Meredith's Dragon

Chapter 5

We entered the broken village in disgrace. If Gwen hadn't insisted I see Erminhild, the village healer, we would have avoided the village altogether. I forced myself to think about something other than my foot, but thinking was hardly less painful. We had failed. We had injured the dragon, but the dragon had beaten us back. We didn't even know if Ebba still lived.

Regardless of our disgrace, Erminhild welcomed us into her cottage. The dragon had made the past day and night a busy one for her, but a bit of her burn salve remained and she had already sent her apprentice out to gather the herbs she needed to make more. She cleaned my foot and wrapped it with the salve. When her apprentice returned, she applied more to the lesser burns on my face and arms and treated Landis' burns the same way. She also bandaged the knot on his head and the slash in his side from where the dragon's tail spade had sliced him. When she came to Gwen, she asked, "Well, well, lady warrior, how did you manage to escape so nicely?"

Gwen complained of her arm, but Erminhild assured her the pain would fade on its own and she would be no worse for it. "You have many a sword-wielding day ahead of you, I think."

Gwen smiled.

Erminhild refused to allow me to walk all the way back to our cottage. Rowena heard that we had returned and persuaded Erminhild to have her apprentice help carry me to Rowena's house nearby. Rowena settled me on her bed and gave Gwen and me bread and cheese, though it was still too early for the evening meal. I didn't think the pain and the emotions of the day would permit me to sleep, but I found myself waking up when Rowena's two small sons raced around the room screaming. I startled and tried to rise, but Rowena assured me they were only playing. After the evening meal, she spread blankets on the ground and put her family to bed near the smoldering embers of the dying fire. She wouldn't listen to my offers to give back her bed. "Rest, Meredith," she said. "You need to heal, because I know your work isn't finished." I vaguely recalled Gwen's chatter weaving in and out of my dreams that afternoon. Rowena smiled softly and tugged the blanket up under my chin. "Remember, my home is yours, my friend."

My sister wasn't nearly so reluctant to crawl in bed beside me. When Rowena's soft snores reached us, Gwen whispered, "Why did you block me?"

"It was about to blast you!"

"Not if I killed it first. I had the perfect opportunity. We were so close to saving Ebba."

"I saved you."

Gwen was silent a moment. "You didn't think I could do it."

"No." I thought about it. "I . . . don't know. I was afraid you couldn't."

"You never think I'm good enough."

"That's not true," I said. "You're actually very good with a sword. Much better than I expected."

Gwen snorted. "See? You don't expect me to be good at anything or know what I'm doing. You think you have to tell me what to do all the time, and whenever there's a problem, your solution is the only right one."

"I'm only trying to look after you as best I can. You know, that's what Mother said before she died. She looked at me, and said, 'Look after them. Don't..." My eyes prickled.

"Don't what?"

Swallowing, I said, "I'm not sure. Don't fail, don't forget, don't let anything happen you two? She was dying. Her last few words weren't more than a breath." Why was I talking about this? I hated the tear sliding along the side of my nose and was glad Gwen couldn't see it in the dark.

"You did take care of us," Gwen said.

"I think she was scared," I whispered. I had never admitted this before.

"Mother? Of course she was scared," Gwen said. "She was dying."

"No," I said, "I think she was afraid I wouldn't be able to take care of you and Ebba."

"You were just a girl," Gwen said softly. "She couldn't have expected you to be able to." After a moment, she asked, "Is that why we had to do everything by ourselves? Why we didn't go live with another family, like the other children who've lost parents?"

I nodded, and thought she couldn't see it, she must have felt the bedding move.

"All this time, you were trying to prove Mother wrong?"

"Not wrong exactly. She was scared, Gwen." The tears came slowly, one after another, the tears I hadn't cried when I was eleven. "I didn't want her to have anything to fear."

"And she didn't. You did provide for us, and you did take care of us." She paused, and I wondered if she was silently adding until Ebba was taken. "But I can take care of myself now, Meredith. I appreciate the way you look out for me, but it's time you let me make my own choices."

"You've always made your own choices, Gwen."

She laughed a little. "Maybe it sounds strange, but I enjoy fighting. I feel strong and, and alive and useful. You don't need me as a shepherd and a housekeeper. Ebba is already good with the sheep, and I'll never be able to cook and clean and sew like you. I'm always doing something wrong. But fighting is something I'm good at. Can you . . . can you ever be all right with that?" She waited.

My opinion mattered to her after all. All those times I thought she was being rebellious – all her dancing in the village with Colwen and Marliss, knitting my yarn into knots with Ebba, sneaking into the smithy to make nails with Landis – she was finding out what she enjoyed, what she was good at, and what she was not. All I ever saw was were the messes she made and chores she neglected. I'd scolded her countless times. I hadn't thought she was listening, because she always took off again, another adventure, another disappointment to me. But what if she were actually trying to please me? How many times had she presented me with a flower, an intricate knot, or a couple of crooked nails?

If fighting really was her passion, could I be all right with that?

"I . . . think I can," I told her. "I don't know. I hate the thought of you getting hurt. But . . . if it's really what you want to do, I'll try to be all right with you fighting. You are good at it, Gwen. You have the instincts, I saw it when you were fighting the dragon alone. I . . . just didn't trust it. But you do have good judgment."

Gwen was quiet. "I have to go back."

"I know," I said.

"I don't think I can lift a sword right now."

"Ebba knows we're coming for her," I said. "She'll hang on." I had to believe she was still alive.

Gwen shifted under the blanket. "We ought to rest then. The sooner we heal, the sooner we can save our sister."

"Good night, Gwen."

"Good night."