Grace Under Dragonfire

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The first sign that Kira noticed was when the smoking remains of a cow dropped onto her uncle Mitch, followed by a terrifying roar. They’d been walking back home after a long day’s work in the city, through the Valley. ‘Work’ would be the technical term for what the pair did, she was sure of it. Uncle Mitch had begged for coin while nimble young Kira stole from the throng that always crowded the streets of the city, day or night. They’d made enough that day that Mitch got himself good and drunk as they ate their customary meal at what at first appearances was a fairly shabby tavern, but once the odour of the food hit all thought went out of Kira’s mind of anything other than eating.

She had run back to that same pub after her uncle’s demise almost on instinct; she had only been aware that it was closer to head back to the city than forward home. Not like there had been anything worthwhile at their hovel in the Valley anyway. A couple of scrappy old books, a chest of old clothes. Her bed made from scratchy straw. The dragon could burn all that stuff away as far as Kira was concerned. She was vaguely aware that she should probably be feeling something for Mitch’s loss, as well, but he had become strange over the last few years. Distant. Even so, he had been the only family Kira had ever known.

“Back again, are ye?” The barkeep barely glanced up from polishing a glass. “Did your uncle forget something again?”

It had happened before, with increasing regularity. Kira had supposed he was getting older, and his mind was going. Not going to be a problem for him anymore, she thought. She shook her head.

“He bloody did, the sneaky bastard!” The barkeep sounded more weary, almost disappointed, than angry. “He forgot to pay your blasted tab! You owe me three silver, young miss.”

“He’s dead.” The barkeep raised a sceptical eyebrow at her words. “Out in the Valley. A dragon dropped half a roasted cow on him. Killed him stone dead, instant-like.” She fished a coin purse out from behind her belt. “I remembered where he keeps his purse though. I need somewhere to sleep tonight.”

“Dragon got Old Mitch?” The barkeep could barely contain his laughter. “By dropping roast beef on him!” He burst out into a fit of laughter almost before Kira burst into a fit of tears. Her reaction halted his mirth. “Holy shit, it’s true, then?” He slid the three coins that Kira had just placed before him back to her. “I can put you up for a few nights, free of charge. Old Mitch was… well, not a friend, not really, but the most regular regular I’ve ever had. Making you the second most regular.” He poured himself a shot of some watery brown liquid, considered a moment, then poured one for Kira as well. He downed his in one gulp.

Kira picked up the tiny glass, sniffing at the contents.

“Down in one, just like I did. Just like setting a bone.” He grimaced.

It burned like liquid fire on the way down and Kira began coughing, so hard that her eyes began to water up again. Once the coughing died down, she felt a warm glow within and a sense of light-headed ease with the situation.

“Is that why grown-ups drink? To make things seem less horrid than they are?” The barkeep guffawed at this, poured himself another and downed it.

“Pretty much hit the nail on the head, young miss.” He put the bottle away. “I don’t normally offer younger folk like yourself anything more than milk in this establishment, but given the circumstances…” He extended his hand. “I’m Luther.”

“Kira,” She gripped his hand in her own. “Pleased to finally meet you, I suppose!” Though they’d come in here every day for… every day in Kira’s memory at least, she’d never been introduced to anybody; Uncle Mitch had only ever referred to her as ‘the girl’ when he’d had to speak to anybody about her at all, which he usually avoided.

Luther waved one of his serving girls over. She moved swiftly over to the bar, stopping only to deliver a full-armed smack to one overly familiar older patron who had pinched her as she passed.

“Kira, this is Velorie. She’ll show you to your room. Vel, Kira’s staying with us for the time being. She needs our help, and so she’ll get it. You’ll also get a job out of this, by the way, Kira. I’m not doing this solely out of the goodness of my heart!” Luther began to chuckle again. “You can start in the kitchens, helping out Marle with the cooking. He’d love some help, I’m sure. But that can wait until tomorrow, at least. For now, just follow Velorie.”

Velorie, a small woman with a charming smile, took her by the hand and led her upstairs but away from the guest rooms.

“Any tavern this close to a town gate will have rooms for guests, but we don’t usually have many. We’ve only got one for now, I think, a scholar from some fancy university. I try not to bother her.” She moved just a little too quickly for Kira to follow comfortably. The younger girl wondered how she was able to walk so fast and keep up that pace of chatter consistently. She came to the conclusion that Velorie didn’t need to breathe. Perhaps she didn’t have lungs? Velorie kept up the chatter about various rules of the establishment, particular clients that she prefers, those regulars that annoyed her. She mentioned Kira and her Uncle as patrons that had ‘never caused any of us any trouble’ carefully before gingerly finally getting around to asking Kira what had actually happened to the old man.

