Coal exited the apothecary's shop. After his visit to the church he’d wandered the town for a while, thinking over everything the priest had said to him. He thought about the Mayor's announcement, he was still almost certain he knew what it was and equally sure he didn’t have a clue what it had to do with him. His mind was a blur with dreams for his future. The thought that he was the only one with dragon fire was the main theme in his whirlwind thoughts. He had a chance to do something really special. To be someone special. The only thing that had ever made him special before was his weakness.
Coal began heading towards the town square, where soon the Mayor would come and out and make his speech. There were plenty of townsfolk on the streets, dressed in their finest clothes. The men wore clean shirts and britches, boots polished until they shone. The women wore wide skirts in many colours and had their hair all done up in curls, many of the younger girls with flowers or ribbons woven through their locks, not a pinny or apron in sight.
In contrast Coal wore his usual drab tan clothing. He only had the one pair of britches, scuffed and tatty, much repaired. And now he was down to one shirt, since his second got soaked in his own blood. His brown leather boots were old and worn, crusted with mud from his herb gathering trip this morning, flecks of dirt had splashed up the legs of his trousers. The people he passed mostly ignored him, a few threw him dirty looks but he ignored these in return. He didn’t much care how he looked, in fact he did his best to ignore his appearance entirely.
Again, this had been different when his mother was around. She was always fussing with his hair or straightening his shirt, telling him when his clothes needed washing or mending, pestering in the delightfully cheery way only his mother could.They'd gone to church together each Sunday and she'd insisted he dress his best for it. Coal didn't understand his mother's faith. Their life had been hard, barely enough coin to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, but still she had worshipped God and Jesus and the Saints with fervour. Thanking the Lord earnestly for all the happiness he’d brought her and her son. And she was happy, always. She seemed to have this never ending cheer no matter the circumstances. Coal hadn't realised how much he relied on her light to hold him up until she was gone.
And he knew so little about her. She hadn't been born in Hever, he knew that. She spoke sometimes of her early life here, just arrived with a tiny baby to care for all alone. She never said it but he knew it must have been hard. People weren't accepting of single mothers. He didn't know who his father was either, just that he had died before Coal was born and that, apparently, he'd been a good man . He knew nothing much about his family at all, really.
He knew his grandfather had been a guard of some sort, his mother had spoken of him sometimes, a rare insight into her life before he came along. She'd never said it directly, but Coal thought he may have had a Link. She'd told him stories, when he was very young. Coal had had trouble sleeping when he was very small, his breathing had been bad and he'd had lots of trouble finding food he could keep down so he'd been kept awake with a stinging throat and a thumping headache. And so his mother told him stories. Mostly epic tales of Hunters battling terrifying monsters but also, very rarely, she would tell simpler tales. Of a strong, straight forward man. A man who had protected the walls of a city. A good man who put himself in front of danger to protect those he cared for. She'd never said what city it was but once she had let slip that this man was her father. He knew nothing about his own father's family, his mother would never speak on it and Coal didn't pester, that wasn't his way and besides that, the questions seemed to make her sad, even angry in a flat, disconsolate way and he couldn't stand that.
Deep down Coal had always assumed this life his mother led, this exile far away from all that was familiar and from anyone she ever knew, had to be his fault. That her journey here had only happened because she was burdened with a child of such obvious weakness. Some children might have been angry. Might have wept and torn at their hair or punched and broken things but that wasn't Coal either. He'd never been one for strong emotions of any kind. Perhaps his heart was too weak to muster up any real sadness or fury. Instead he just felt a dull ache at what he had taken from her. His mother was a beautiful woman, kind and smart and bright as a summer day. She could have led a wonderful life if not for him.
Coal wiped absently at a single tear by instinct, not consciously feeling it fall. The crowd had grown thicker, townsfolk pressed shoulder to shoulder as they bumped and jostled their way into the square. People called out good naturedly to each other, inquiring after so and so’s grandmother or confirming plans for after. The mayor's announcement was a big deal for the town, nothing much ever happened here, and many would take it as an excuse for a celebration of sorts. There would be drinking and dancing and many toasts to the mayor and his family, to Hever and its good townspeople. The Eighth, the only pub in town, would be packed tonight.
