Treasure

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

‘Dragons’ – that was what we called them: the surly, violent soldiers who wore the Maudraci crest. They’d earned their nicknames from the brilliant crest emblazoned on their shields: a red dragon spitting fire and curled around a sword. The dragons had appeared in the Valley six months ago, a black legion that had invaded the once-pleasant village like a plague.

They stank like one, too. My nose wrinkled as I approached the carved wooden table, where three dragons were hunched drunkenly over their empty tankards. The harsh scent of sweat clung to their clothes, and their pale-skinned faces were covered in dirt and grime. The conversation barely skipped a beat as I stopped next to the table.

One of the men, with tight red curls and a seemingly permanent sneer, stabbed his finger at the man opposite him. “That’s a load of absolute shit,” he accused. “The little Lord has gone mad. Whatever treasure he’s lookin’ for, it’s not here. We’d have found it five months ago if it were!”

Opposite the redhaired boy was an older man, his face grizzled and worn. He ran his hand over his head, pushing back strings of ratty brown hair. “Bah,” he dismissed. “You young ones are all the same. Too impatient for the hunt.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting in the low light of the tavern. “You have any idea of the patience it takes? This kind of hunt lasts months, maybe even years. If you’d served under his father, you’d remember that.”

The youthful soldier flushed, obviously embarrassed by the clear dig at his age. I smiled sympathetically at him as I lifted the heavy wooden tray above their heads, setting it down in the middle of the table so each man could take a new flagon. But, still smarting at the sting, he only scowled into his new tankard.

Stacking the empty tankards onto my tray, I flicked a glance towards the last member of the trio, another young man, clearly new to the legion. Acne scars flecked his cheeks and chin, lending a youthful appearance at odds to the sword belted at his hip. “Anything else I can get for you?” I asked.

It was the older man who answered me with a dismissive wave. “Not yet, little darlin’,” he drawled. He reached down for a moment, fumbling inside the coin purse tied to his belt, before he slapped a silver coin on the weathered wood. “But keep the ale coming, alright? That’s a good girl.”

I slid the coin into my palm, lips fixed into a painfully pleasant smile. That was the trouble with being the innkeepers’ daughter – or, adopted daughter. You had to be nice to everyone, no matter how much you disliked the way they treated you.

The soldiers’ conversation resumed as I walked away, the older man offering reassurance to the younger soldiers. “You’re wrong to worry. Lord Maudraci was sure it was here, and he wouldn’t have marched us all this way on a whim.”

The redheaded soldier sighed. “If you say so, Mal.”

The rest of the conversation faded as another group caught my eye. I made a beeline for them immediately. It was a small group of young men and women, about five or so, seated a few feet away from the group of dragons. They were hunched over their cups, occasionally picking at a single plate of bread and mutton in the center of the table. But they weren’t talking, and I knew why.

Once I drew close enough to talk, I switched the tray to my other hip and leaned in close. “You shouldn’t be here,” I hissed, and the young man in front of me turned slowly. It was Tamlen, as I’d guessed – I could recognise the blacksmith’s son anywhere.

I hadn’t thought twice about marching over here, but perhaps I should have. As his dark brown eyes searched mine, a small thrill raced down my spine. It had been weeks since the drunken kiss we’d shared behind the blacksmith’s forge during the winter festival, but as our eyes met, it was all I could think about. Was he remembering it, too?

A slow smirk tugged at one side of his mouth. “So self-righteous, Reyna,” he admonished. Tamlen shifted on the wooden bench, making room beside him. He patted the space and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Come on. You know you want to join us.”

“What you’re doing is stupid and dangerous,” I bit back. Secretly, though… Tamlen was right. I did want to join them.

What he didn’t know, of course, was that I wasn’t as obsessed with finding the treasure as they were. That was what they wanted, after all. Whatever treasure Lord Maudraci was searching for, it had brought him and his men to our Valley – and the local children were competing to find it first. After all, Lord Maudraci was a young man with wealth and influence; the Maudraci family name, after all, was ancient and powerful. What difference would one more treasure make to his life?

