Polo Shawcross: Dragon Soldier Page 3

  “Sorry,” I said, touching her thigh, “I was a bit carried away.” She smiled.

  “So was I,” she said, “I seem to remember encouraging you.” I looked at my knees. I’d definitely had a nasty carpet burn on one knee. There had been blood there. A voice inside my head noted that an ability to heal was also an excellent trait to have. I smiled.

  “I think of my scars as part of me, so they came back with what I think of as me. Maybe I’m supposed to have them. If that makes sense. Do they look so horrible?” She shook her head.

  “As scars go,” she said, “yours are good ones. Some people’s are ugly, but yours, I like. They’ll look even better as they fade more. Mind you, as we know, I’m sick. Other girls may not be like me.” I laughed.

  “Hmm,” I said, “I don’t think any girls are quite like you. I’m about to fall asleep and it’s time for training. I better go cancel the morning.” I dressed, kissed her goodbye and opened the door. I gasped. “It wasn’t locked.” She laughed.

  “Nuh-uh,” she said, grinning, “you didn’t shout. Someone would have been in the door and rescued you. But they’d never have stopped laughing. Probably not for years.” I laughed.

  “When can I see you again, Miri?”

  “You can’t,” she said, and smiled. For a moment I couldn’t believe I’d heard her. “This was a once-off.” My heart broke.

  I tried to persuade her but she was adamant, the risk of getting attached to me was too great and she wouldn’t risk it.

  “I don’t want to end up fond of you then have to split because if we make a baby it will have flippers. Half-peasant isn’t enough. I have to find someone with no Westwych blood. You’re riddled with it on several lines.”

  In shock, sorrowing, disappointed and exhausted, I staggered off into the dawn.

  ****

  Chapter 3 – Favours for the Queen

  Bernard’s chivvying woke me, him insisting I’d said to wake me before afternoon tea. I had no idea why, though I believed him that I’d made the request. He added that there was a note from Stefan, inviting me to his quarters for afternoon tea as he was back in the citadel for a week, so I might as well get up and go. Stefan was pure Dragon, and some time ago I’d realised he was Azrael’s father which meant technically my best friend was a Dragon cuckoo.

  After a shower and some willow bark powder for my head, I walked down to the new fort. Stefan was staying in a suite there that looked up at the citadel. I found him on the private balcony. I was quite hungover, and we sat with coffee and pipes of mindweed. There were sandwiches, and I hoped that after a smoke I could eat something. Stefan asked about my experience with Miri.

  “Oh gods,” I said, “does everyone know?” He shook his head.

  “I’m the only one. Miri may act wild but she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “It was a fizzog,” I said, feeling glum in a way that had nothing to do with my hangover. “At first I was all excited but I didn’t even have wings.” I thought, and then she dumped me.

  “Wings are a matter of practice,” said Stefan. “Have some food.”

  “I will,” I said, and then it sank in. “Serious, it’s practice? That I can manage.” Maybe I could talk Miri round, or persuade her with my tongue in other ways. I would show her my lineage and see if she might risk it. Did we need to have children? We could adopt. Galaia’s tits, I wasn’t the jealous type, she could bed some peasant if she wanted a baby of her own.

  “While you’re practising,” Stefan said, “the Dragon queen asks a favour.” For a moment I had no idea what he was talking about, then remembered I was going to practise shape-changing. As for Lilith, I had a bad feeling.

  “Oh?” I said. I was thinking oh dear.

  “She wants you to go with Azrael to the Military Guild.” He paused. “I don’t think anyone has the right to ask you to do that, but said I’d ask. I owe her some favours so I’m asking. You don’t owe her anything.”

  “Well,” I said, “she saved my life, twice. Once in person. Brought me back from Haka’s kingdom with her own blood.”

  “Alright,” Stefan said, smiling, “so maybe she’s earned some points.”

  “You don’t like her?” I said. He tilted his head.

  “Lilith and I have an interesting relationship.”

  “You’re in love with her?” I said and raised my eyebrows. He laughed.

