The Dragon Maker Read online

Maegwin de Romily woke with a headache on the morning of her execution.

  As she roused from frightening dreams she became aware of smells first: damp stone, rotting straw, an undercurrent of urine. Next came sounds: the slow drip of water, the skitter of rats, the hushed voices of the other prisoners. Then finally, sight. Dawn sunlight fell through the barred window so brightly it brought tears to her eyes and made her head pound like a drum, beating out the rhythm of her heart.

  She levered herself into a sitting position and clasped her head as pain rampaged through her brain. Last night, after she had smashed her knee into his groin, the guard had punched her so hard she was surprised to find all her teeth still in place. But at least he'd left her alone after that. A headache and swollen jaw were a small price to avoid rape.

  She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cold, damp stone of the cell floor, hoping for some relief.

  "Sho-La, my mistress," she whispered. "Give me the strength to meet my death with honor. I am lost in the dark. Guide me." The words echoed off the walls and faded into silence. There was no answer.

  Maegwin glanced at the window. Outside, in the town of Mallyn, life went on as normal. The townspeople would be getting dressed, emptying chamber pots, cooking breakfast and doing the simple things people did every morning. In a few hours Maegwin would be led to the gallows and hanged and nobody in Mallyn would care.

  Maegwin shook her head, pushing the somber thoughts away. Instead, she brought to mind the morning prayers she'd been taught in the temple of Sho-La.

  Blessed Mother, guide me.

  Blessed Mother, heal me.

  Blessed Mother, teach me.

  Blessed Mother, I am yours.

  "Pssst! Maegwin? You awake?"

  She crawled to the door and slumped against the bars. "Good morning, Morran."

  A bearded face appeared at the cell bars opposite. Deep lines framed eyes filled with worry. "Ah, lassie, you had me frightened last night. It would have been easier to let him have what he wanted. I thought he was going to kill you."

  Maegwin smiled wryly. "Would it have mattered, Morran?"

  The old man's face became stern. "Now, don't go talking like that. We aren't beaten yet! Something will turn up, you'll see. The Songmaker will save us."

  Maegwin sighed. She was tired of hearing him prattle on about this Songmaker of his. "How many times, old man? I'm not one of you."

  "Well mayhap you should be. Where has loyalty to the king got you, eh? He's going to hang you whether you be a rebel or no."

  Maegwin didn't reply. He wouldn't listen. For Morran there were two choices: you were either loyal to the king or loyal to the rebels. But Maegwin had never sworn loyalty to either and yet she'd been dragged into the conflict anyway.

  Maegwin closed her eyes, remembering the day that had changed her life forever. Had it really only been a week ago? How could her life change so much in so short a time? She recalled the soft pressure as her sword blade slid between Lord Meryk Hounsey's ribs and punctured his fiercely beating heart. She tasted the spray of hot blood across her face and smelled the sweat that soaked his expensive clothes.

  And heard the screaming of her sisters.

  "Hoi, Morran!" someone shouted, jolting her from her thoughts. "Are you rambling on about your bloody Songmaker again? I was an idiot to listen to your lies! Damn you to the Darkness, old man. Your sweet words have brought me nothing but a noose!"

  "Ah, you're a chicken-hearted bastard, Randle!" shouted Morran. "If not for you they wouldn't have caught the rest of us. You deserve to hang!"

  "Really? And what would you have done if they had captured your wife and son? Kept your mouth shut and sacrificed them for your precious Songmaker I suppose?"

  "Better that than betray the cause. You lost your faith, Randle. The Songmaker will save us, you'll see."

  Randle laughed shrilly. "Fool! I doubt the Songmaker even knows your name! He certainly won't give two shits when you're dancing on the end of a rope!"

  Morran retorted but Maegwin shut their voices out, shuffled over to the window, and lifted her face up to the sunlight. She had no desire to spend her last hours listening to them argue. Through the bars, she could see a blue sky dotted with tiny wisps of clouds. A beautiful summer's day.

  A good day to die.