But for the local families of the Valley, who wore the same clothes their parents had once owned, their feet dirty and calloused, that kind of wealth would change lives.

The only issue, of course, was that – unlike Maudraci’s men – they had no idea what they were looking for. I’d heard Tamlen and his group of young men and women trading ideas, though. A secret, long-lost chest of jewels, or an ancient book that contained powerful magic. But Maudraci’s men were tight-lipped, and no one had seen the young lord since he’d first rode in on a black horse at the head of his legion. Rumours had spread that he was entrenched in their camp in the woods, but there was no way to know if that was true.

Wherever Lord Maudraci was, though, I hoped he stayed there. Though the Valley was isolated, travellers still came through here often enough that we’d heard rumours. The Maudraci family had a long, bloody history, and their young lord was no different. There were rumours that he’d slaughtered the bloodline of an entire family, for the simple reason that they’d insulted him publicly.

“It’s only dangerous if they catch us,” argued Tamlen, with a roguish grin. The other young men seated at his table laughed, flush with arrogance and recklessness. I shook my head, casting a surreptitious glance at the table of dragon-crested soldiers behind us. They were why Tamlen and his friends were sitting here in silence. They were eavesdropping, hoping that Maudraci’s soldiers would get drunk enough to spill some clue about the treasure their lord was searching so hungrily for.

I glanced over my shoulder again and accidentally locked eyes with the third young man, the soldier who had barely spoken while I’d served their table earlier. He stared at me from beneath a strong brow, his eyebrows drawn in a frown, and I broke his gaze quickly, feeling unsettled.

As I turned back, I saw that Tamlen was still watching me, his dark brown eyes warm and interested. I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks, chasing away the uneasy feeling from just before. Holding desperately to an air of indifference, I said, “Well, it’s your funeral pyre.” But Tamlen only shrugged, and the rest of his friends – equally reckless – didn’t seem to heed my warning at all.

Sighing, I turned away, and carried the tray of empty flagons back to the high bench that separated our cooking space from the rest of the tavern. Aunt Kayise was wiping down the top of the bar with a rag, her face flushed from the heat of the fireplace. I could see my uncle, Sten, carving meat in the small kitchen behind her.

I dug in my pockets and retrieved the silver coin from the dragon-soldier who’d ordered more ale, setting it down on the bench in front of Kayise. It was gone in a flash, swept up carefully as soon as she’d seen the glint of precious metal. “Where’d you get this?” she asked, and I pointed out the table. “Best keep them satisfied, then. Hopefully there’s more where that coin came from.” Kayise swept a hand across her brow. “In the meantime, help your uncle, would you? There’s two more tables waiting on that lamb.”

For the next few hours, I followed Kayise’s instructions, working diligently to help my aunt and uncle. Running the village inn was strenuous, difficult work, and often relied far too much on the few travellers that came through the Valley. But it was honest work, and I was used to it now – far more so than I had been ten years ago, when I’d first come under their care. Sten and Kayise had always said that I was a miracle – after all, they weren’t able to have children themselves, and my mother had never wanted children. She’d left me behind ten years ago, after making Sten and Kayise promise to take care of me. I hadn’t seen her since then; I barely remembered her.

By the time I had a chance to take a break from the work inside the inn, the sky outside was dark and snow had begun to fall. I was watching it through the kitchen window, munching on a roll of bread that had come fresh from the oven, when Uncle Sten found me. “Do you have a moment, Reyna?”

I shoved the rest of the bread inside my mouth and dusted my hands quickly on my apron. “Sure. What do you need?” I asked and glanced down at the bucket of warm oats swinging from his hand. “Oh. You want me to take it to Dandelion?”

Uncle Sten confirmed as much with a grunt, passing the bucket over to me. “I’m worried about her in this cold,” he confided. “Make sure she has a blanket on her, and plenty of straw.”

“Of course,” I said. Dandelion was the pregnant mare in our stables, an old workhorse who’d fallen pregnant some time ago. Uncle Sten had a soft spot for her a mile wide. “Anything else?”

