A Serpent's Salvation

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. However, over the past two years post rebellion, their sightings are becoming alarmingly more common. I’ve never seen one myself but the few stories hunters and merchants brought back to my village sent chills down my spine. They recounted magnificent tales of the impressive creature’s size and firebreathing abilities, as well as the path of destruction often left in their wake. Entire villages were demolished, burnt to the ground, most of the inhabitants perishing in the fires or by the talons and teeth of the serpent itself. Children and adults alike seldom left their towns for fear of running into the creatures in the wilderness where they roamed. As a little girl, I never had to worry about encountering the terrifying beasts, even though our farmland lay fairly close to the Valley’s border. But now, either because of habitat loss caused by the uprising, or the king corralling them himself, everyone needed to stay alert.

The king, I snorted brushing my unruly blonde hair away from my face, a crisp white cloud drifting down from my mouth, what a filthy pig. The entirety of the royal court is despicable, believing themselves superior to any hard-working citizen that populated their land. The ordering of residents to pay unreasonably large taxes and give a quarter of our harvest to the royal city just so they can gorge themselves. Living lavish lives while we barely scrape by. The tax collection last month was the reason I was so far out in these damn Valley woods to begin with. The collection guard took nearly everything my father had saved to last us through the long winter months. My father had always been a strong man, but with his growing age, his body is no longer fit to hunt or forage for food so our family can eat. So I have taken up the responsibility myself, using what little we had left to trade for a bow at the village market. I still remember how the merchant had sneered down at me, a scrawny girl buying a weapon, as I offered up the last of our coin.

I pushed the thought away as I adjusted the already weathered bow slung across my chest and pressed on deeper into the Valley. The falling snow dampened the usual chitter and bustle of the woodland creatures. At least I hoped it was the snow, and not the presence of a hidden lethal beast, I gulped.

Every crunch of my boots on the snow was slow and calculated, I could hear my heartbeat echoing through my ears. The wind had slowed now, as if holding its breath, and I prayed it was an indication of dinner to come. I found a thicket of bramble and squatted down, grabbing hold of my bow and drawing one of the four arrows I carried in a makeshift quiver on my back. I needed the hunt today to be successful, or we would have nothing but boiled snow to eat for dinner. Again.

I waited in the brush peering out at the adjacent clearing, looking for any signs of movement or life. I stilled my breath, my ears and nose throbbing from the cold but I fought the urge to move and warm them. I notched my homemade arrow in the bow, still watching the glade, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

A brief stir of movement across the clearing caught my attention and I froze as a rabbit tentatively hopped out into the open. It sniffed the air, ears and nose twitching, then concluding the coast was clear, hopped further out toward a cluster of snow-covered ferns. I tensed my arms, drawing the string of my weapon back, the arrow waiting for release as my mouth salivated and stomach lurched in anticipation. I paused to collect my aim, if I missed I was not likely to get a second chance. A small snap of a branch behind the rabbit had my bow drawn even farther and pointing to a little gap in the foliage behind the creature. A smaller bunny emerged from the foliage, crawling after the first and I relaxed my grip. The rabbit turned towards her baby and after sniffing the air once more nudged the little creature toward the ferns. I watched as they both tore off some leaves and began cheerfully munching, oblivious to my presence. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and stared at the pair while they ate.

I realized with a shudder that I could relate to these tiny beings. Foraging for food to keep their family alive through the winter months, not knowing where their next meal would come from. I slumped down, careful not to make any noise, and contemplated my options.

I have never been a particularly aggressive person but I’ve always done what was needed for my family to survive. My dad is a farmer and very good at his job, even better back in his prime, but no farmer can grow a crop in the winter months. My little sister is only nine years old and still does not fully grasp the hardships of living in our world, I intend to keep it that way for as long as time will allow. I was only a year older than nine when my eyes were first opened to the cruel realities of the world, when my mother died after giving birth to my sister. My father had tried his best to rush her weakened body to the village healer hoping their herbs and potions could save the love of his life. But by the time he arrived panting on the doorstep, my mother’s feeble body cradled in his arms, it was already too late.