  “No,” he said, sounding definite and still smiling, “though we thought we were once. Then I realised Lilith is always first. And second.” He laughed. “If you’re lucky, you come in third. However if she has a favourite horse you’ll only make it to fourth place. So you don’t have to go to Malion on her account.”

  I looked up at the citadel, over the gardens filled with wandering Hangers On. It was High Season again. From September to March – the Season - the Green Dragon Citadel and the surrounding city of Peterhaven were a magnet for those wanting a good time. Full summer, December to the end of February, was the High Season.

  “I don’t mind,” I said, “I was thinking of going to keep Azrael company, maybe study at another guild. No point me going to the Military Guild if I don’t want to join the army.” He nodded.

  “I know I’m saying you shouldn’t go, but it was good for me. Young Blood with a duchy of his own, it’ll be a educational experience. It’s an excellent grounding for a young gentleman, the guild’s teaching. Lilith will of course pay your expenses.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a bad idea.

  “I do enjoy martial arts,” I said, “and military history. How bad can it be? However, I’ll need buying out of my commission at the end. I do not want to be in the army.”

  I remembered suddenly, I was rich and could buy my own way out, but if Lilith wanted me with Azrael I thought it only fair she financed the expedition.

  “Done,” Stefan said and I hoped I hadn’t just been so. He offered his hand. “Deal?”

  “Deal it is,” I said, and we shook.

  ****

  A document arrived within days. The Dragon queen would pay my Malion expenses including school fees and equipment, and whatever costs were incurred in getting me out of service in the end. It was signed simply, Lilith.

  I tried to get Miri to continue seeing me on purely sexual grounds and she laughed at me. Then she smiled, gave me a hug, avoided a kiss, and told me I’d get over her. I was aware of the irony.

  With a broken heart, I could have continued drinking and womanising for the summer. Instead I stopped alcohol and lost myself in prepping for the Military Guild. I had something to look forward to. Miri said she was also going to Malion, to look for a husband who wouldn’t sire something with flippers. I still had hopes of winning her over.

  I also wanted wings. Hope buoyed my dedication but - despite my best efforts, and hours spent meditating - I couldn’t change shape again. Not even without wings. I began to think it was a fluke, I’d never do it again, and even began to imagine it might be for the best. What if I became trapped in dragon-shape?

  Despite what I saw as my failure, Azrael was heartily jealous. He’d never managed even one transformation, with or without wings.

  ****

  One morning in the pits, Azrael told me his half-brother, Young Perry, was using his position to get women. I sidestepped a hip-high sweep, deflected and went in with a kick to the knee that he dodged, then struck a blow to his shoulder that connected hard. Got him, and the bell rang for the end of the round.

  “Fair enough,” I said, panting and sweating in the armour, “he wouldn’t get them on personality or looks. And he’s incapable of being nice to anyone.”

  “Phew,” said Azrael, “we going again?” I shrugged. He couldn’t bear to end a spar with the last blow against him. I could torture him by refusing to spar until tomorrow. “Nanny told me,” said Azrael, “Young Perry was promising them marriage and a crown if they bedded him.” I snorted.

  “If they’re stupid enough to drop their knickers for the promise of being a princess,” I said,
“they deserve him.”

  “No,” said Azrael, “he’s promising they’ll be queen. Promising.”

  “You’re kidding?” I said. Was Perry crazy? I thought he was, but surely even crazy people weren’t this blatant? Azrael shook his head.

  “Completely freaking serious.” He stood to attention, bowed slightly, and raised his weapon to his face. I sighed.

  “Aye,” I said, “alright.” I raised my own wooden sabre.

  “And he’s still keeping Cida as his woman on a string,” Azrael added. The bell rang and we started again. Cida had been a childhood friend of Azrael’s. She was a peasant, her parents both in service to the Princess Royal, Azrael’s mother. Cida was less of a friend now, as she’d taken up with Young Perry. I didn’t think she was all peasant either, something we’d had words over.

  After my attempted murder when Virginia was killed, Cida had spoken to me once, offering her sympathies and adding she hoped I was getting better. I pointed out her boyfriend was the prime suspect, which made her accessory to murder, so excuse me if I didn’t take her good wishes seriously. She tried to slap me, and said Perry would sue me if he heard I was spreading such vile rumours. I said to tell him to go ahead, and if she liked she could sue me too because I knew she was lying through her pointy little teeth.

