Miriam saw the dragon even though she knew it did not exist. Vicious long sharp teeth filled its stinking maw, surmounted by fiery red eyes; a monster created from someone's worst imaginings. It was a nightmare, and as the dragon drew closer, so Miriam felt the fear around her grow, but it was not her nightmare, nor her fear.
Pushing her childlike frame back against the rough wood of the wagon’s side, Miriam wedged herself into the corner. She could see the dragon getting closer. She could not stop it. The nightmare might not harm its creator, but Miriam's untrained mind would take the phantom fear for real and with an emotion so strong, she could unwittingly rupture her own heart.
‘Tilla,’ she said, as she reached out and shook her sleeping friend.
Tilla’s eyes snapped open, the sense of fear almost turning into panic as the waking girl’s mind misinterpreted Miriam’s touch as the dragon’s final attack. Miriam released her grip on the larger girl and grasped the wagon’s side as she attempted to stop Tilla’s terrified reaction from completely overpowering her. The threat lasted less than a second, it disappeared as soon as Tilla realised the dragon was only in her mind.
Miriam relaxed, the threat gone, but her heart still pounded. Her mind left empty with the dragon's demise, the many thoughts of those around her rushed in to fill the void. Like whispers, echoing around a chamber the thoughts crowded around her. A captive in the lurching wagon, she could not escape them by running away as she would have done at home.
‘Are we there?’ Tilla asked, her trembling voice betraying her fear.
‘No,’ Miriam replied, and put her arms around her plump friend to reassure her, glad to have someone to concentrate on, ‘but we crossed into Runedor during the night.’
‘Oh no,’ Tilla whimpered, ‘how much longer?’
‘It’s taken us nearly a week to get this far,’ Miriam replied, ‘and from what I have heard it will be another before we get to the citadel at Denholme.’
‘Why can’t they just kill us now? Do we have to be alive when their dragon eats us?’
Miriam tried to put restful thoughts into Tilla’s mind as she looked around at the other girls in the wagon. She tried to identify their individual fears; some were in despair whilst others had resigned themselves to their fate. A couple would not acknowledge what was going to happen to them and sat quietly watching the enemy soldiers and supplies moving towards her home country of Lahbland.
Huddled together against the chilling drizzle in the back of the wagon, the ten girls were clearly prisoners. Their brightly coloured cloaks marking them as Lahblanders, yet she could only feel pity from the Runedorian soldiers as they trudged through the mud towards her homeland, along the same road the wagon had travelled. She felt out with her mind, and sensed concern in the men’s thoughts. Concern for daughters and sisters who one day could share her fate. There was scorn, but it was directed towards her guards in their scarlet uniforms. These men, hated in their own country because of the job they did, travelling the land collecting the girls that the Lord High Selector had decided would be sacrificed to the Dragon.
The wagon jolted again as it hit another large stone in the muddy road, and the few girls that had managed to find sleep found themselves awoken. They voiced their protests towards the driver, but he ignored them. More pushing and shoving ensued amongst the wagon’s occupants as each girl tried to make a comfortable space for herself. For once Miriam found advantage in her size. She could make a secure space in the tiniest of places.
***
The little caravan stopped in the main square of a small town. Miriam glimpsed the few citizens still out, quickly retreat into their homes leaving the streets deserted. The officer in charge dismounted and knocked heavily on the door of the largest building in the town's square. After a pause, the door opened and he stepped inside.
The guards let the girls climb down from the wagon in couples so they could stretch their legs. Miriam and Tilla were the last pair to exercise and they walked about the grassy square under the watchful eyes of the men in scarlet. Miriam felt better walking about, but the stiffness of her limbs and the weight of her damp cloak seemed to pull her down.
‘You should still eat properly,’ she said to Tilla.
‘Why?’ her friend asked.
Miriam looked at her friend and saw that although still noticeably heavier than the other girls, Tilla’s clothes had become very loose. She tried to think of a valid reason to reply with, but find none. Tilla was right, why eat when they would be dead within days.
‘Why did you step forward?’ Tilla asked. ‘They did not think you were old enough. You could have lived.’
‘They would have taken someone else. My family are gone; I have no one left. Who would want me about if one of their daughters had been taken in my stead?’
