Page 15 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Fifteen

I tune my lute, gently twisting its pegs while plucking each string. We have a full house again, and this time, I'll make use of it.

I can't even bring myself to regret last evening. In the place where I might keep a hefty supply of shame, only a pleasant warmth remains. After several more moments of relishing the safety of Jaromir’s embrace, he snuck me into my room so I wouldn't have to face the crowded tavern. Who knew climbing outer walls could be so fun? He even let me stand atop his shoulders, a fact I most delighted in.

Now he sits at the center table, beneath a goat-adorned beam, arms crossed, and watching me with his signature furrowed brow. But what I once assumed was disapproval, I now recognize as concentration. His mouth twitches, and it's all the invitation I need to flash him my signature stage smile. The one that's all teeth and charm.

Neith stands toward the back, leaning against the support post and sipping from her tankard.

Cadoc remains at the bar, his hand gently gripping his tankard while he chats with Tomas. Tomas doesn't dare glance at me, which is a shame since I need the barkeep to pay attention when I sing so he might collect my stories and pass them on to future patrons. No matter, the show must go on.

Everyone is positioned accordingly. Once word spreads, it'll be easier to allow my ballad to speak for itself. But in its fledgling state, some extra help can't hurt.

I begin to pluck, and it fails to carry over the din of noise—of dozens of conversations and boisterous laughter. Jaromir frowns, and I give him an almost imperceptible shake of my head.

This is how it begins. I blend with the sound of the tavern, as if I was always there, and then once I've woven myself into the fabric of the energy, I demand their attention.

I don't bother singing, not yet. But I pluck a few tunes, some folk songs from the continent and one I picked up from Kingsley about a boar who stalks a hunter. When finally it seems like I’ve joined the general noise, and earned a few curious glances, I stand and kick my stool away, jumping straight into a heavy-handed strum.

The tavern quiets enough I’m sure I’ll be heard.

This is it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to guide you on your journey tonight. I’ll shed light on the path to certain peril and nefarious villains. Leading you on an epic quest that will test your mettle and measure the contents of your heart!”

With a quick toss of my head, I double check that my cap is positioned just right and in no danger of falling. I can feel the feather bounce with the movement, and a few gazes follow the action.

This is the first time I’ll share some of what I wrote of Aeron’s ballad, but first, the prelude which went over so well in the last tavern. Jaromir even suggested it, claiming he could weather some embarrassment if it meant earning Aeron some good will for rescuing his cursed prick.

A true grin dawns my face, and I begin.

When the crowd has accepted me as their main source of entertainment, hanging on to my every word and cheering at all the correct prompts, I know it’s time.

Jaromir only winced once or twice during my introductory ballad, and perhaps I should change the name of the poor sod afflicted by the curse.

No matter. That’s a question for another day.

I pluck an uplifting tune. It reminds me of the first day we set out on our adventure. Of how the horizon was a promise of destiny fulfilled, and how bright the dawn seemed. Bright and gleaming like Aeron’s armor.

A dull ache settles in my chest, and I clear my throat.

“ Sir Aeron has the heart of a warrior and the mercy of a saint

With warmth that rivals the sun and drives darkness away

Man or beast of evil intent will fall to his sword, fall to his sword

He’ll bring us deliverance, mark my words, mark my words

He fells poisonous creatures of malicious intent

Spares no killer, and no earthly threat

I rode along by his side, saw with my own eyes

The depth of his courage and the strength inside

The tale of our quest is not one that’s short

So if you’ve the patience, and offer no retort

I’ll recount to you our journey though it stretches on

For we are not finished, we’ve adventures beyond

But here is a taste of what’s passed so far.”

I slow my plucking a touch and shift to a minor key. This part isn’t sung but spoken word against the backdrop of my playing. I can feel Jaromir’s gaze on me like a brand. My ballad is not yet finished, but we decided I’d share what I had so far, and each performance add a little more.

“The road-wary adventurers found a secluded spot to make camp. Unbeknownst to them, they weren’t the only ones in the shadowy forest that night.

The creatures of the forest were drawn to the band of travelers like moths to a flame…”

When I end part one of Aeron’s ballad, I’ve told the tale of how he vanquished the monstrous beetles, and with help from his loyal crew, slew the entire nest. My forehead drips sweat into my eyes. My fingers ache from new calluses, and my neck is burning.

