Anthony, Piers - Kelvin 01 - Dragon's Gold

290 Pages·2016·1 MB·English

by  Anthony Piers

Dragon's Gold
Piers Anthony and Robert E. Margroff

Kelvin of Rud, book 1

CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1. Dragon Scal
Chapter 2. Dragon Ire
Chapter 3. Memories
Chapter 4. Highwayman
Chapter 5. Captive
Chapter 6. Hero
Chapter 7. Gauntlet
Chapter 8. Boy Mart
Chapter 9. Girl Mart
Chapter 10. Auction
Chapter 11. Leader
Chapter 12. Dragonberries
Chapter 13. The Flaw
Chapter 14. Messages
Chapter 15. Zatana
Chapter 16. Doubts
Chapter 17. Queen's Ire
Chapter 18. Roundear
Chapter 19. Skagmore
Chapter 20. Nurse
Chapter 21. Travel
Chapter 22. Tommy
Chapter 23. Kian
Chapter 24. Irony
Chapter 25. Interpretation
Chapter 26. Dragon Slayer
Chapter 27. Blood Sorcery
Chapter 28. Sympathetic Magic
Chapter 29. Queen
Chapter 30. Recovery
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
THE FUGITIVE DID NOT know that his arrival at the small Rud farm was
preordained. He would have scoffed at the notion, had he been told. All he knew
was that his injured leg hurt abominably, that he was so filthy he was disgusted,
and that he was too tired to fight or flee if discovered.
It was night again. He had hardly been aware of the passage of time since
his escape, except for the awful sun by day and the cruel chill by night.
Dehydration and shivering, with little between except fear and fatigue.
Yet this was a decent region, he knew, if viewed objectively. He heard
froogs croaking loudly in the nearby froogpond, and corbean stalks rustling in
the breeze. Appleberries and razzelfruits perfumed the air and set his stomach
growling. The natives claimed that these bitter fruits could be charmed to
become sweet, but he refused to credit such impossible claims. He was not yet so
far gone as to believe in magic! But they certainly looked good! Hunger—there
was another curse of the moment!
But thought of food had to be pushed aside, as did dreams of a hot bath and
a change of clothing. He had come here, he reminded himself sternly, to steal a
horse. He hated the necessity, for he regarded himself as an honorable man, but
he seemed to have no choice.
He crept nearer to the cottage, orienting on its single faint light. How he
hoped that there would be no one awake to challenge him! He did not know how
close the Queen's guardsmen were, or how quickly they would appear the
moment there was any commotion. How ironic it would be to die ignobly as an
unsuccessful horse thief!
He paused, studying the light. Far off there sounded the trebling screech of
a houcat. His pursuers had lost the trail last night, and he doubted that they
would swim the river to pick it up again. There were hazards in that water as bad
for guardsmen as for thieves, and only a truly desperate man would have been
fool enough to risk it. Perhaps the guardsmen thought him dead already. This
fool, for the time being, was almost safe.
He came close and peered cautiously in the window. A slender girl sat
reading by the flickering light of a lamp. He gazed at the coppery sheen of her
hair, and the planes other somewhat pointed face, and the gentle swell and ebb of
her bosom as she breathed. How lovely she seemed! It was not that she was
beautiful, for by his standards she was not, but that she was comfortable and
quiet and clean. A girl who read alone at night: what a contrast to the type of
woman he had known! There was an aura of decency about her that excited his
longing. He could love such a girl and such a life-style, if ever given a chance.
For a moment he was crazily tempted to knock on the window, to announce
himself, to say, "Haloo there, young woman, are you in need of a man? Give me
a bath and some food, and I shall be yours forever!" But he was not yet so tired
that no reason remained. If he did that, she would start up and scream, and the
guardsmen would come, and it would be over.
He ducked past the window and tiptoed to the barn. He held his breath as he
tried the latch on the stable door. It opened easily, without even a squeak. This
was a well-maintained farm. He felt a certain regret that this should facilitate the
theft of an animal. It might have been more fitting to steal from a sloppy farm,
but a squeaky door would have been an excellent guardian.
From inside came the scent of horse and hay. He felt around in the dark just
past the door and found the halter exactly where it should be. The arrangements
in good Rud barns were standard.
There was the snap of a broken twig. He turned.
She stood there in the wan light from the window, garbed in a filmy
nightdress and a shawl. The first thing he noticed was the way her firm slim legs
showed in gauzy silhouette.
The second thing he noticed was the pitchfork she held at waist height,
aimed at his chest.
He swallowed, trying to judge whether he could dodge aside quickly
enough to avoid the thrust of those sharp tines, and whether he retained the
strength to wrestle the implement away from her. And if he did, what, then?
How could he hurt a girl he would rather embrace? Perhaps it was a trick of the
inadequate light, but her eyes seemed to be the exact color of violets back on his
native Earth.
"Speak!" she said. "What is your business here?" Her voice sent a thrill
through him; it was dulcet despite its tone of challenge.
What use to lie? He hated this whole business! "I came to steal your horse. I
would rather have stolen your heart." And what had possessed him to say that?
"You are a thief? A highwayman?"
She hadn't thrust her fork at him. That was a good sign. He decided to tell
her the rest of it. "I'm not an ordinary thief, not even a good one, as you can see,"
he said with difficulty. "I just had to have a horse. I know you won't believe that
I'm not a criminal."
"Why didn't you come openly to my door, then?"
"I—I looked in your window, and saw you reading. You were so—so nice! I
thought you would scream if you saw me. I—I'm a fugitive from the Queen's
dungeon. I know that doesn't make me a hero, but maybe it carries a bit of
weight."
"You have round ears," she said, her voice assuming a soft, strange quality.
"You cannot be of this planet. Certainly you are no ordinary thief. Introduce
yourself, Roundear."
She seemed to have no fear of him, only a certain caution. It was almost as
if she had been expecting him! "John Knight, of Earth," he said.
"A name may be an omen. Knight," she said. She smiled a mysterious
witching smile and lowered the fork. "You may call me Charlain. We shall be
married on the morrow."
He stared at her. Then, tentatively, he smiled. She returned the smile. Then,
unaccountably, he laughed, and she laughed with him.
She took him inside the house and gave him a bath and some food, and
when he was clean and fed she kissed him and took him to her bed. He was so
tired that he fell almost instantly to sleep despite the presence of her warm body
beside him. He didn't even care that this might be a ruse to lull him, so that she
could safely turn him in to the Queen's guardsmen. He had to believe in her.
Thus did John Knight first encounter the woman he was to marry. She
practiced fortune-telling, so had known he was coming: a roundeared man who
was a fugitive from the Queen. She had told no one of this vision, so knew that
his arrival was no trap by the Queen. She had known that the man would be
completely unprepossessing, but would be the one she could truly love, and that
though he had known a woman before her, he would never know one after her.
They married on the morrow, in a secret ceremony, and that evening he was
enough recovered to remain awake in her bed for some time. Their life together
had begun abruptly, but had an unspoken understanding that was at times
mysterious and at other times thoroughly natural to him.
The following year their roundeared baby was born, and two years after that
their pointeared baby.
The prophecy that John Knight had not known about was on its way to
fulfillment. His life was relatively placid after he settled; not so, that of his
children.
CHAPTER 1