“Just make sure she’s comfortable,” he confirmed.

I untied my apron, grabbing my winter coat from the hook and my heavy boots next to the kitchen fire. It was a short walk to the stable, but the cold wind outside would be brutal. As soon as I’d shrugged it on, I made my way through the main hall of the inn and into the cold, snow-swirling world outside. Steam rose from the warm oats as I trudged through the snow. But soon enough I was inside the stable, protected from the howling winds once more.

A soft nicker sounded from the back of the stable. “Hi, Dandelion,” I crooned, and held out my hand as I walked to her stall. She rubbed her nose against my palm in greeting, and I hooked the bucket over the edge of her stall. The scent of the oats immediately interested her, and the grey mare’s attention swung to that instead. I stroked her mane as she snuffled inside the bucket, eyeing the swell of her stomach. I couldn’t wait to meet her foal; Sten and Kayise had never owned a baby horse before.

As Dandelion ate, I pushed inside her stall and found the warm brown blanket that Sten had requested I put on her. I threw it over her back and tied it securely, stroking her side gently whenever I had to move around the mare. She was sweet, but I was always mindful of being kicked.

As I stepped out of the stall, I realised I wasn’t alone. A young man was waiting at the door of the stable, watching me silently. It was hard to see in the dark stable, the only lights coming from the windows of the inn outside. But there was enough that I recognised him: the young man from the table of soldiers inside, the one who’d stayed silent as I served them. “Oh! Hello,” I said, uncomfortably. “Can I help you?”

For a moment, he was silent. Unease crept over my skin, but the awful sensation only doubled when he spoke. “You were listening to us,” the soldier said. His voice was a low rasp; I could barely see the glint of his eyes in the dim light, which followed me as I shifted my weight. “Inside. You and your friends; you were eavesdropping.”

“They’re not my friends,” I said, my heart beginning to race. “And we weren’t eavesdropping!”

It was a bald-faced lie, and the soldier knew it. His face twisted in disgust. “You village rats are all the same,” he spat. “No honour, no respect for us warriors that protect you. Greedy and selfish. You’re trying to find the treasure, aren’t you? You want to take it from us!”

“No, I’m sorry, I-” I broke off, taking a step backwards. The soldier had crept closer with every word, a clear threat. I gasped, fear lancing through me like a spear. “Please – I don’t –”

“You Valley filth should learn to mind your business. But don’t worry, I’ll teach your friends the same lesson,” the soldier hissed. And, with his hand outstretched, he leapt towards me.

Fear exploded inside my chest as his hand closed around my throat. His grip was an iron vice, instantly stealing the air from my lungs. I choked beneath his hand, panic erupting. This dragon-soldier was really going to kill me, here and now.

No, I thought, desperately. I didn't want to die, not now and not like this. Blackness was already closing in at the edges of my vision as I swung my hands up, clamping onto his wrist. The soldier sneered down at me and spat. But the fear was all-consuming; I barely felt the spit hit the side of my face.

And suddenly, the fear reached a crescendo inside me, and something exploded out from inside my chest. The sensation washed over me, a flood of heat and something else, something dangerous. A sudden roaring filled my ears, and for a brief moment I thought I smelled smoke.

The soldier screamed. At first, I thought the noise was coming from me - but no, he had almost crushed my throat. I had no breath to scream.

He let go and I collapsed to the straw-covered floor, clutching my throat and coughing roughly. Tears had sprung instantly to my eyes; I saw the soldier through a hazy, oxygen-deprived haze. He was holding his right wrist and screaming, howling.

I coughed again and wiped the tears from my eyes, struggling to see. But what I saw didn't make sense. His wrist was burned, two handprints seared into flesh.

The soldier was still sobbing as I struggled to my feet. The movement drew his attention. Horrified, he looked up at me, swaying unsteadily, as he clutched his spasming, scorched wrist. "It's you," he said, shocked, and the words didn't even register. But his next sentence did, and my fear turned to an icy dread inside my chest. "You're the one we've been searching for."