"Clan of the Owl 1" by A. Setliffe

Plague

The sharp, early autumn night was brightly lit by the full moons.  Anedar, the large, red moon was setting, but Shan and Lau, the distant silvery twins, had just reached their zenith.
            A horseman rode slowly along a forest path lined on both sides by ruined dry-stack walls covered with mosses and ferns.  Twisted roots pushed their way up under the stones, patiently reclaiming the lost ground.
            Silver light from the pale twins filtered down through the canopy and dappled the path with gently swaying shadows.  Every now and then, the breeze would strengthen, carrying with it the musty scent of coming woodland winter and a few dead leaves to be crushed under the hooves of the grizzled buckskin mare.  Besides her rhythmic tramping, the only sounds were the shifting leaves and the occasional airy call of an owl.
            To a passer by, had there chanced any, the rider would have seemed much like a shadow mounted on a pale horse. Well-kempt dark blue clothing and a face the color of coffee swallowed what light fell on him. Only the silver strands in his short, black, wooly hair, and the whites of his dark eyes seemed to catch the moonlight.  His gaze fell blankly on the road before him, lost in weariness or in thought.
            Eventually, a yellow light through the dim trees caught his attention, but the sight brought no gleam of pleasure to his face. It was not long before he reached his destination, a small, unassuming cabin, and carefully dismounted. With a practiced hand he looped the reins of his horse through the hitching post and rapped on the hardwood door.  He was answered by a woman with skin the color of pale sand and brown eyes.  She was quickly tying back a braid in her long, graying auburn hair.      
            ”Healer!  Thank you for coming so quickly!  Please come in.”
            She stepped back and he ducked through the low doorway.  The room beyond was rustic and filled with the smell of resinous pine burning in the hearth.  At the draft from the open door the flames flickered and made shadows twist and dance on the furniture.
            “How is she?” asked the man.
            “No better.”  The woman shook her head, her expression pained.
            She led her guest into the other room where stood a wooden bed and a chair pulled close beside it.  In the bed lay a girl of about five years. She looked like an infant version of the woman, but her cheeks were flushed and sweat dampened her round face.  The dark man set his gray woolen satchel on the chair and stepped up to the bed, brushing the warm wet cloth, which had doubtless been cold when it was laid on the child’s forehead, away.  He placed his hand on her brow, then, almost from habit, he checked her pulse and listened to her ragged breathing.  Anger filled him.  The disease was everywhere, but it struck children hardest.  Adults, even the elderly, usually recovered quickly, but the children were dying and even those who survived were much weakened and defenseless against less virulent infections.
            “I will do what I can, Ms. Obera.”
             “Please, Healer, call me Aelina.” The woman seemed uncomfortable beneath his distant gaze.
            “Only if you will call me Harry.”
            “Very well, Harry.  What do you need me to do?
            “We must lower her fever.  Has she been asleep long?”
            “About an hour.”
            Harry hissed under his breath.  “I hate to wake her, but we have no choice.  Do you have a well nearby?”
            “Yes.”
            “Good.  Prepare a cold bath as quickly as you can.”
            She looked at him a moment in consternation, but as his expression did not change she simply nodded and rushed to obey. She could see that the fever was draining the life out of her child.  Once she was gone, Harry laid his hand on the girl’s head.  Concentration furrowed his brow as swirls of burnished gold snaked over his dark skin. He whispered something under his breath. The gold faded as quickly as it had appeared and the child groaned, rolled over and fixed her gaze on Harry. One of his eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of her green-blue eyes, so much colder than that of her mother. Her father must have had Sallendian blood, he thought.
            “Who’re you?” she asked, her voice husky with labored breath.
            “My name is Harry.  I’m a healer.”
            “Good.  That will comfort Mama.  She’s frightened, you know.”  It was clear from the child’s voice she too was afraid.
            “Yes, I know.  What’s your name?”
            “Heather.  I thought you were an elf… but you’re not. What are you?”  Harry smirked.  “I’m as human as you are, young Heather.”
            “Why’s your skin so dark?  Were you burned?”
            “No.  I was born like this. My people are dark skinned.  Heather, we’re going to give you a cold bath to lower your fever.”
            She scrunched up her face in response.  “I won’t like that.”
            “Well you are going to take it regardless.  It ‘ll make your mama happier.”
            She gave a self-sacrificial sigh.  “I will then.”
            “Good.  Let’s get you ready.”
            “Healer, am I going to die?”
            “Of course, everyone dies, but you will die a gray-haired old crone if I have any say in the matter.” His mind echoed “everyone dies” but he chose to ignore it.
            As soon as Aelina had filled her large cauldron, Harry had Heather undressed and swathed in a blanket. He carried her over to the tub and set her gently in the cool water.  After a short time he directed Aelina to towel the child dry and return her to bed. He watched over Heather for an hour, though he had little hope of her improvement.  Not even his spells could do much to change the outcome of this plague, and it made him angry.
            When he came back into the main room he was carrying his bag and adjusting his coat in preparation to face the chill in the air on the ride home, but he stopped to hand Aelina a small cloth pouch.
            “Mix this powder in some warm water and make her drink half a teacup full every twelve hours.  It should help with the fever and the nausea.  Make her drink as much water as you can, though boil it first and then let it cool. Keep her warm when she chills and cool when she burns.  Good night.”  With that he turned toward the door, but Aelina put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.
            “Have you others to see tonight?” she asked.
            “No.  But I must make an early start tomorrow.”
            “Well you can at least stay for dinner.  I hear that you have no wife, nor indeed any family, at least not here.  I would be ashamed if I let you go off home, exhausted as you are, without a good supper in you.  Now take off your coat and sit down.”