But goddess, it feels so good to play. To slip into the role of storyteller. I seek out Jaromir in the audience, and I can practically feel each clap of his hands as he smirks at me with warmth brimming his dark eyes. Neith applauds from her spot, where a table of miners, if the soot on their clothes is proof, raise their tankards in her direction. She dips her chin, grabbing one of their drinks and slugging it back with practiced ease.

Cadoc claps Tomas on the back with a broad grin on his handsome face. The stools beside him are suddenly occupied by two comely lasses, their cheeks flushed with laughter and spirits. But he only has eyes for Tomas, who is returning his smile with a blatant appraisal I can only assume means we won’t be seeing Cadoc again until morning.

Good for him. And I hope he spills all the details. To enhance the ballad, obviously.

“Thank you for being such a marvelous audience! Be sure to tip your server!” I bow and then sling my lute onto my back. My body is alive with excitement, riding the high of a performance.

Jaromir pulls out a chair and slides an ale my way. I wave away the drink and hesitate over the chair.

“I’m too restless to sit,” I say, bouncing on my heels.

Jaromir nods, rising to his feet. He towers over me, and I find myself tipping my head back to look him in the eye. His dark hair is tied back in its signature knot, and since we’ve stayed in town for an additional night, he had the chance to trim his beard, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw.

“What do you wish to do?” His deep, gravelly voice does funny things to my stomach. Even in an overcrowded tavern that reeks of spilled ale and sweat.

“I wish to be outside. Howling at the moon or running around stark naked. I don’t know. Something ridiculous.”

He nods as if this is a perfectly reasonable response and gently takes my hand, pulling me behind him. His palm is rough against my skin, and his calluses only make me want to know how his hands would feel everywhere else.

I beckon Neith just before we cross the threshold. I can’t get Cadoc’s attention with how far across the bar he’s leaning to whisper in Tomas’ ear. Tomas’ cheeks flush, and he bites his lip.

Neith bids farewell to her new friends and follows us into the night.

The sky is muted by clouds, but every so often, the moon dips into view.

“I’d say ‘at was a success,” Neith says with a soft huff.

I nod, and the feather on my cap bobs in response. Pulling it from my head, I rake my fingers through my sweaty hair. “The crowd was very responsive. And no one threw anything at me.”

Jaromir grunts his agreement, but his stare is firmly locked on where I comb my tangled hair.

“The folks near me enjoyed it,” Neith says. “But they want t’see Aeron. Right now, ye’re creating ‘is fabled hero who sounds too good t’be true.”

My fingers snag on a particularly thick knot, and I give up on my hair. “I embellished with my phrasing, but nothing I said was untrue. ”

Neith’s gaze finds the ground, and it’s only just now I realize she’s frowning. “I ken,” she says.

Whatever did or didn’t transpire between her and Aeron, she’s mourning his loss in a way I’ll never be able to fix. Not with pretty words or songs sung with good intent.

“You make a good point, though. If this becomes a regular occurrence, people wishing to see the hero in the flesh, we’ll have to do something about that.”

The power of a story casts a wide net. But we can help it along even further. People want to believe in the extraordinary; they crave it. If we give them a taste of something tangible, it will feed that belief, that hope for more in a dreary world of boundaries.

“What do you have in mind?” Jaromir asks.

“Well,” I say as I begin pacing. I do my best thinking through movement of either my body or my fingers across my lute. Since my fingers ache, it’s easier to walk through my thoughts. “We’ll need someone to pose as Aeron.”

“Are ye suggesting hiring someone?” Neith raises a brow.

“I don’t like letting anyone else in on this,” Jaromir says, frowning. “What’s to stop them from running their mouths or blackmailing us?”

I wave my hands. “Not what I’m saying. I wouldn’t tell anyone else what we’re doing.” I resume pacing. “But we’re all to be trusted…”

We have everything and everyone we need to facilitate this.

Jaromir’s expression melts into one of amusement. “You can’t be serious.”

But I’m already nodding. “You and Cadoc will have to take turns donning Aeron’s armor.”

Jaromir shakes his head, but Neith cuts in. “Aye,” she says, “It could work.”