By that time they were in Kira’s new room that she, conveniently, shared with Velorie. It had one fairly large bed, a small dressing table with a slightly grimy mirror. Kira compared her reflection to that of Velorie. Kira was young, Velorie small. This gave the younger girl the illusion of greater age. Her messy blonde hair needed brushing badly, but there was nothing unusual about that. Velorie’s long brown hair was braided carefully and draped over one shoulder. Velorie had blue eyes, while Kira had one green, one brown. She’d never noticed that before.

Kira related Uncle Mitch’s final moments to Velorie, who listened to the tale with wide eyes and her mouth ever so slightly ajar. When she was done, the older girl offered to brush Kira’s hair for her as it should be neat and tidy if Kira was to be working around food. Customers can get ornery if there’s hair in their food, after all. That was the reasoning that she gave. Kira succumbed to Velorie’s wishes and before long was tolerating having her hair yanked and tugged about all while being chastised for not looking after it herself properly. Every now and again Velorie would make some kind of off-hand comment about soaps and shampoos that Kira had no idea about and Velorie would quiet down, embarrassed, for a few seconds before continuing on.

“There, all done.” Velorie told her, running her hands through Kira’s hair once again. Kira did so herself, admitting that it did indeed feel much better than before. “I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed, by the way. Don’t worry, I don’t snore… I hope you don’t either!”

Kira was unaware whether she snored or not. Uncle Mitch had never complained about it, though he had kept her awake often enough with his own nocturnal nasal noises. So she shrugged, and Velorie laughed.

“We’ll find out together, then, won’t we?” She pointed out the bathroom that was down the hall, and also the other staff bedrooms. There was the Master bedroom for Luther alone, and another room much like this that was shared by the other two girls that worked here, Petronella and Margot. She also received warnings not to intrude in either of those rooms.

“What about Marle, the cook?” Kira pried. Velorie informed her that he preferred to sleep in the kitchen. The stove, he had told her when she had first started, was toasty warm all night long. Once settled in her portion of the bed, Kira realised that she’d never been this comfortable before. There had always been a piece of straw poking her in the ribs or her blankets had just not quite been warm enough to prevent her from waking, shivering, during the night. Velorie snored lightly, but even though her face was mere inches from Kira’s it did nothing to inhibit her slumber.

The next morning, after the best and most restful night’s sleep Kira had ever had, she was set to work in the kitchens with Marle. A large man, quiet and awkward, Marle kept such an orderly kitchen that Kira gawped. He was frying up breakfast for the staff and her duty this morning was to deliver it to the communal dining room in the staff quarters.

Luther sat at the head of the table when Kira entered with a platter piled high with rashers of bacon, heaps of eggs and a mountain of pancakes that she quickly and cleanly deposited in the middle of the table. Marle was just behind her with a pot filled with steaming tea. Velorie sat opposite Luther, with two unknown girls sitting to her left. These, Kira reasoned, must be Petronella and Margot. She sat on Velorie’s right as Marle took his place on the bench next to her.

“First I’d like to officially welcome Kira to our little family,” Luther stood as he began to speak. “And introduce her to you all properly. You already know Velorie, of course, and Marle you’ve met. This is Petronella and Margot.” The younger nodded at the first name, her long dark curls almost bouncing as her dark eyes glittered. Margot, with her blue eyes and bright red bob grinned as her name passed Luther’s lips. “Now that that’s over and done with, let’s eat!”

Kira’s first day was busier than she had expected. Marle didn’t know what to do with a kitchen hand, so had her running all over the tavern delivering messages to people, handing out food when the serving staff were tardy; she was almost everywhere else but the kitchen throughout the course of the day. As a consequence, by evening, she was nearly exhausted. Luther told her with a grin to take the rest of the day off from running errands for Marle and to relax in the common room for a while.

No sooner than she’d chosen a seat at an empty table than a group of four very different individuals walked through the door and claimed it. Well, she was quiet enough most of the time that nobody noticed her; she decided to continue towards the table and sit at her chosen seat anyway.

Nobody said a word about her as she wordlessly joined them. Not the tall blonde woman in a chain shirt that was clearly their leader, not the burly broad-shouldered gentleman sat next to her in his dapper suit. Not the greasy, drunk-looking snake-eyed fellow that was constantly rolling daggers over his knuckles. Even the small old woman with bright green eyes to accompany her greying hair that carried a longbow said nothing, though she stared directly at Kira with a knowing grin on her face as she took her seat.

“We’ve followed the beast this far,” The tall blonde woman had a clear voice, it rang like a bell. “It has to have its lair around here somewhere. Somewhere local.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Snake-eyes sounded just as shifty as he looked. He flipped one of his daggers up into the air and caught it with his other hand, all while maintaining his rhythm. Flipping both up into the air, he caught them and abruptly made them vanish, presumably into his sleeves.

