Young Writers Society

Chapter 24: Ha Ha Psych You Thought

Carter was running out of reasons to keep Clandestine alive.

Him and Blackfield both knew the age-old myth: if you killed a dragon, you would gain its power. When they found out that dragons could hide in plain sight in the form of a human, or a harpy, or a goblin, everything changed. They weren't just looking for a giant beast, nestled in the depths of the earth, hidden from civilization. They were looking for godly power in their midst.

But when Carter had imagined finding a dragon, he'd pictured someone different.

Something was wrong about Clandestine. She didn't hold herself like she knew the power she held. She didn't seem to even be aware that such a thing was possible.

Either she had severe issues with her memory, or she was, in fact, not an ancient being, and Carter knew less about dragons than he thought. But that wouldn't have been surprising. Most of that knowledge was lost in the wars, during the calamity.

Ironically, no thanks to King Blackfield. Funny how motives changed.

When he arrived in the kingdom, he had told the king that he needed evidence that Clandestine really was, in fact, a dragon, and wanted to mine her for information first before doing away with her. It was the smarter move - or at least, it had seemed so - but he quickly discovered that there wasn't a lot of information to mine.

Even when asked about James, she seemed genuinely clueless. And Carter knew when people were good liars. It took one to know one, and Clandestine was decisively not.

The only thing Carter was surprised about was that Clandestine knew James's real name, and called him by it. Which meant she had been a trusted friend. One of very few, and the only one he'd found.

Carter's fingers tapped on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. The wooden chair had been carved by one of the finest craftsmen in the city. There was a whole story depicted on the back, and the arms were ornately detailed lions. His hand was currently resting on one of their heads.

The the chair was one of the many lavish decorations in the room. This room in particular was the king's study, and many of the accents were red and gold. Flowing curtains framed the large, tall windows that let sunlight flood in. Bookshelves lined the walls, each shelf stuffed full. Everything in the room combined was worth a fortune, but the entire palace was like that. Full of priceless pieces of art, put on display for the select few who lived or worked in it. He always thought it was better to give such things to the people, but he would never say so to his king.

There were a lot of things that King Blackfield didn't know.

Across the room, the king sat at a wooden desk, dipping his pen in ink. There was a tremor in his hands that had started developing a few months ago, and Carter was surprised he was still able to write. Like any prideful king, he was doing everything in his power to hide his illness, but his bright white hair and his pale skin and beard already told the world what everyone was thinking. He was old.

King Blackfield was inking something about a new city policy that needed to be recorded in detail, and it was something the king always decided to do himself. Again, Carter didn't argue. He knew it better not to - the more he agreed, the more he could build up a rapport for the arguments that really mattered. If the king wanted to waste his time doing work that could easily be doled out to someone else, he would let him.

It wasn't like he had much more time left. He should get to choose how to spend it. For now.

"Any progress on the girl?" The king asked, as his pen started to scratch against the paper.

Carter looked out the window. They were on the third floor of the palace, and from where he was seated, he could look straight down into the palace gardens. He could see the shape of the king's daughter, Eliza, walking past the fountain, with guards stationed behind. Headed to the stables, probably.

"She doesn't know anything."

The king glanced up at him. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing useful," Carter corrected.

"Are you sure you found the right person?"

Carter was quiet for a moment. He wasn't. But this was the closest he'd ever gotten to the slightest hint of a dragon. He had thought this quest would last him decades, but he'd already gotten a taste of it.

Even though something felt wrong.

"I think I found the right person," he said. "But maybe not for the reasons we think."

Blackfield's eyebrows lifted. "Go on."

"There's something about her that doesn't sit right with me, and I can't quite put my finger on it. She doesn't belong here. Not just in the Kingdom. But she just doesn't seem like she's... from here. For being so young."

"An old soul."

Carter scoffed. "Not in the slightest. An ignorant soul. Naive. A clueless soul, maybe."

"It sounds like she's not worth your time unless you have reason to believe otherwise."

Carter looked up at Blackfield, and met his eyes. Carter had spent the last five years building trust with this man. Befriending him. Convincing him that he would take a bullet for him, and serve him to the very end. Blackfield had started letting his walls down, and treating him like a trusted friend and advisor. Mentoring him. Carter had become everything that Blackfield had hoped James would've been, but never got a chance to fulfill.

He took in a deep breath.

"I think she's key to finding the real dragons."

The king raised his eyebrows again, questioning. "What makes you believe she's not one herself?"

Carter grinned and shook his head.

"Believe me. If she was, she would've been long gone by now." He paused. "And you and I might not be here."

Blackfield watched him and nodded solemnly.

"I do believe you're right."

Carter only smiled on the inside. As he should.

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Dinny hurried through the forest, regretting everything ever. Everything she'd ever thought or decided or done. Everything. All of it was a bad idea. Not only did she fail to redeem herself but now she was returning to camp far too late, after being gone for far too long, after having left without a word.

Why couldn't she have thought things through?

As she neared the camp, she slowed her steps and crept in the darkness the night still afforded to her. She had to think of a good enough excuse to be gone for over twenty-four hours.

Maybe she had gotten hurt?

She looked down at her hands. That would mean she'd have to injure herself. She didn't know if she was that desperate.

Maybe she had gotten lost?

No one was going to buy that.

... Explosive diarrhea?

Well, maybe, but for twenty-four hours?

Dinny rolled her eyes at herself and facepalmed in the bushes. This was a mess. Everything in her life had become one big mess ever since the events at the farm. She wished she was back home with Glayd, and her parents. She wished she never ran into the kids and heard about the mage woman in the first place. Glayd was always telling Dinny to think before she did things, but apparently, Dinny never learned.