Coal tried to push his way to the edge of the crowd, somewhere he could duck down by a wall and be out of sight, but the crowd drew him in like one fish in a school of his brethren, being dragged in by a net. He gave up and let himself be pulled along, ending up near the front where he waited for the Mayor to make his appearance.
The ‘stage’ the crowd were fixated on was really an executioner's platform. Though no one had been truly executed there in Coals lifetime, he'd seen a few whippings. He would as soon have skipped these but attendance was mandatory and he couldn't afford to end up on the platform himself, as he was even a few lashes could have killed him. It was a stout, wooden contraption, made of thick solid logs held up 6 feet or so above the ground by wooden supports. There was a post in the middle where the condemned would be secured for punishment.
But today someone had set up a lectern at the front of the platform and placed a row of chairs to either side and a little behind this. As Coal looked over these the crowd began to hush around him, people whispering to each other excitedly.
A man stepped on to the platform, wearing metal studded leather armour, a sword at his hip and a shield slung across his back. He wore a helmet with a nose guard but still Coal recognized him, with his neatly trimmed blond beard and stoic, expressionless face. This man had been present at the whippings each time Coal had been forced to watch them. He was the Captain of the guard in Hever, though Coal had only ever heard of him referred to by this title and didn't know his proper name. The Captain strode across the stage, scanning the crowd, and came to a stop a step back from the lectern. He gave one more, slow scan of the crowd and then turned and gave a nod towards the rear of the stage.
And then the Mayor appeared. Portly and jovial, he wore a rich jerkin of dark red and blue wool and wore his standard chain of coins around his neck, the sign of his office. He seemed to bounce as he stepped up on to the stage, waving behind him down the stairs in a come along gesture. Coal thought the Mayor was probably a good man, though the few times he'd heard him speak he'd also seemed a little absent minded, as if he wasn't all there. Behind the Mayor trailed his family.
First in line was his wife, tall and striking though dour and with a severe pinch to her cheeks. She had platinum blonde hair and walked with her head high, wearing a long dress with more oomph to the skirts than the woman of the town, as if they were stuffed with something or just layered in so much cloth Coal wasn't sure how she didn't trip. Coal didn't know anything about dresses, or fashion of any kind, but he guessed this outfit was dreadfully expensive. She also wore a jewelled necklace around her neck and matching dangly earrings, gold with red gems. The women in the crowd oohed appreciatively at her arrival but she just sniffed and took her seat.
Next came the Mayor's children. His son first, wearing a smart green suit with a distinctly military cut. High waisted jacket with lapels over a stiff waistcoat and crisp white shirt, green trousers tucked into smart brown riding boots. His only jewellery was a chain dangling from his waistcoat, presumably a pocket watch. He had blonde hair though today it had a rosy sheen Coal couldn't remember from the last time he'd seen him, cut short and neatly combed. He was clean shaven and held himself straight. He had a serious expression on his face though it fell short for Coal. To him, he looked like a boy let into his father's business for the first time, trying too hard to seem like he belonged there.
Next along came the Mayor's daughter. She was dressed like her mother, in a foofy dress with a tight bodice, though her skirts looked less stuffed than her mother's had. She also wore less jewellery, wearing only a simple gold chain that dangled between her…. Coal snapped his eyes up, blushing deeply and feeling the fool for his reaction. He looked at her face instead and was startled to see the girl was looking directly at him. And giving him a fierce scowl.
Blushing even harder, Coal looked away from those fierce eyes quickly, shuffling his feet and shrugging his shoulders, hoping to disappear in the crowd and escape the girl's burning admonishment. Then he heard the Mayor begin to speak and slowly raised his eyes.
“Good people of Hever,” the Mayor said. He had a strong, hearty voice. He looked and sounded more like a friendly baker than a stern mayor. “I am so grateful that you have all come out today, to celebrate with me, your dutiful mayor. As many of you know, for many months I have been searching for something very special, as a gift for my beautiful children.” The mayor gestured grandly to his left where his son and daughter sat next to their mother. His son sat bolt upright and nodded so stiffly at his father's gesture Coal could've sworn he heard the poor boy's neck creek. The girl was sitting primly, back straight and hands folded neatly in her lap. A curl of blonde hair fell from her elaborate bun and she tucked it behind one ear with a delicate gesture and nodded demurely at her father. She had strong cheekbones and long lashes encircling dark eyes and….. and she was still staring daggers directly at Coal.