The older woman, eyes still locked onto Kira, pointed out that she would be able to find traces once they moved into the Valley itself in her scratchy voice. Kira felt that she was the one being addressed, though her companions answered her quickly enough.

“Well, far be it from me to take control of this expedition, but we could always hire some local expert to guide us?” The broad-shouldered gentleman brushed his moustache as he spoke. “I’m still not entirely convinced that the four of us are going to be enough to fell the dreaded creature. Perhaps some extra swords or bows…?”

The tall blonde woman grinned. “Percival, my old friend, we’ve been over this discussion so many times in so many ways over so many years of adventuring together. You know my answer. Why even ask?”

“It’s all to do with my cleaning bill once we’re back home, you see.” Percival told her in a conspiratorial voice. “I get more to myself if I don’t have to pay to have my suits cleaned all the bloody time!” She shook her head as the other two laughed.

“What creature are you looking for?” Kira asked them.

“What business is it of yours?” Snake-eyes asked her, his tone vicious.

“I’m a local, plus I work here,” She motioned all about, indicating the tavern. “I might be able to find someone who can help out.”

“Dragon.” The older woman’s scratchy voice interrupted. “We’re hunting a dragon.”

Kira shuddered. She’d known that was their target. It couldn’t have been anything else. She told them of her Uncle Mitch’s demise.

“Thank you for the tale,” The tall blonde woman, Grace, she’d introduced herself as, told her. “We’ll be fine, I’m sure. It won’t take long to find your uncle’s… your uncle. From there I’m certain we can pick up on the beast’s trail and find its lair.”

Griff, the snake-eyed one, had a predatory grin on his face at the prospect of the draconic slaughter to come.

The older woman, Avery, looked lost in thought. Grace told Kira that she often got lost in her own head, that the best thing was to leave her to it. She’d never done it when action was needed, and often came up with interesting ways around problems after considering them for a time.

“Take me with you.” Kira told Grace. She was the leader; Kira was sure of it.

“No way. Our way of life is dangerous enough as it is, you’re a kid. No. Not happening.” Grace’s tone was warm but firm.

“I can take care of myself, plus I lived in that Valley my whole life until yesterday.” Kira insisted.

Griff watched this exchange of words with a bemused smile on his face and a mug of ale in one hand. Percival simply raised an eyebrow in Kira’s direction.

“I’m quick, quiet, I’ll find the monster for you, and you can bring it down.” Kira continued to plead.

“It isn’t happening, kid, I’m sorry.” Grace was losing her warmth.

“Fine.” Kira stood, turned and began to walk away, brushing past Grace as she did. She continued a few paces then turned back. Grace’s hand snagged the purse out of the air almost before Kira threw it.

“You little thief!” Grace grinned. “If we had more time to train you, or you were a little older, then maybe we could talk about it. You’re good though, I’m not going to deny that. I didn’t even feel you take my purse.” Her smile slowly vanished. “Answer is still no, though. Maybe you can help with our next dragon?”

“The next dragon wasn’t the one that killed my Uncle Mitch.” Kira sulked and stalked away, back to the room she shared with Velorie.

She saw the group leave the next morning, then it was back to working all day every day. Marle took to sending her on errands outside of the tavern, giving her a bit of time to explore the city and perhaps make a little extra on the sides.

A week and a half after Grace and her crew of dragon-hunters had left Kira noticed a new face in the market amongst the crowd of beggars. The newcomer had taken position right where Uncle Mitch had preferred, just near a bridge with enough foot traffic to make it worth his time as well as a nice post to relax on.

One arm burned away, her eyes melted from her scarred face, charred head bald as a boiled egg slumped Grace herself, the remains of her chain armour fused into her flesh by dragonfire. Kira moved towards her smoothly through the crowd, taking a few purses almost without thinking about it on her way past the most likely candidates. When she reached the maimed adventurer, she hopped down out of the way and sat beside her.

“Grace?” Kira hissed into her ear.

“Fallen.” The badly wounded woman could barely speak, her voice a rasp. “I am Fallen, now.” She turned her eyeless mess of a face towards Kira. Cracked flesh in her neck crackled and split as she moved. “I recognise your voice. Be glad I didn’t let you come, child.”

Kira took hold of Fallen’s remaining hand, mercifully unharmed. She turned the palm up and placed a heavy purse into Fallen’s hand. The woman’s fingers curled around it briefly.

“There should be enough there for healing. You’ll never see again, and the arm will never grow back, but surely the temple hospital can do something to help.” Kira told her bluntly. Fallen nodded her understanding.

