The Dragon Bearer {ON HIATUS}

Chapter 3 - Meetings and Swordsmen

Alfhild glanced back and saw Eleri struggling. "Don't worry, we're nearly there. Just a few more minutes."

She was right. Sure enough, after a few more (rather agonising) minutes, a house appeared. A small lane led up to it, but the house was anything but little. It was much bigger than Alfhild's hut, much bigger than anything Eleri had seen the previous day.

As they got closer they could see a young man sitting outside on the front steps, sharpening what looked like a small dagger with a rock. He looked up as they approached, a scowl creasing his face.

"What do you want, Alfhild?" he called.

"You're always such a charmer, aren't you?" Alfhild answered cheerfully, not seeming to notice his gruff tone. "Go on, invite us in. You never have guests – you should be welcoming us with open arms."

"I wasn't expecting you," the man growled, "much less an odd-looking, scruffy little girl."

"I'm not a little girl!" Eleri said indignantly. "I'm fifteen!"

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. So, Alfhild, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He set down the rock and spun the knife between his fingers.

"Invite us in and I'll tell you. This is Eleri, by the way," Alfhild said, patting her on the back like an awkward child.

"That's nice. A trivial piece of information I'm sure I'll never need again." The man stood, pocketed the knife, and opened the door of the house.

"Thank you," Alfhild said, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "It wouldn't kill you to be pleasant for once, would it?"

The tension between them was so thick one could cut it with a knife. Eleri didn't even know his name and she already disliked him. The last thing she wanted to do was be inside his house under his judgmental gaze, but Alfhild had already followed him inside and was now tugging on her arm.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, her eyes grew to a size comparable to dinner plates. Artworks were up on the walls, and oh, they were so beautiful. They were painted in such intricate detail that Eleri had to step forward and physically feel the texture of the canvas beneath to believe they weren't photographs. The paintings all seemed to be either landscapes – one of which had a field so delicately applied, she could almost see the grass blowing in the wind – or people who looked so strong she could feel their power radiating from the canvas.

Tapestries hung from the walls, each thread sewn so expertly that they seemed to be woven into one piece of fabric.

Eleri's mouth stretched in a smile of wonder. Even though sewing and painting had never piqued her interest (she preferred sketching any day), she could appreciate how much time, effort and skill had been put into making these. Weeks, months, perhaps even years.

She heard hushed whispers behind her and turned. Alfhild was speaking to the young man, and he looked at her with mild curiosity. If it weren't for the ugly scowl that marked his features, she would have considered him something of a looker. With messy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, he had the appearance of a stereotypical rich boy. He was quite tall, standing well over a head above Alfhild, with a lot of muscle that suggested he had spent years working hard.

Alfhild hissed something in his ear and pointed to her arm. Eleri rolled her eyes and scoffed. Of course, they weren't here to make new friends – Alfhild was spreading the tale of her legendary birthmark.

The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he stepped towards Eleri. "You're the Dragon Bearer, eh?" The gruff tone of his voice was less noticeable now, but it was still there. As though he couldn't deign himself to be in the presence of such peasants, as though he would much rather throw himself off a bridge than be found with an annoyance like Alfhild.