Coal actually winced as their eyes met and looked quickly back at his shoes.
“And today I am happy to tell you I found it. Yesterday, the brave Hunters of Hever rode out on a hunt. A very special hunt for a very special beast”. The mayor winked good naturedly at the crowd and they began to whisper frantically. All around Coal, people jostled and speculated. Everyone knew what their Mayor had been looking for.
Getting into his tale now, now that the crowd were so obviously enthralled, the Mayor lent his elbows on the lectern and looked about himself conspiratorially, like a young boy about to tell something he thought was both very secret and very important, “you see, a few months back I put out a bounty. I wanted the strongest monster that could be found. Something fierce and powerful that I could use to grant my children Links.” The mayor waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
This much, at least, was general knowledge. Everyone in town had been talking about the bounty so even Coal had overheard enough to know all about it. The next part though, Coal was pretty sure he knew what monster the Hunters had ended up finding for the Mayor.
“And then, just a few days ago,” the mayor continued, “ a man came to town. A tinkerer and peddler. A wanderer you know. He came to our fine town and went to the inn, good old Henry the Eighths to rest his weary legs and quench his hard won thirst.” He was really getting into it now, waving his hands as he spoke and switching back and forth between leaning on one elbow then the next, “this man, once his thirst was sated and he'd had his fill of Mary's fine stew, told a tale of danger and woe. In the hills south of here he'd made camp, he said. He'd set up his simple tent and set his bag to the side to make a fire. He'd strung a pot above the fire to cook his meal and was resting as it simmered, leaning back on his elbows and with his eyes near closed,” the Mayor sighed, as if relaxing after a long hard day. Then he clapped his hands together, “bam, just like that the man was thrown to the side by an explosion.” The crowd gasped and startled at the Mayor's showmanship.
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And Coal was riveted, he'd never known the Mayor could spin such a fine yarn.
“Struggling to his feet the man coughed and spewed as his once lovely camp was filled with harsh, crackly smoke. He struggled, falling to his knees and coughing. He began to drag himself on hands and knees, not knowing where he went or even if it was away from, or towards the danger,” the crowd lent forward collectively, caught up by the Mayor's story. “But still he pushed on, pulling himself along the ground. Eventually he cleared the smoke and was able to struggle mightily to his feet. He ran for all he was worth, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, expecting at any moment to be pounced on and devoured.
“Eventually the man had to stop running, exhausted and wheezing he fell to his knees and struggled to regain his breath, to keep fleeing. He turned to look back. He'd made it to the bottom of the hill and broken free of the tree line by now you see. He sat panting and looked back to see the crown of the hill engulfed in flames,” the Mayor stared up at the sky as if in awed horror at what he saw. Coal could see it too, in his mind. The trees burning and cracking, falling amidst the flames and sending up plumes of smoke. All the black smoke twisting and rising into the sky, carrying spiteful little red sparks to spread and consume.
“As the man watched the burning hill,” the Mayor continued quietly, “he saw a shadow rise from the flames and spread its wings,” the Mayor spread his arms wide. “Huge and black, the terrifying beast hovered over the destruction and blew a massive plume of red flame into the sky as it roared.”
The crowd oohed. Coal had heard of the dragon in the hills, like the Mayor's bounty it had been big news in the town. Contrary to the Mayor's story, Coal had heard it was small and young. Unlike some other dragons, black dragons were not known for their power but instead for their intelligence and guile. From what he'd read, most Blacks hid when they were young, sleeping and feeding until they could grow strong enough to be a proper threat. He wasn't sure why this one had behaved differently.
“Upon hearing this tale of terror and danger,” the Mayor went on, “the brave Hunters of our fine town strode out, uh bravely, to face this terrible terror!” Clearly, whatever planning he'd put into his speech hadn't reached this far. “These brave men and women rode out on their mighty steeds. Armed and armoured they rode to the site the man had described. They found what was once a small farm, now hardly more than ashes and dust. They searched vainly through the destruction but found none who had survived the onslaught, save the brave traveller who made it to our very doors.” The Mayor hung his head.
