Chapter 72
Cressyda
CRESSYDA PANTED, HER whole body shaking.
She could feel the sweltering presence of the Great Dragon bearing down upon her with all its perilous strength, and the terror of its rumbling, hissing voice vibrated through her body.
Her muscles trembled under the weight of sheer, paralysing fear, and sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes, mingling with the dust clinging to her skin.
Another who speaks the ancient tongue? said the Great Dragon. It almost sounded amused, if such a thing were possible. It lowered its head, nostrils flared, yellow eyes fixed upon her.
Cressyda stood as still as she could, forcing her quivering legs to remain locked beneath her.
She had the creature’s attention, and if it was speaking to her, it was not unleashing ruin upon the Kingdom of Calestra.
That alone was reason enough to stand her ground.
She had come to the mountains with a plan and, although things had not exactly occurred the way she had expected them to, there was a chance it could still work.
She must persuade the Great Dragon to forge a new treaty and restore the fragile balance that had kept Calestra from falling into chaos.
There could be no hint of fear, no flicker of weakness. If she faltered now, all would be lost.
State your proposition, rumbled the Great Dragon, and the ground shook.
Cressyda gulped and licked her dry lips, the taste of ash and fear on her tongue.
Magic was coursing through her, throbbing around her head and crackling at her fingertips.
It was difficult to focus; every heartbeat sent another pulse of unfamiliar wild power racing through her veins, threatening to unravel her thoughts and sweep away her reason.
But she gritted her teeth and forced her mind to still.
She had to hold on to her courage and purpose.
She reached inwards, past the blinding swirl of energy, trying to grasp hold of the loose, fraying threads of her plan.
In the face of the mighty creature before her, what she had plotted seemed almost impossible; doubt hissed at her from every corner of her mind. And yet she had to try.
Three hundred winters ago you made an agreement with one of my ancestors, she replied. Today we have broken that treaty and by right you can rage destruction upon our kingdom. But we are here to offer you a new bargain.
She fought to keep her voice bold and clear, drawing upon the wit and skill she had been forced to learn throughout her childhood to survive – every lesson in diplomacy, every carefully measured word, every subtle tilt of tone that could placate and delicately shift the balance of power.
Beside her, she could see the Mountain woman called Maylie watching in awe.
Our proposition is this, she continued. We offer you another life to spare Calestra from your wrath.
The Great Dragon snorted. What life? it asked. I have the lives of many maidens.
There will be no more maidens, said Cressyda. She clenched her hands at her sides into fists and prayed that this would work. Long ago, the words of your treaty were twisted by our Kings. They said that you asked only for women with Mountain blood to be sacrificed. But that is not true, is it?
The Great Dragon made a deep, shuddering, clicking noise. I asked only for a life, it replied. I did not specify whose.
Cressyda nodded. Then I am suggesting that, instead of maidens … She drew in a deep breath. This time we offer you a King.
Maylie gave a little gasp of surprise.
Since the rulers of our lands have lied to their people for three hundred winters, it is only right that you take one of their lives as payment in a new agreement, Cressyda added, trying to sound bolder than she felt. And in return you will give your word that Calestra will not be attacked.
The Great Dragon crouched, still and silent. Then it said, One life?
Cressyda seized upon its thoughtful tone.
This will be a King’s life – a noble-born man in his prime, she replied quickly.
It will be yours. Everyone will hear of it, and it will be a lesson, a reminder not just to Calestra, and not just to the Kingdoms of Galasque, but to all in the realm of your mighty power.
She paused and added gently, I wager that you do not really want to burn your mountains.
They are too beautiful to be reduced to soot and ash.
Wind whistled over the ridge and the fine, downy hair on the Great Dragon’s chin fluttered. A King’s life in a new treaty, it said slowly, almost to itself.
Cressyda felt a surge of heady, desperate hope. The possibility of success shimmered before her, almost in reach.
Then, beside her, Maylie stepped forward. Great Dragon, we also ask that you return the past Maiden Sacrifices, said the woman. Those like Princess Tiannie will become themselves again.
Cressyda turned in horror. Surely this was asking too much?
The Great Dragon growled and a furious flash of red glowed at its throat. Your people hunted my kin until we were few!
Cressyda bit back a yelp of fear, panicking that the opportunity was slipping away from them. But Maylie did not flinch. There was a hard, steely set to the Mountain woman’s shoulders.
We have learnt our lesson, Great Dragon, she said. None of your kin in the mountains have been slain in the last three hundred winters and your flocks must have grown. I would guess you have enough dragons of your own. You do not need more. Then she added softly, Please, I beg this of you.
She caught Cressyda’s eye and they shared a fearful, desperate look.
The Great Dragon considered them both with an unblinking gaze, before settling back down on its haunches. At last, it said, Some maidens have perished, as all creatures must, and some have turned fully beast and cannot return.
Cressyda felt some of her hope returning. We understand, she said.
The Great Dragon tossed its head, scales flashing in the moonlight like molten copper. If any of my kin are slain again, it growled, the sound low and thunderous, like stone grinding on stone, the treaty will be void.
Cressyda nodded, barely daring to believe that this might work.
The Great Dragon paused and Cressyda waited.
The moment dragged on like an eternity.
The Great Dragon’s yellow eyes seemed to pierce her, weighing her bargain against some ancient measure. Then it said, So be it.
The words were deep and final.
A ripple spread through the air, a tightness that hissed and snapped, growing wider and stronger with each pulse.
The dim starlight above bent with it, trembling as though the very realm itself had shifted and the ground beneath Cressyda’s feet hummed, as the magic melded together, twisting into a new, single bond.
It was done.
The Great Dragon’s wings twitched and flexed, unfurling. The webbed membranes stretched open with a leathery slap, patterned with scars and veins.
Cressyda inhaled, as if she had shocked even herself. She almost staggered to the ground in pure relief. The King is on his way down the mountains, returning to— she began.
I know who walks my mountains, interrupted the Great Dragon. First, I will fly over the city and remind your people of my presence. It has been three hundred winters since they have seen my strength.
The Great Dragon threw back its head and roared. The sound was deafening, an ancient bellow that reverberated across the mountains and valleys like an avalanche of rock.
We have our agreement, Mountain Princess.
Cressyda stumbled into a low bow, her ears still ringing with the creature’s immense howl, her body shaking with relief.
The Great Dragon’s claws dug into the stone ridge, curling with anticipation. Then, with a shriek that split the night sky, it sprang forward, power coiling through its body. Its wings caught the air and hurled it upwards in a single, mighty leap.
Cressyda shielded her face as wind and heat blasted over her.
The Great Dragon arced through the air, swooping in a graceful curve, then plunged into the valley below, a vast shadow melting into the deeper dark. Within moments, it vanished from sight.
Cressyda stood on the ridge, the last traces of magic still flickering in her fingers, the weight of history pressing down upon her shoulders.