Was I really willing to take this rabbit's mother away from them when I knew the pain that it brought? If I did, I couldn’t imagine leaving the tiny thing to fend for itself in these woods without the proper survival skills. Coming to a conclusion I set my jaw, pulled a second arrow, and drew my bow. In this world only the strong survive, and although I have a heart, I am not weak.

…

Immediately after arriving home, I got started prepping the rabbit and her offspring for dinner. I set the two carcasses on the large wooden table in the middle of our tiny cottage and grabbed an old knife resting on the windowsill beside the door. My sister was playing on the ground by the hearth which already contained a roaring fire, no doubt in anticipation of my successful return. I didn’t see my father in the main room which meant he was probably asleep in one of our two bedrooms for his evening nap. I rolled up my ratty sleeves and turned my attention toward the two rabbits. I told myself that even though the young bunny didn’t have nearly enough meat for a serving, the pelt would prove useful for trading and the bones for making broth. Besides, I wouldn’t have slept tonight if I had left the poor thing alone in the woods without the protection of its mother.

I felt my dad's towering presence as he came up beside me and fell into rhythm skinning the second rabbit, saying nothing but raising a bushy eyebrow as he noted the small size. I ignored his silent question and continued working on my catch.

“Angela,” I called out to my little sister, “could you run outside and fetch some clean snow for supper?”

“Yes Darcy!” she replied, smiling her little gap-tooth grin.

She jumped up from the straw dolls she was playing with and grabbed our cooking pot from the corner on her way out, singing to herself while she went.

After the front door latched closed my father spoke beside me, voice grim, “They’re raising the taxes again for the next collection.”

My knife froze mid slice through the rabbit's flank, “What?!” I exclaimed, eyes darting to the door, making perfectly sure Angela was out of earshot.

“They can’t do that,” I whispered. “That’d be the third time they’ve raised taxes since the uprising. The royal filth has already proved their point, and then some.”

My father just nodded gravely and continued to break up the tiny carcass.

I continued, “We don’t have anything more left to give… They have to know it can’t continue like this or they won't have any citizens left alive in the territory to govern.”

I set my knife down, and gripped the rough edge of the table in frustration, “What can they possibly stand to gain from starving us all?” I gave my father a pleading look.

He finally raised his eyes to meet mine, the scar from his left ear down across his mouth, a reminder of the rebellion battle, highlighted in the flickering firelight, “They are ensuring that there is no possibility of another uprising.”

He gritted his teeth and continued, “If we are too consumed by survival there is no time left for plotting. Even if there were, we would be too weak to fight off any of the royal guards this time.”

He looked back down at the rabbit, his hands had stopped working, weary from merely remembering the grisly battle between the king's soldiers and the outraged citizens. He took a deep tired breath, “No matter how unfair it may be, we need to find a way to pay so there is no trouble forー”

Angela burst through the door cutting off his sentence, but I knew it was her name he was going to say next. “I got the snow! What's for dinner tonight papa?” Angela chirped as she lugged the pot across the room and hung it over the fire.

My father smiled a worn-out smile, but love filled his eyes as he stared at his second daughter. “Rabbit stew my dear,” he responded softly, to which she let out a cheer and hurried to stir the already melting snow.

He chuckled and set his knife down on the table next to the rabbit. Finished his prep my father went to tend to the fire, leaving me to mull over the news he had just shared.

The guard would be here in two weeks' time to collect the tax from our village, every household was expected to line up in the square with their payments of food and goods. If a citizen did not show up in time the very same soldiers who were supposed to be protecting us from harm would come breaking down doors. Threatening and stealing until they felt they had taken enough, often more than what the had tax called for. Sometimes the guard took loved ones away as payment, mostly younger girls, never to be seen again. There were rumors of what happened to them once they got to the capital, given to the king's only son as a trophy or made to work as slaves for shopkeepers, but no one really knew for sure. I surely never planned to find out. I was too old to be taken now, but Angela was near the age where they might consider collecting her as payment. This made it imperative that we meet the new tax requirement with no delays.

I sat down with my family at our crooked table that night and dinned on rabbit boiled in snowmelt, topped sparingly with dried herbs in celebration of my catch. Angela hummed a merry tune all throughout the meal as my father and I ate in silence. The tune was one I had sung to her as a child, one my mother had once sung to me what now feels like forever ago. My father and I both spent that night tossing and turning, thinking of a way to come up with the hefty sum needed to secure Angela’s safety.