“Still they knew what must be done. It is a Hunter's duty to stand against the darkness in this world and never cringe away. They set about preparing their field of battle, moving the leftover pieces of what was once a quaint farm to the side, knowing they'd need sure footing if they were to prevail. As darkness fell they made their final preparations and said their prayers, gathering in a line and raising their weapons to ward off the night. They stood shoulder to shoulder, firm and unyielding.”
Coal doubted this part was true at all. When facing a dragon it would be beyond foolish to scrunch up like that, one good blast could end them all. Still, it made for a good story and Coal understood the difference between that and real life.
“As true night fell the dragon appeared.” The crowd fell deathly silent, imagining watching a dragon rise from the ground before them, the wind gusting in their face as it thrust its wings to soar over them. “It flew swiftly over the trees, silent and near invisible with its black scales against the night sky. But Hunter's eyes are sharp and they spotted it in time to make ready.
“Those with shields stepped forward to raise their bulwarks. The archers and gunners stepped back and raised their weapons to draw down on the monster. Men and women with axes and swords raised them high and roared as the beast flew forward,” the mayor raised his arm and thrust an imaginary sword proudly in the air. “Then the dragon slammed into the Hunters with its claws outstretched and fire cuddling in its throat.
“The battle was long and hard. Hunters were struck by fang and claw, but struck back with axe and sword. They were burned by fire but threw metal and wood and their own magics back into the teeth of the beast. Eventually, as the sun was about to rise, the final blow was struck and the dragon's head fell from its body.”
The crowd cheered, though again Coal doubted this was true. He was starting to get annoyed with the mayor's retelling of the Hunters' deeds. A dragon's scales were incredibly thick and tough, you'd need a mighty blow indeed to cut one's head off. Instead you killed them by targeting the weak points, the armpits and underbelly, the mouth and eyes. It made for a grand tale, he supposed, but it was also, when you got right down to it, a lie. Just a stupid lie and it was making Coal angry.
The crowd continued to cheer and holler around him as Coal scowled up at the stage. He caught the Mayor's daughter's eyes again and scowled right back when he noticed she was still looking at him. She huffed a single oh of surprise.
The Mayor patted the air and nodded good naturedly at his over enthusiastic audience. As they quieted he began speaking again, “and so, the dragon was brought here.” This sentence hit Coal suddenly and he knew for a fact it wasn't true. None of the Mayor's story was. Coal knew that the dragon had flown here itself, it had flown directly over him in fact. What were the chances a second injured dragon had been in the area at the same time. As Coal mused he realised the Mayor had kept talking and he was missing it.
“....... Struggled heartily and, with his great magics and clever sciences, prepared the ritual.” The Mayor was gesturing at a man seated to his right, someone Coal didn't recognize. He was dressed in a long, off-white coat with rusty stains down it and had on a pair of wire spectacles with small round lenses perched on the tip of his nose. He was balding and seemed to be squinting around himself, as if studying every inch of everything he could find. He didn't seem to notice the Mayor including him in his speech.
“And so,” the Mayor held his arms wide grandly, as if presenting a great gift to the townspeople. “I present to you, my son George and daughter Elizabeth,” the mayor turned and included his children in his grand gesture. They rose to their feet and stepped forward, “your new dragon linked!”
The crowd began to cheer madly, clapping and screaming. Stamping their feet and waving their arms. Amidst all this chaos Coal stood and looked up to the sky. Dragon linked. Like the stories. Like me.
He smiled softly to himself as he raised his face to the sun. It was still amazing to him, he supposed it likely always would be. He was linked. Not just that, he had an incredibly powerful link. Not just a dragon link but dragon fire, something apparently nobody else had. He had a real future ahead of him. He would go on adventures.
But it was more than that. He'd have the simple pleasures he'd never experienced before. He could eat real meat, red and juicy. He could try alcohol now, he'd never dared before, fearing it would make him sick and he'd do himself a mischief, but he could now. He could go out and be amongst people, just be a regular normal person, maybe even make a friend.
He realised he'd already begun to take his new strength for granted. Even just standing in this crowd was something he'd never have been able to do before. Forget the jostling and bumping of his neighbours, the chance of being knocked down and injured, even just standing for this length of time would have pushed him to his limits before.
Coal shrugged. He needed to become used to it. If he was going to be a Hunter he would have to do much harder things than stay upright for half an hour.
