Chapter 7: You’ll Save Me

It was late when Saoirse trudged down the turret stairs.

Nana busied herself setting out Saoirse's evening meal. “Must have gone well today. You spent the entire afternoon with Seer Murtagh.”

Saoirse sat, staring at her hands folded in her lap.

“Go on, lass. Tell me what happened.”

Another child looking up at Nana would have seen Nana's expectant, cheerful face, but Saoirse saw only Nana's aura grayed with worry. “Nana, do dragons eat magical people like me?”

Nana sitting across from the child, reached out to touch her cheek. “What did that evil man tell you?”

So softly that Nana often had to bend forward to hear her words, Saoirse repeated the tale of Seer Blackwell. Indeed, Murtagh would have been amazed at the details she remembered—“ and the village had a river running through it shaped like a big “S” with two groups of houses in the two parts of the “S,” the upper curvy part, and the lower curvy part. And there was a bridge so the people could visit each other.” She told Nana how Aron sailed around the world, searching for a land without dragons. “He went to a place that was only snow, and dragons were everywhere.” And she told Nana how he was betrayed. “It was the Baker. He only pretended to be a friend. I didn't like that Baker.” As she  finished the story she said, “and the dragon king burned down the village, and everyone, even Aron, died.” She raised her eyes staring intently at Nana's aura. “Nana, do dragons really eat people?”

She's watching my aura. I dare not lie.

“Yes, lass. But many people think that the dragons are dead.”

Saoirse ran around the small table and threw herself into Nana's arms. “I don't want to get eaten.”

“Ah, child.” Nana's arms closed around Saoirse, squeezing the child until her old shoulders ached.

Saoirse breathed in the scent of Nana, who always smelled just a bit like the sprigs of lavender she kept in the left-hand pocket of her apron. Saoirse laid her cheek on the soft linen of Nana's bodice. She wrapped her arms around Nana's old, squishy body.

“If a dragon comes,” Saoirse whispered, “will I have to walk into its mouth?”

“Child, if a dragon comes, you and I will run. I know a secret way out of the castle.”

“You do?” Saoirse leaned back and saw the truth of Nana's words in her fierce aura now gone violet with love and loyalty.

“Aye, lass. I do.”

Again, Saoirse leaned into Nana, soaking in comfort. “You'll save me, I know you will, like Brian saved Aron.”When the lamps were lit and Saoirse was at last asleep, Nana climbed the turret stairs and knocked on Murtagh's door. He opened it but a crack.

In Nana's eyes was not a smidgen of warmth. “So, if everyone died, how do we know that the tale of Seer Blackwell is true.”

When Murtagh spoke, his words were contorted by a yawn. “Before he left to kill the beast, he visited the home of his last living sister. He healed her, taking the pain from her knees and the cataracts from her eyes. It is even said that he had become so skilled that he made her young again. They sat for hours, talking and laughing and remembering the days before Brian died. When it was time for Aron to leave, he said only that he was going to kill the beast.”

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“Perhaps he failed.”

“Not according to the sister. When the beast was dead, with the last of his magic, he whispered back to her on the wind. He told her that he had killed the dragon.”

Nana threw her hands into the air. “But not how! He didn't say how!”

“No.”

“Are you sure this tale is true?”

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders. “The tale was told to the guild by the sister. Even at the time, the Guild Master wrote that the sister could have been lying. After all, no one even knew that Aron was magic. The Guild Master had never heard of this mysterious traveling seer. Though he had heard that a dragon had been killed by the dragon king, and the woman reporting to be the sister was quite young.” Murtagh tried to shut the door, but Nana's foot got in the way.

“But the village, was it destroyed?”

“Whether the guild verified that detail is not recorded.” Again, he tried to shut the door.

“Not recorded!” she yelled in a whisper. “That's all you've got?”

“It was two thousand years ago. Yes, that's all I've got. Why are you so interested?”

A thousand thoughts flashed through Nana's mind. Had she revealed too much or aroused his suspicions?

What to do? What to do?

As Murtagh's expression grew ever less sleepy and ever more curious, she rushed to speak, “I thought Saoirse would learn to read and write, and you have filled her head with tales of people dying! Better stories, do you understand?” She wagged her finger in his face. “And teach her to read!” Turning, she stomped down the stairs, trying not to appear to be hurrying.

 

 

 

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