            Harry was a little taken aback, but he smiled and, setting down his bag, began to take off his coat.
            “It’s very kind of you,” he said as he sat down at the place already set for him at the table.
             “No more than you giving up sleep and running about for all of us, and certainly easier. After all, you’re still new here and have no obligation to us.” She smiled, though sadly, and brought him a plate of rabbit stew, cooked apples and a slice of warm, soft bread.  Then she gave him some boiled water and after getting the same for herself she sat down opposite him. 
            “I have a human obligation. We all do, though some choose to forget it.”
            Aelina looked down at her plate. “I hear your people are all magi, you must be powerful folk,” she said, after a long silence.
            Harry laughed a little, then shook his head.  “Not really. Wizards, especially, are a rarity in my homeland.”
            “Hmm?  Then where abouts do you come from?  There are tales of folk who look as you do, but I have never seen one. Yours must be a shy people.”
            “No, we just live far from here and few of us ever travel so far from home.”  Harry heard the odd note in his own voice that always seemed to creep in when he thought of his birthplace. He was thankful to his hostess for not pursuing the matter farther. She turned the conversation to more neutral topics. After dinner, Aelina began brewing some tea and she bade him sit down by the fire and have a cup before he left.
            Before the hearth Harry found two chairs and an impulse drew him towards the one that stood to the right of the fire.  With a contented outlet of breath, he sat down, easing his saddle-weary back against the cushions. There was something tickling his senses, though, keeping him from relaxing onto a comfortable post-dinner stupor.  He blinked once or twice, then sat up and looked hard at the chair sitting opposite him. His eyes widened.
            There was a simple spell woven about it, an illusion that pushed the viewer’s eyes from it, made it small in importance, but his gaze had fallen directly on it and once focused he could not be fooled.  It was a large, tall-backed armchair made of rich, dark wood intricately carved and studded here and there with translucent, red gems.  On the head of the chair was a detailed carving of a perched owl cut deep into the wood and set with two red stones for eyes. The chair’s arms were crafted to appear as half spread wings with every feather shown in perfect detail and of the legs that supported all, the front two were talons, one of which was clasping a large red stone.  The cushions matched the red of the bird’s eyes and were rich velvet embroidered with silver.
            Harry stood and gently laid his hand on the chair’s back marveling not only at the craftsmanship, but also at the subtlety of the enchantment that protected it, hiding it in plain sight. He felt a tremor run through his hand as he ran his fingers over the wood.
            “Karaffell?” he said under his breath.
            Aelina looked up at him, rather startled he thought, forced a smile and said, “It was a gift to one of my ancestors from a fine lord.  My family was once very great indeed, or so I was told as a child.  …We have fallen far since then, I suppose, as many have through the wars.  It’s so pretty that I can’t bring myself to sell it, even though I never use it and I am sure it would be worth more than all else I own.”
            That it would be, he thought, but he did not voice. Reluctantly, Harry removed his hand from the red chair and sat down in the plain armchair at the other side of the hearth. He had to concentrate to keep his eyes from straying back to the carved owl.  There was something more to the story, but whether she did not know any more, or had reason not to tell, he could not be sure.  Either way it was not his place to ask her.  Perhaps Karren would know.  Harry had never heard of Karaffell making anything as large as this, at least not above ground.  He smiled to himself.  This was the first time he had heard the smith referred to as a man, much less a lord.  She would laugh, he thought.
            Aelina pulled a chair from the table over to the fire and handed her guest a cup of spiced tea.  They sipped for a time in silence until Aelina set her cup down on the floor and fixed her eyes on the healer’s face.
            “Will she get well, Harry?”
            The healer sipped his tea, not meeting her gaze “She’s a strong child and has more of a chance than many.”
            “But you haven’t much hope.”
            “I don’t have time for hope. I do what I can, and the rest comes as it will. “
            She sighed and shifted her eyes from his face to the fire.  “If she dies then... She’s all I have left of my family.  She...is my brother’s daughter. I never had a child of my own. When he died, she was brought to me.  Heather’s all I have left of him.”  Aelina was fighting to keep back her tears, but losing badly. Harry rose from his chair, came over to her and took her hand.
            “I will do everything I can.”
            “I know.”
            Harry paused and smiled. “I thought she was your daughter when I saw her.  She looks like you.”
             “She looks more like her father with her freckles and her sharp nose, but her eyes… those are not from our family. They must have come from her mother’s blood.” Aelina was almost smiling.
            Harry straightened and moved to pull on his coat.
            “I’ll return as soon as I can tomorrow.  I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality.” 
            She wiped away her tears then stood to face him.
            He looked at her and his hard, dark eyes softened until their expression was almost gentle.  “Take heart, mistress.  There is hope yet.”
            She smiled.  “I thought you had no time for hope.”
            An answering smile barely curved his lips. “I don’t, but you must.  Pray. I know I will.” He took a deep breath and released it. “Good night. See that you get some rest for yourself.” With that he caught up his medical bag and left the house.
            Once outside he looked up into the stars and blinked.  “Karren, what did we do to deserve this?”  As if in answer, the wind rose to shake the trees violently for a moment before it returned to chasing the falling leaves.  Harry shook his head ruefully and turned to his horse.  “Well, Agrimony, my old veteran, shall we head home? I think you’ve earned a warm stable and extra rations.”  The old mare whickered as he swung up into the saddle. She then turned her head, without his touch, for home.