…

The next day I rose with the sun and quickly got dressed as I prepared to head into town. I decided during the night that I would leave first thing and see if anyone with the possibility of funds to spare had work available.

I suppose I was pretty enough, as a woman there was a possibility of gaining some coin out of travelers that stopped by our village’s tavern and inn for a night or two, but the thought had always made my gut churn. I have never had any romantic interests, though some men have previously expressed their interest in me. But my family, namely my sister’s happiness and safety has always been my top priority. I can’t afford to let frivolous activities distract me, no matter how often my father nags me about going out to town to scout a potential partner. He often reminds me that he isn't going to be alive forever and that my sister and I will soon be in need of another man to replace him and run the farm. I always brush him off and change the subject when he talks like that, I am plenty capable of managing the farm myself.

On the path into the village, I admired the now sparkling snow that had continued to fall all throughout the previous night. Our farmlands were a short walk from the main town area, but the road was safe and well-traveled so the walk was a peaceful venture. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, branches weighed down from their icy blanket. The air was brisk and biting, but already the sun shone down, taking the edge off the cold. Still, I hugged my cloak tighter around myself, trying to preserve body heat. I had chosen my nicest cloak to wear this morning, one my mother had gifted me back when I was small enough that it dragged along the ground behind me. She told me to wear the deep green mantle on important occasions when I wanted to impress. Today I would need to look presentable if anyone in town was to consider hiring me for work.

As I neared the heart of our village I noticed scattered hoof tracks frozen in the slushy mud roads. I frowned, often the guards didn’t bother to visit or check in with our village apart from tax collections. Waving away the uneasy thought, I looked up at the buildings and shops lining the main road. A mix of old wood and stone, each building was constructed by the generations of families who had called this place their home. Snow coated the thatched roofs and smoke swirled from the chimneys as the city began to wake. I looked up at the carved wooden sign hanging over the door as I neared the first shop on the town’s main road, the tailor.

Even though I was raised on a mere crop farm I could still sew well enough to get by from what my mother had taught me. After all, I had made most of my sister’s clothes from old scraps as she had grown. Perhaps the seamstress was in need of an extra set of hands now that the guards had come to visit, the people in the village were most likely wanting to look their best for the occasion.

I opened the door to the shop and a gust of cold air followed me inside the cramped entryway. As I shut it behind me, a gravely older woman’s voice called out from the back room, “Be out in a tick dear, hold on.”

I peered around the cramped store’s space, the sunlight from the windows illuminating a great deal of dust drifting through the air. A couple of wooden mannequins, half-finished garments of all different fabrics draped over them, littered the store. The front desk was covered in a jumbled array of needles and threads of various colors. I heard the floorboards creak as a plump woman carrying a bundle of wrinkled fabric stumbled around the corner, “What can I help you with todayーah, Darcy,” she sighed, “I have no work for you today my child.”

She set the fabrics down on the counter and began rubbing her back. “Mrs. Grundy,” I greeted the woman with a small curtsey.

Still hopeful I could find something to do I pressed, “I hope your morning is going well Madame. I see your back seems to be bothering you again, would you like me to fetch you some herbs from the healers? It would only cost a very small delivery fee.” I flashed her my brightest smile.

She raised her eyebrows and clucked her tongue, “Girl you know I don’t believe in their hocus pocus. My back’s been the same as long as I can remember, no herbs or magic will do anything to change that.”

She swept a clearing with her arm in the scattered supplies on the front desk and began to sort out the fabrics she had brought in. She continued, “I heard about the rise in taxes again girl and I do sympathize with your family, poor father and sister of yours, but I have no coin to spare right now for tasks I can do perfectly fine myself.”

I walked up to the counter and started on helping her fold the assorted fabrics. She raised a wiry grey eyebrow at me but didn’t move to stop my help. “I’m sure there’s something you can think of that you need help with,” I urged with a charismatic smile.

The seamstress scowled at me and shook her head, letting out a big sigh. She seemed to contemplate her thoughts before giving in, “Fine girl. I only have one job, just because I love that sister of yours so dearly and would hate to see her snatched away. You wait here.”