Her string of inner insults was cut short when she heard something move nearby. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she knew before they appeared that scouts were nearby.

"Ha!"

Someone burst through her bush and pinned her to the ground. It was a young recruit, sent out to this camp probably for the same reasons she was. As some kind of punishment. He looked a few years younger than her, but he was bigger and stronger. Like most goblins were.

His long ears drooped when he realized who it was that he tackled.

"Oh. You're not meat."

Dinny blinked slowly. "Ha, ha, very funny, Crowen."

Crowen backed off, brushing off the shoulders of his leather armor even though Dinny was the one who got tackled.

"You catch all your game like that?" Dinny asked. She wasn't being serious, but her sarcasm soared over Crowen's head.

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "But usually... I'm not the one shooting anyways."

Dinny sighed.

"Well--" she started.

"Where were you? Thanna's been looking for you."

Dinny froze. She hadn't decided on her story yet.

"I was sleeping," she said.

Could she have come up with anything worse than that?

Crowen blinked. "Sleeping."

Dinny blinked back. "Yeah, I just. Passed out?" She snapped her fingers. "Just like that. I don't know what was wrong with me. Out like a light."

"Just like that."

Dinny nodded. "Just like that."

Crowen nodded slowly and started turning his shoulders. "Yeah. Uh. I'm going to get Thanna."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Dinny nodded.

Crowen did not get Thanna.

Dinny whacked him in the eye with a stick off the bush, buying her just enough time to dash off into the forest. Crowen had called out for her, but she didn't look back. She kept running. She knew she was digging her own grave at this point, but she didn't know what to do anymore. Everyone was already suspicious of her. If Thanna started asking questions, Dinny didn't think she could keep a cool head under the pressure. Crowen had only asked one, and she'd already broke. If he asked another, she would've been ready to spill. She was a mess.

Shaking, she ran. And ran. And ran.

That was two weeks ago.

Now she was sitting in the forest alone, looking down at a little toad. This toad had become her only companion for the last two days. She'd found him under a rock, and adopted him whether he liked it or not.

That was how pets worked. She named him Sticky.

The sun overhead was hidden behind a blanket of overcast clouds. It was a gloomy day, and it smelled like rain would come soon. Sticky would like that, at least. But for her, she needed to find some kind of shelter.

She grabbed Sticky and stuck him on her shoulder, where he obediently perched and nestled under her fur-lined collar. There wasn't anything, in particular, she was looking for, as far as shelter went, she just knew she'd know it when she was it.

"You know, this isn't so bad," she told Sticky. "I think I could get used to this. Me and you. Sticky and Dinny. Two peas in a pod. We don't need anybody else."

Naturally, Glayd came back to mind for the millionth time. Dinny's stomach twisted. She laughed weakly.

"Just me, the clouds, and my little t--"

Sticky leaped into the air, and into a nearby puddle.

"Sticky!" she scolded. Sticky was nowhere to be seen. He'd dived somewhere deep in the mud puddle.

Dinny groaned and squatted beside the murky water, considering the cost of sticking her arms in there.

There could be snakes. She would get dirty. She would have to wash her hands. Again.

"Sticky," she whined. "Please come out."

Sticky didn't respond. She sighed, and plopped down on her butt, and pouted.

"Stupid toad. Stupid puddle. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

She poked into the puddle with her toe, and looked up when she felt a drop of rain hit the top of her head. The clouds up above were looking darker, and more foreboding. Rain like this could go from sprinkling to pouring really fast. With a groan, she looked back into the puddle.

"I'm going to count to three. One, two, thr--!"

Sticky came hurtling out of the puddle at an alarming speed and smacked into her face. Dinny flew back onto the ground and somehow managed to grab Sticky before he flopped somewhere else.

As she stared up into the sky with the toad in her hands she looked up and saw a human standing above her, smiling. He had long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his hands were on his hips. Dinny... didn't know what to do with herself.

Humans didn't normally smile like that before they tried to kill her.

"Sticky is a cute name for a toad," the man said.

Dinny stared at him, still holding Sticky up in her hands, with her arms fully extended.

"Thanks?"

"You seem a little lost. I don't normally see people like you out here all alone. Do you need help finding your way back to your camp?"

Dinny's eyes twitched.

"Uhhh... that... that sounds awfully suspicious, uh, coming from uh, an uh, you uh--"

"A human. I know. Fair enough."

The man extended an arm to help her up. She stared at his hand for a second, before letting one hand off Sticky to take it.

"You're a weird human," Dinny said.

"I know."

It was then that Dinny realized the man had been speaking Goblin. The whole time.

Her eyes twitched again, but this time, more fervently.

"How are we talking right now?" Dinny was incredulous. Humans didn't speak goblin. That was just a fact.

"With words?"

"That -"

The man, before even letting her finish, held out his hand, palm facing upward. A flower sprouted out of his palm, along with very real looking dirt at the base, and in a matter of seconds, the flower grew and blossomed, spreading its pink petals.

Dinny started screaming one word, as long as she could physically hold it out: "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?"

"I'm a dragon," the man said. "That will explain a lot of things, for starters."

Dinny was still holding out her "what" as the man spoke, but she met his eyes.

"The name's Mickey, by the way."

Dinny's "what" finally came to an end with a croak from her and Sticky in unison.

"So, I know your toad's name. What's your name?" Mickey asked.

Dinny couldn't help but feel like she was staring rudely. She was, though.

"Dragon."

Oh. That wasn't right.