Tea and Dragons

Outside the cabin, snow was drifting down through the trees, adding to the layers already thick upon the frozen ground.  All the world sparkled gold under the light of the great red moon.  Inside the cabin lay Heather, nestled in the owl chair like a dwarf sheltering in some gem-encrusted cavern.   A pair of soft leather boots sat by an empty bowl in front of the fire.
            Her eyes snapped open as she heard her “mother’s” foot scrape on the doorstep.  As the door opened, the girl sprang to her feet and, trying not to slip on the smoothly polished floor, she dashed into Aelina’s open arm.  The woman’s other arm was holding something the little girl could not see under her cloak; Heather hoped it was a present.
            “Hello, Owlet!”  Aelina said as she shut the door.
            “Hello, Mama!  Did Laeta’s baby come?”
            “Yes, dear.  Both she and the baby are fine.”
            “What’s that under your cloak?”
            “I ‘ll show you in a moment, but first I need you to fetch me some snow in a bowl. Put on your boots first.”
            Perplexed, Heather pulled on her boots and ran to obey.  What could she want with snow?  She thought. Is she going to make syrup candy this late at night?
            When she came back in carrying the bowl filled with cold whiteness, the midwife had a kettle of water heating over the fire.  Heather set the bowl down on the table and her eyes fell on something small wrapped in a cloth at the other end.  That must be what she had in her cloak, she thought as she moved her hand toward it.
             “Don’t touch it!” said her aunt, without looking around.  Heather jerked her hand back.
            “What is it?”
            “I don’t know.” Aelina poured the boiling water into another bowl and then added handfuls of snow until it was warm but not scalding.  Then she gingerly unwrapped the piece of cloth to reveal a small lizard-like creature, lying still as death.  She laid the limp form in the bowl, its body immersed, but its head resting safely on the rim.  “I found it in the road.  It’s half frozen, poor beast.”
            The animal was little more than six inches long and covered in blue-black scales.  It had two membranous wings, similar to those of a bat, four legs ending in talons, and a row of dull horns running along its spine from blunt nose to tail tip.
            “Will it bite?” asked Heather.
             “It has teeth, but no fangs, so it isn’t poisonous, at least, but I want you t’ stay back from it.”
            In a short time, the small animal began to stir until it opened its pale blue, catlike eyes. Once it came to itself it sprang to its feet, splashing water from the bowl, and hid behind the kettle.  After jumping with fright, both Aelina and Heather burst out laughing.
            As the water on its scales cooled, the dragonet huddled down and it yielded to Aelina, who picked it up gingerly in a towel. She carried it over to the fire and laid it in a basket.  Then, telling Heather to keep an eye on it, but “not to touch,” she prepared a mixture of foods.  After placing the tidbits and a saucer of water before it she took Heather into her lap and they watched together.
            The animal looked warily from the food to the giants that sat nearby. For some time it remained motionless, but for the flicker of its eyes. Eventually, however, its hunger drove it into action.
            “Mama,” said Heather, eyes fixed on the animal eating daintily at some pickled fish. “Can we keep it?”
             “Perhaps.  But first I want to find out what it is.  It could be valuable.  It looks like a lizard of some kind, but its legs are placed wrong, and the wings… I wonder if it can fly?”
            “Legs placed wrong?”
            “Lizards have legs placed out beside their bodies, while this thing has them placed under it, like a dog or a horse.”
            “Oh.  Harry will know what it is.  He knows every thing about things. It looks like a dragon. Do you think it could be a baby dragon?”
            Aelina smiled.  “Dragons are very large. I don’t believe they could ever start out this small. I will ask Harry when he comes back, but that won’t be for some time yet.  He told the elders he’d be gone for at least eight months.”
            “Maybe it’s a very old dragon. Do dragons shrink when they get old like some people do?”
            “I don’t think so, Owlet. And even if they did, dragons are supposed to be as big as this house, or bigger. Nothing could shrink that much no matter how old it got.”
            By this time, the little creature was cuddling contentedly down in its towel.  The plate was empty except for some cracked nuts, which were pushed neatly to the side.  Aelina raised an eyebrow.
            “Well, at least it has a healthy appetite.”  She stood up and set the little girl gently on the floor. After putting a lid on the basket for the night she stretched and turned to her niece.  “It’s time to put you to bed.”

