference before.
Her father opened it carefully, flipping through the stiff pages until he found what he was looking for.
He straightened his broken glasses on the tip of his nose and fingered down the page as he read.
Without looking up, he began reading off ingredients, expecting Elowen to gather them. “Iron Ivyleaf. Widow’s tongue. Ashenshroom. Sap of Blackbark.” He looked up for a moment, scowling at her as she stood unmoving. “With haste, girl, we don’t have much time.”
He continued reading down the page of all the most toxic and deadly ingredients in their world. His words did not tremble, but every movement in Elowen’s body did.
She crushed the herbs, ground the roots, mixed the oils with the powders into a thick, muddy-colored salve that stung the hairs in her nostrils and made her eyes water.
When they were done, her father gathered the large bowl and had her follow him back out into the square where a sacrificial goat waited. It was tied to the whipping post, its eyes too large for its skull.
Elowen shook as her and her father dipped their hands into the bowl. They rubbed the salve across the goat’s hide, steady and even, coating its flank, its shoulder, its spine. No one spoke, but she knew they were being carefully watched by the Council.
Once it was coated in the poison, they demanded her and her father lead the goat to the tree line to let it free. She watched, trying her best to hide her tears as the forest swallowed it whole.
What had she done?
The scent of poison clung to her, and it made her sick. She was under the eyes of her father and the Council, and so no matter how badly she wanted to, she could not rush into the forest to warn Midas. Not yet, at least.
When the sun went down, she would sneak out, to find him. It was a long few hours for her, filled with anxiety and guilt unlike anything she had felt before. Her heart hammered in her ears, her skin itched, and her eyes remained wet with tears.
When she finally heard her father begin to snore, Elowen quietly snuck out of her little cottage.
She could not leave through the front gates like normal, for the guards were keeping careful watch for the dragon.
She had to climb up the rough stone wall and crawl over the top.
It was dark, and her body was weak with hunger, but she forced herself to climb.
She had to let instinct bring her to the lake, for it was too dark to see and in her haste she had not thought to bring a torch or candle with her.
The forest was colder at night, and she tripped over branches she’d normally float over. She felt like she was being watched, but not in the protective kind way she felt when Midas was hiding in the trees. No. She felt threatened.
Her heart was lodged in her throat by the time she made it to the lake, barely lit by the crescent moon. It shimmered faintly beneath the cloudy sky.
The moment she stepped into the clearing, she loudly called out for Midas. There was no response. She called out again. Everything was so still, even the trees.
Then, finally, in the dimmest of light, she caught the glimmer of his gold-kissed scales. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw Midas looking down at the goat, still alive, not yet consumed.
“Midas!” she shouted. As she approached, he lifted his attention from the goat, and a low rumble left his throat that shook the trees. She could see it in his eyes, he was angry.
Elowen raised her shaking hands. “Please listen.”
His nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply.
The moment he caught her scent and the poison lingering on it, the sound that left his throat was not a growl, it was a roar. It made the ground tremble, sent the gentle water of the lake rippling, and nearly made her lose her footing.
“Midas!” she cried. “Please, it’s not what you think!”
But he was already baring his teeth, and smoke began to build as the rage in his throat came alight.
You smell of this poison, he said in his language, though he knew she could not hear it. Do you take me for a fool?!
Elowen’s eyes filled with tears. “I had no choice. But I came to warn you, please understand–”
Lies, he roared back, and then he snapped his jaws, barely missing her legs. The sound was like thunder, and Elowen screamed with a fear she’s never known. Humans. Always. Lie.
Elowen tried to take a step forward. “I would never hurt you.”
He recoiled from her, wings flaring wide, the fire in his throat making the air around him glow orange. Go away! he shouted.
“Please believe me,” she begged, pressing her hands to her chest, her heart aching from a pain she’s never known.
He lunged forward again. He got close enough that the razor-sharp edge of his teeth caught the hem of her dress, tearing off a piece of the cloth. Go!
Though Elowen could not understand his words, she felt it in his actions. He did not want her there. He did not trust her anymore. She sobbed, ragged and helpless as she backed away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Midas.”
For a heartbeat, she thought he might stop her, but he just growled again, orange light leaking from his mouth. Her tears fell freely as she walked lifelessly back to her village.
Her cries were so loud that she did not notice the movement in the woods around her. She did not notice the whispers.
Somewhere, deep in the woods, near the lake where they had met, Midas lowered his head, trembling with rage and grief.
The scent of her was still clinging to his nostrils, sweet, familiar, but beneath it all…
Poison. Betrayal.
Midas was no fool. He smelled the salve long before he saw the goat.
He knew the humans had sent it to kill him, but he was too old, too strong for such weak poison to do much more than make him salivate sickly.
He had intended to kill the goat and leave its carcass far away from the lake so that it did not poison the water Elowen drank.
But when she emerged, and he smelled that same poison on her, he had never felt as destroyed as he did in that moment. He trusted her. He…cared for her. How could she do such a thing?
Midas stayed there near the lake, pacing in circles. He had half a mind to scorch her village for her treachery, to be rid of them entirely.
But he could hear her crying as she returned home. It was not a cry of deceit, it was real, from deep in her chest, as if she truly had lost something when he sent her away. It twisted something painful inside of him.
Then after a while, he heard something in the distance.
He raised his head sharply, golden eyes narrowing toward the east. The direction of her village. The air trembled faintly, carrying faint vibrations to his ears: shouts, muffled screams, and then—
Crack.
It was not thunder. Not lightning. No natural sound he had ever heard. He heard it again. Again. And again.
Midas’ heart stuttered. His claws sank into the soil, curling until the ground split beneath them. He strained his senses, forcing his body to still, to listen.
Then, he heard a cry, high and raw and human.
Elowen!