  That was nine months previous and I’d not heard a peep more from either of them. To say I wasn’t fond of Cida was an understatement.

  “Stupid girl,” I said, circling, watching for the groin-blow.

  “Aye,” said Azrael, “I tried to explain about her hanging for what Young Perry had done but she wouldn’t budge. I could see she was lying. It wasn’t her idea to be out that early, it was his. He wanted to watch you die. But she’s so desperate to be with him she’ll take whatever he dishes out. Oh, and he’s not pure peasant on his mother’s side.” He shook his head, sounding sad. “It’s not like the Cida I knew, Polo. She was always so feisty. I don’t recognise her.” He feinted for my crotch, I blocked and he nearly caught me with a stab to the torso. I evaded, came back at him, and said through my teeth as we closed,

  “Not pure peasant? Young Perry? On Suzie’s side?”

  “Aye-” he was saying, then I forearmed him in the chest, “-bastard!” He shoved me backwards but was off-balance himself, missed an easy kill shot then paused to catch a breath. I panted too.

  “What’s the Half Aunt’s breeding then?” I said. Suzie wasn’t really a relation, but Azrael flattered her with the affectionate moniker.

  “Suzie’s grandfather was a bastard Sutherland,” Azrael said, “Sutherland crossed with the Westwych line is often mad-and-dangerous. She tried to hide it but the king’s researchers found out.” I curled my lip.

  “And them always making out Young Perry’s such a man of the people,” I said, “half peasant my arse!” I feinted and clipped Azrael at the inside of the top of the thigh. It would have caused death in seconds as he bled out through the femoral artery. He blocked some of the impact with his practice sword.

  “Damn you’re getting good,” he said, rubbing his forearm, “I felt that right back in my teeth.”

  ****

  Chapter 4 – Malion, Kingdom of Highcliff

  Azrael and I went for the Military Guild entrance exams, passed well, and in early February, 2979 - via a long coach trip - moved across Sendren and up the Sendren Pass onto the Malion Plateau. Suddenly we were residents of the Kingdom of Highcliff. In the year we would turn eighteen we entered the Military Guild together.

  The Royal City of Malion was even bigger than Peterhaven, but I barely had time to notice our surroundings before term started, then I was busy, forced to march about the place. Azrael was being forced to march too, but I had no sympathy, him being the person who got me into this.

  “But sarge,” I said, horrified at the fact it was still dark, “we’re cavalry!” The sergeant had no sympathy either, for anyone.

  “You walk now, Shawcross,” he said, spitting in my face, “so that when you’re an officer you remember how bloody horrible it is and you don’t force the men to do it often or at speed! Double-time, you vermin! Lift your bloody boots, Westwych A!”

  One of the sergeants told me later they were teaching us to walk, as a number of the young men didn’t walk straight. I was sure I was perfectly straight. After Aunt Kristen took my hip apart, with the help of physiotherapy I worked hard to get back to being straight in my walk. That didn’t get me out of marching.

  I always knew I didn’t want to join the army. If I had half a brain I might have guessed that going into the Military Guild wasn’t going to be pleasant. I remembered saying to Stefan, how bad could it be?

  Quite bad, it turned out. They made me camp out and run up mountains. Especially, they made us run and crawl in mud in the middle of the night. It was a favourite, though in daylight, something like heavy rain, sleet or snow, possibly mixed with mud, was also good, and they’d make us run up more mountains. It was high altitude, the Malion plateau, so the mountains around could be relied on to provide sudden cold weather and storms, even in summer. Extreme heat meant they’d strap packs on us and make us run up the mountains into the snowline.

  For the guild staff it seemed cadets being sleepless made the training better, and cadets going hungry were a pleasant bonus. Making us vomit up any food we’d been lucky enough to cook on our campfires was cause for celebration. It wasn’t in any form easy, often unpleasant to the point of painful, but I was big, fit and strong enough to cope.