She set down her fabric with a huff and returned to the back room, emerging a minute later carrying a large exceptionally crafted pair of shiny leather boots. She must have seen the astonishment cross my face because she lowered the boots quickly snapping at me, “These boots are some I fixed up for a member of the guard that came into town yesterday, you are to deliver the pair back to him with not a speck or smudge on them you understand girl?”

I slowly nodded, taking in the sight of the magnificent boots, the pair likely worth more than everything I have ever owned and then some. The seamstress eyed me up and down, “Girl, don’t you go ogling at them now, treat them like they’re worth, but don’t let the guard know you’ve never seen better. We all need to work together in this town to convince the royal pig’s workers that our village is well off enough to pay their ludicrous fees. We don’t want them starting to eye up any of our girls, you hear me?”

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a stern look. I bowed my head, “Of course,” I replied.

I doubt a pair of footwear ever existed that were of nicer quality than those boots, but I could easily put up a front to protect my sister. Nodding in confirmation Mrs. Grundy scooped up the boots and carefully placed them into a woven basket, covering them with a drape of fabric from the bench. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ll bet you can find those vultures up drinking the pub dry.” She said as she handed me the basket containing the precious cargo.

The seamstress bent down, reaching under the front desk and pulled out a small chest. She fished a key on a string from her bosom and unlocked the chest, pulling out a few shiny coins. “Here,” she said handing me the coins, “two argents for your troubles.”

I blinked in stunned silence but took the tiny disks, this was a far greater payment than this job was worth. Still, however, nowhere near enough to cover the tax, but a very good start. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Grundy,” I whispered, “Iー”

“Come now,” she said gruffly, “Don’t keep the royal swine waiting now girl.”

She shooed me toward the entrance, I walked with my coin and the basket in hand, as she opened the door to the street. “We take care of our own in this town.” She said firmly, nodding and then shutting the door behind her.

I stood on the road for a second staring at the closed door, the residual heat from the shop slowly ebbing away, before shaking my head and starting off to find the guard.

The wind had picked up slightly but the tavern was not a far walk from the tailor's shop, the whole town was fairly small. I tucked the two argents deep into the pocket of my cloak, double-checking again to make sure they were both there and secure. I took great care with the basket, not daring to peek inside for another glimpse at the lavish boots for fear that the frigid winter air would cause them harm.

As I neared the tavern the noise of many men enjoying the pub's ale grew and the smell of cooked lamb wafted down the road making my mouth water. I bit down on my tongue trying to keep my stomach from making any desperate noises as I reached the door and prepared to enter. Taking a deep breath I opened the huge wooden door and slipped into the warm lively pub.

The light struck as soon as I entered, making me blink, adjusting my eyes to the brightness of all the candles and lamps around. I hadn’t even noticed the growing clouds that covered the sun until the dreary winter street was contrasted with the warmth of the tavern. The smell of ale and food overwhelmed my nose, making my stomach lurch as I walked to a corner to sit and scout the room. My arrival was not noticed by many as the majority of the people’s attention was fixed on a bulky man with a head of long braided hair, most likely a guard out of uniform, stumbling along and belting out a song atop the tavern bar. Most of the men in the crowd had their mugs raised and were singing and swaying along with him. All bore a familiar rosy glow indicating that this caroling had likely been going on for a while already.

I scanned the crowd for any signs of a guard in uniform, but it was hard to see through all the raised mugs, bodies dancing, and swinging arms. I scowled at all the men as the rank odor of sweat started seeping into my nose as it adjusted to the previously overwhelming scent of alcohol. There were a surprising number of people in the tavern. A few were men and women from the village but there were more guards than I had ever seen come for tax collection.

I was starting to wonder if this party was new to this morning or if last night's festivities had simply not ceased when the bench I was seated on shifted. I looked over as a very large, very drunk man plopped down next to me. “Hey there pretty lady, how are you this evening?” He garbled.

Well, I guess that answered my question, “I’m fine thank you, good sir,” I replied as politely as possible, whoever these men were they certainly were adept at celebration.

I inquired about my task, eager to leave as soon as possible, “I came here in search of a guard whose shoes were being repaired by the seamstress last night. Do you know of such a gentleman?”