“Please, if you would assist me?” Fallen had suffered damage to her throat as well. Kira doubted she’d ever sound as clear and sweet as she once had. She assisted Fallen to her feet and began guiding her towards the temple district without speaking any further. She simply held her hand and gently guided the blinded and maimed warrior through the crowded city. Fallen followed almost as if being controlled by Kira’s own mind.

Months passed after this incident, dragon attacks in the Valley regularly reported. Occasionally a mob of unruly hunters would head out and try to take the beast down, but all met with as much success as had Grace’s group. Kira spent that time looking for somebody to teach her how to shoot, as she reasoned only one of the new firesticks from the Far West could take the dragon down. She met with little success, the only person in the city with any knowledge about the mysterious things called ‘rifles’ was Marle, it seemed.

One evening, just as the first snow began to fall for the winter, as she approached the tavern returning from one of Marle’s errands, she saw a strange contraption in front of the building. It took up nearly half of the roadway, sputtering and belching out clouds of thick black smoke. A hooded figure exited the strange thing and ducked into the tavern, then it left, passing by Kira who felt the warmth of its exhaust as it moved away with a roar. She saw that it was some kind of self-propelled wheeled cart of some kind and wondered how it functioned. Was magic involved, or science? Or some convoluted combination of the two? Kira refused to believe that the two fields were as polar as most people thought. Surely there was some way they could work together, on some level, at some point.

Lost in her thoughts, she entered the tavern, idly wondering who had gotten out of the vehicle. She still reeked of its exhaust. She made her way back to the kitchens, dumping Marle’s box of goodies on the table. He never told her what to pick up, just where to go and who to speak to. Sometimes it was a box of groceries, such as tonight; other times it was various spices or other kitchen equipment. One time he had needed a new knife from the blacksmith. It was all stuff that he could have gone out and dealt with himself, except Marle didn’t like outside. Marle could barely set foot outside of his kitchen some days. Luther had told Kira that it was something to do with experiences that Marle didn’t like talking about and to not bother him about it. Kira figured everybody deserved their own space, and if Marle’s was the kitchen, then so be it.

He glanced up from the counter that he was busily slicing roast pork at, looked approvingly at the box of goodies that she’d plopped beside him. He finished preparing a plate of various meats and handed it to her.

“Hand that to Petronella, would you? She knows who it’s for.” Marle then went back to the pork roast and began slicing anew.

Kira entered the common room holding a platter of meat, saw Petronella over a reasonably crowded room indicate which patron to deliver it to with her eyes, grinned at her friend and took it over to the table.

A warrior sat there, bold and dynamic. She had one arm; the other had been burned off by dragonfire. Her hair had begun to grow back, a cap of pure blonde curls. A rag covered eyes that no longer functioned. The scarring on her face had not been as terrible as Kira had feared. She held herself high, however and upon hearing Kira’s footsteps alone stood up and extended her hand.

“Kira!” The warrior still had a rasp to her voice. It would never again ring like the bell it had once resembled. “I recognised your footsteps. I would love to say that it is good to see you, but… well…”

“Fallen? Or is it Grace again?” Kira had learned more about some of the knightly orders as she’d lived in the city, some knights are named after virtues. Some knights name themselves.

“It is Fallen Grace, and I am here because I want your help in hunting and killing that dragon.” Kira laughed as the older woman said this. “I am serious, Kira. It will take time and preparation, resources and manpower that I don’t have yet. I am alive because of you; we both want the beast dead. Let’s join forces. We’re not going to run out into the Valley and get ourselves killed right away, like last time.” She sounded sad.

“I’m in,” Kira told Fallen Grace without quite knowing why. She was not quite so hot for vengeance for Uncle Mitch these days. But there was something about Fallen Grace, something that had been hinted at when Kira had first met her as Grace months ago, lost as Fallen. But Fallen Grace, she had this quality in abundance. Kira suspected that she would follow Fallen Grace anywhere, into Hell itself, if she just asked her. The woman almost glowed.

“Excellent!” Fallen Grace grinned. Kira found herself smiling as well. “Now, may I have my meat platter, please? I can smell it and I am rather hungry…” Kira fumbled her words in her haste to apologise and placed the platter on the table in front of Fallen Grace, who began delicately picking pieces of meat up, rolling them up and popping them into her mouth. At no point did it seem like a blind woman was eating in front of her.

“Can you organise shooting lessons for me?” Kira asked. Fallen Grace began to laugh.

“My friend, you will learn to shoot. You will be the best mark in the land, and you will take the beast down by taking out its own eyes. I can see it as though it is happening right now.” Fallen Grace returned to her meal, and Kira returned to her work.