“...... will be a blessing for all of us. A few years from now my children will return to us, freshly graduated students of the King's College. They will bring new knowledge and riches from their travels. Your own children will grow up in a better, richer Hever.” The Mayor smiled graciously as he wrapped up, “thank you again for coming out to hear my wonderful news. It's a fine thing to see you all here, bright and cheery, the good men and women of Hever, and it does my heart a gladness to know we will all prosper together in the future,” he nodded and gave a fatherly smile.
The crowd cheered and clapped again, not as loud as before but it went on a long time. The Mayor was generally liked and they were happy for him. And he was right that graduates from the famed Kings College of London could do great things for the town. Still Coal heard none of it, had heard nothing ever since the Mayor had spoken those words.
Students of the King's College. He's sending them to London. And… and that's what Priest Thomas wanted me to hear. What he thought I'd get from coming to this speech. He thinks I should go. That I should enrol at the King's College. Zac was totally in awe of the idea and smiled, marvelling at the incredible future he could now envision as the crowd dispersed, chatting amidst themselves like excited birds, trailing in clumps down the streets until he stood alone in front of the wide wooden stage.
Lost again in the recesses of his imagination.
Thomas sat on the sloped roof of the church and listened to the cheering in the distance. He hadn't bothered attending the speech himself, though that other priest had gone. He knew well enough what the man was going to say. His children had been pumped full of dragon and were being trundled off to London, to get an education and one day return with fame and fortune to enrich the town. Thomas thought it more than likely that at least one of the children would never return, once they got a look at what the wider world had to offer.
He didn't care much either way, his job here in town was almost done and it didn't have a thing to do with either of those snot nosed, snobby rich kids. He'd been in Hever for almost five years now, biding his time and carrying his silent burden. He'd read his books and drunk at the pub, giving just as few sermons as he could get away with.
It wasn't that he minded being a priest, especially. Actually, and much to his surprise, he found he rather liked it. He had always liked giving people advice. And he'd often affected a knowing, world weary air, even as a teenager. He felt he knew best what people should do and didn't mind telling them so. He wasn't as good at the whole ‘admonishment’ part of the job. He carried more than a few sins himself and wasn't altogether sure he was that sorry for them, or that he’d avoid them in the future.
But still, he wouldn't be missing Hever once he was clear of the place. The soggy buildings and stodgy people. There was no art here and little to no entertainment. The beer was warm and the women were cold. He'd be more than happy to be back in London with its crowds and massive taverns full of hollering people, its soaring bridges and tall towers. He'd even put up with the never ending politics if he could just get a decent pint. Hell, he'd even put up with his god awful family if he could only….
Well, no, let's not go that far. One good thing about being so far from proper civilisation was a complete and total absence of his family. No cousins and nephews and nieces jostling for position and favour. No aunts and uncles with their snide comments and spiteful schemes. And no Father. That absence he would miss most of all. If he was to return to London he would have to announce himself to his father.
Shaking his head, Thomas threw off those thoughts. There was no point worrying about it. He was holding a wooden box in his hands which he set down so he could retrieve his pipe and pouch. The box was old and worn, cheap and with gaps where the lid met the rest of the box. It rattled as he set it down. He filled and tapped down his pipe, lighting a match and puffing away to get it lit. Still his eyes kept flicking to this box and as soon as the pipe was glowing merrily he picked it back up.
He flipped the lid and studied the contents.
“Won't be needing you anymore I guess,” he said to the box's contents. He shook the box a little as he spoke and the contents rattled again, “seems kind of a shame, after carrying you for so long.” He sighed. He set the box back down on the roof. His hand raised unbidden, to feel out a ridge in his chest over his sternum, tracing the shape of a triangle through his tatty priest's robe.
“Still though, to think the boy would get a dragon link,” he continued in a soft voice, looking out over the town. Out to where the crowd had been hollering from, to where the boy stood even now, lost in his thoughts. “Really something.” He smiled viciously, “they're not gonna know what hit ‘em.”
The scruffy priest stood and brushed himself off. He walked down the slope of the roof and stepped straight off, falling the more than three stories to the ground below.
Behind him, left behind in a crook between tiles, forgotten and now useless to him, was the cheap wooden box. Its lid still open, inside were two pieces of bone. One thick and triangular, about the size of a box of matches. The other was small and webbed, more like cartilage than true bone, and shaped like a tiny harp.