  On our time off we would go to inns, or there was a standing invitation for officer cadets to go over the river to the evening’s entertainment at the Palace of Malion. Wearing my uniform, as required during term, I’d brood over the tragic loss of my romantic innocence - in what I imagined was a dashing way - while Miri danced with other men and while smoking heavily I pretended not to see her.

  I refused the attentions of men or women, and Miri rather sensibly ignored me. It was no fun and a complete waste of mindweed, so I stopped going. I suspected I was even a failure at teen angst.

  ****

  I thought I might take up drinking, again, instead I embraced teetotalism and the suffering of training. For the first time in my life I willingly went running every morning. I began reading about nihilism and martyrdom and wondered if pain was good for the soul, if we had souls. So it went on, until I was thinking about the meaning of life rather more than was healthy for a young man.

  Fenric and the other bodyguards rolled their eyes at me a lot, and even Azrael started saying I needed to get laid. I let my hair keep growing. I had to tie it back and club it up for serious training but it was my badge of rebellion. I wasn’t going to join their army so I didn’t have to cut my hair or conform more than I had to.

  The guild had its good points. When the sergeants were in the mood for backchat I enjoyed arguing with them. There was a fantastic library. The army wasn’t afraid of officers reading anything, no matter how pornographic, even books that showed how to revolt against the ruling class. It was funny, seeing they weren’t fond of us thinking for ourselves. I wondered if there were books with more than cryptic mentions of guns and bombs, but it seemed Dragon had been through and taken those. I checked with King Lewis, and he said that Dragon had removed the shuttle that was in Highcliff’s collection. Still, the guild library had plenty to interest me, as did the Malion Palace library.

  Among the fascinating collections were texts in Home languages, ones we’d lost the ability to speak, though there were people who could read them and Anglic translations that provided keys to the words. Reading the Anglic of the Yusaf compared to the Anglic of my day was almost like two different tongues, but with a bit of practice it wasn’t too bad and I became moderately fluent.

  It was in the guild library that I discovered the story of the boy-general Alexander who became the ruler of a world. I passed the book on to Azrael, who of course aspired to be a new Alexander and conquer all of Galaia.

  “O
nly I won’t weep, Polo,” he said, sounding excited, “as Alexander did for no more worlds to conquer, because with this world behind us we can get to the Delta Queen and conquer the Quadrants.” The Delta Queen was the Dragon tribe’s starship and thought to be still somewhere in orbit.

  “Conquer?” I said. “Or we could visit?” He grinned.

  Who knows what might have happened if I poured cold water on his ideas? Instead I took him seriously most of the time, arguing the parts I either didn’t agree with or didn’t think he could achieve in the way he was thinking of going.

  ****

  We cadets were accommodated in large dormitories, a taste of how the enlisted men lived. That was for first term, then we’d move into small apartments. More than half of us wouldn’t make it through that first term, failed by the guild or our own will, but Azrael and I, and people we knew from Peterhaven, like Indigo Sutherland and the heir to Gyr, Bailey Westwych, were doing well. I avoided Indigo, though we were expected to be civil to each other. Fortunately we were in different first year barracks, which meant our lessons were likewise separate.

  My Pesertine stallion, Magpie, settled well into the guild stables and loved our new life. Several visiting officers offered me coin for him, mad amounts like a hundred golds, but even if I wanted to sell him it would have been bad manners. He was a gift, so if unwanted – he wasn’t, I adored him - should go back to the king. However, it was quite within etiquette to let Magpie cover their Pesertine mares, something they were also happy to pay bags of gold for.

  Mother had badmouthed me to Grandmama, to the point where Saraia – Azrael’s mother - and the king had to write to Grandmama down in Cragleas to defend me, and tell her Mother was just making trouble. After that was cleared up, Grandmama Daeva began sending me an allowance again, despite me telling her I was getting a very generous income from my new duchy. I tried twice to say I was alright for coin, but she told me to humour an old woman who wanted to spoil her grandson, so I had to take it. I guessed at least part of her insistence was out of guilt at believing Mother’s word over mine. Of all people, Grandmama should have known better.