I gestured to the basket I was holding, and his eyes traveled from my face down to look, pausing once on the way down. He hiccuped, “You’re a tad overdressed don’t ya think missy?” he slurred, “Here let me help you with that heavy cloak of yours…”

He extended a grimy hand toward the cloak on my shoulder, hunger on his face, but a strong male hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him suddenly.

“Let the lady dress how she likes Draven,” a voice ordered.

My eyes surveyed the hand that had stopped the advance, wandering up an arm chorded with muscle, to a very attractive man’s face. His eyes were locked on his comrades, full of silent command, but a lazy smile was plastered across his face.

He was dressed in an outfit different than guards I’d seen before, his black short-sleeved tunic seemed almost iridescent in the pub light. His pants were also made of a fabric I’d never seen before, its structured weave complimented the dark leather sling across his waist, one that most likely held a sword when on duty. The man’s clothes seemed as if they were made for him, fitting perfectly to his sculpted body and reminding me how tattered my clothes must look in comparison. I noticed the man’s disheveled black hair was just long enough to cover the tops of his ears, ears which had silver hoops hanging from the lobes, something I’d never seen before and I wondered what purpose they served. His surprisingly kept eyebrows were the same type of gleaming black as his hair, striking against his deep blue eyes. Those eyes slid over to mine and I quickly looked away, my face heating up as I realized I was staring.

“Yessir.” the man named Draven mumbled as he slid off the bench and reluctantly joined the crowd near the bar where the man with the braids was now crooning a slower song I didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry about my friend,” my supposed savior said with ease, taking the seat across the table from mine.

“Not to worry good sir,” I said bowing my head to the man, who was most likely a guard as well.

He smiled, “I heard you were looking for someone to return some boots too?” He asked, setting his mug of ale down on the table and leaning back.

“I am,” I replied, “Do you happen to know of such gentleman?” I asked, mentally shaking off the previous encounter.

He smiled slyly, “I just so happen to be such a gentleman myself,” he bowed and I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

I lifted the basket up onto the table and removed the protective layer of cloth to reveal the opulent boots beneath. “Do these look about right?” I asked, my heart skipping a small beat when I saw the shining leather again.

He reached into the basket and pulled out the footwear, turning them over in his hands, frowning slightly.

“Something wrong?” I questioned, suddenly worried I had bumped or scuffed them on my way over to the pub.

“No, not at all,” he responded, quickly placing the boots out of view on the ground beside him, “Thank you very much for your expert delivery services.” He flashed me a reassuring smile.

“The pleasure is all mine sir.” I nodded, letting out a breath of relief and thinking about the two argents safely in my pocket.

“Oi! Aren!” a voice from across the bar hollered, making me jump, “Quit talking to the lass and come join us for the next song!”

“Aren,” I repeated, smiling and raising an eyebrow at the man across from me, “What a lovely name.”

The name sounded familiar, though I couldn’t quite place where I had heard it before. Now it was his turn to blush, “Thanks,” he said chuckling, “I’d better listen to them before they storm over here and drag me back themselves.”

He laughed to himself and I wondered if he was speaking from experience.

“Before I go,” he said turning to me as he got up, “I would love to learn your name as well.”

“My name is Darcy,” I replied, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious again.

“What a lovely name,” he responded, bowing his head and smiling at me for a second longer before turning to join the crowd, raising his ale in salutations.

They all cheered at his return and I watched as he disappeared into the heart of the crowd. The man with the braids started a new song, this time much livelier than the last and everyone joined in. I blinked at the sight, taking in the energy one last time then gathered my things to leave.

After slipping out of the warmth of the tavern and back into the frigid air, I turned to start my walk back home. My mind began to wander, thinking of ways to spend the coin so I could profit in time for the tax collection when two gruff male voices drifted out of an alley behind the shops.

“His majesty is being taken care of?” The first asked.

“He’s at the tavern now with Druid, we should be moving on at first light tomorrow.” An older one replied.

“See to it that he is escorted at all times. And keep an eye out for the target.” The other hissed.

His majesty? I thought, who is talking and what in the world are they talking about…

My feet stopped dead in their tracks, my heart dropping to my stomach and blood rushing cold. I remembered where I knew that name from.

Aren was the name of the prince.