The next morning, after breakfast, Aelina was cleaning up the dishes when she heard a strange slurping noise on the table behind her.  When she turned she saw the her new pet draped over the edge of Heather’s cold cup of bitter dandelion tea, drinking noisily.  She paused in her work, staring, then a laugh welled up in her and she soon found herself struggling for breath against her own amusement.  Once able, she called Heather to her and they agreed that no other name would do for it but Dandelion. After all, it could not be a coincidence that the creature had such a fondness for the tea Heather hated.

At first the cold kept Dandelion from leaving the house, and though it would often disappear, Aelina and her niece could always lure it out of hiding with food and a place to sleep by the fire. It did not take long, however, for the dragonet to prefer the warmth of curling up with the humans, drawn, perhaps by the feel of their heartbeats, the comfort of being close to another living thing.

By the time winter was reaching its end, Dandelion had become practically inseparable from Heather. It road about on her head or shoulder, or in a pocket, watched everything she did and eventually began to parrot the sounds she made.  Before long, it even began to rasp whole, though slightly distorted, words.
            One morning Heather awoke to see Dandelion sitting patiently on the pillow next to her head. This had become a habit with the little creature. Every day, when Heather opened her eyes, the dragonet would bow its head and hiss “fisssssh,” its favorite food, in hopes that she would get up and give it breakfast. This morning was slightly different. Dandelion did bow its little head and its voice rasped like a tiny saw, but instead of the monosyllabic request, it said “Heather? May I have some fish?”

            The girl began to answer, sitting up in bed, but as realization of what had just happened sank in, her voice trailed off.
            “Wh-what did you...?” she looked closely at the small, scaly creature.
            Dandelion blinked, “May I have some fish?”
            Heather’s mouth opened and shut and a look of confusion and fear spread across her face.
            “Is wrong?” rasped Dandelion, apprehensively. “Did I say wrong?”

It was not until Harry Kirkbride had returned that Aelina and Heather learned what exactly their tiny foundling was.  Dandelion did not understand enough words to explain, even if it did know its own origins. It would watch and listen as they tried to draw it into conversation, occasionally bobbing its head or shuffling its talons, but it seemed to wait until it was all but certain the meaning of what it spoke before it would attempt to reply.
            When the healer did come again, Aelina and Heather took the small creature directly to his cottage, hoping that he could answer their many questions. When Dandelion was placed on the table in front of him, Harry bent down to be face to face with it, eyes wide.
            “How? … How does he come to be with you?”
            Aelina bent down. “So it’s male then?” She explained how and where she had found Dandelion and as she spoke, Harry’s brow furrowed.
            “That is strange. This is a Pygmy Dragon hatchling. I’ve never heard of them abandoning young…” he seemed lost in thought for a little while. “I hope you’ve been treating him well. He’s liable to grow up very clever and it will go hard with you if he has reason to resent you.” Aelina gave Harry a long, searching look and after a moment of appearing serious, the old healer burst out in laughter. “You must have gone very pale when he first started talking.”
            Aelina blushed and Dandelion flicked his tail.
            As Dandelion’s vocabulary improved, he eventually managed to tell them what he remembered; of how he had hatched in a small cavern by a hot spring where there were no other dragons to greet him. Dandelion’s instincts had told him that there should have been someone to care for him when he hatched.  Upon not finding anything more than a few small bats and a hibernating grass snake, none of which showed any interest in him, he began to look elsewhere.  His path led him upwards where he was met with only snow and starvation.
            A year later, he and Heather went to search for the cavern and eventually found it near the place Aelina had rescued him from the snow.  Only Dandelion was small enough to enter and he wriggled downwards seeking any clue as to his family, but he found nothing save the thick shell from which he had come and another egg that would never hatch.