The sound of the heavy door slamming closed interrupted them and they looked up to see the officer returning. He approached the two guards that had been trailing a short distance behind them. The men spoke in inaudible tones, but Miriam sensed she was the subject of their conversation. They approached her and one of the guards took hold of her whilst the other escorted Tilla back to the wagon. Miriam looked back and saw her friend’s worried expression. She smiled to her and mouthed the words, ‘I’ll be all right.’
Tilla smiled grimly back.
The guard marched Miriam across the square, following the officer and into the large building. When she was inside, she realised that it must have been the home of the town’s leader. She was taken into a room filled with those she assumed were the elders. A young couple and a middle-aged woman stood to one side. Everyone remained silent. Despite the confusion of the hostile minds around her, Miriam welcomed the warmth after the cold and damp of the last few days. She pushed the cowl of her cloak off her head. Then running her fingers through her long light brown hair, she lifted it free of the damp material.
‘Miriam,’ the officer addressed her, ‘I am going to ask you some questions and you will answer them truthfully. If you do not, that infant will die.’
Miriam looked at the baby he pointed towards.
The gathered townspeople gasped in horror. Miriam could sense that he would carry out his threat, but he would detest himself, his sense of duty outweighing his own sense of morality. She nodded in agreement, the officer turned, and two townsmen dragged a reluctant young man into the room. His dark hair was dishevelled and matted with dirt. His pale complexion highlighted the purple bruise above his left eye. He looked around the room, like a frightened animal. Everyone apart from the officer remained quiet.
‘What can you tell me about this prisoner?’ the officer asked.
Miriam did not know what to say. She looked at the young couple; she could see their apprehension. She wondered which of her fellow prisoners had told the officer about her abilities. He obviously knew she possessed the gift. Two lives depended upon her reply. She reached out with her mind to the prisoner, and got a surprise.
‘She’s a woman,’ Miriam declared.
The young couple relaxed, relieved at her response, but the rest of the townspeople gasped in awe.
‘Good. So it is true you have the gift,’ the officer said.
Miriam felt his conscience ease; he knew that women who possessed the gift physically matured more slowly. Now that she admitted that she had the gift, he was happy with her insistence that she was two years older than the required age of sixteen for sacrificial virgins.
‘I don’t understand; why is she dressed as a man?’ Miriam asked.
‘To avoid being selected for sacrifice to the Dragon,’ the officer replied as if it should be obvious to a child.
Miriam suddenly felt the weight of responsibility fall upon her slender frame. If the woman was found guilty of avoiding the selection of sacrificial maidens, she would be sentenced to death. The method of execution, sacrifice to the Dragon. Miriam had known since an early age of the lengths that some girls would go to avoid the vile Runedorian custom of selecting a virgin each day to be fed to the dragon that lived near Denholme in the Yevearin Hills.
‘Tell me about her husband,’ the officer commanded.
Miriam felt nothing from the woman, but she doubted the woman possessed the ability to hide her thoughts, but she could not be sure.
‘I don’t see one,’ Miriam said.
‘I told you I was a maiden,’ the woman said.
‘Unless you remain silent, I will have the infant you helped to bring into this world killed,’ the officer said before returning to Miriam. ‘She claims to be untouched by any man, which would give her a good enough reason to disguise herself.’
‘Why must I do this, is there no midwife to confirm this woman’s claim?’ Miriam asked, trying not to recall her own humiliating examination that had confirmed her virginity.
‘This town does not have one resident. That is how the woman was found out. The infant’s mother went into labour, but she had problems that she could not overcome herself. Everyone thought that this woman was a man on his way to join the army, but when the mother started screaming, she went to her aid, revealing that she was not only a woman but a midwife.’
Miriam felt pity for the woman; she had compromised her disguise to assist the mother, yet the townspeople rewarded her by declaring her forfeit. The emotions in the room made it difficult for her empathise with the woman. Only the woman’s initial reaction to the officer’s questions was strong enough to rise above the crowd’s agitation.
‘Could we clear the room please?’ Miriam asked, ‘I’m finding it hard to concentrate.’
‘The proceedings must be witnessed,’ the officer declared, ‘the town leader and the infant’s parents can remain. Everyone else must go.’
The two guards cleared the remainder of the people from the room and Miriam felt a weight lift from her mind. She could easily distinguish the minds that remained. The officer was impatient and scornful of these people who had turned on someone who had come to the aid of one of their daughters. There was also relief in his mind; he was glad that she had cooperated and thus able to spare the infant’s life.
The woman herself was fearful and regretted having posed as a man, but Miriam sensed the woman was trying to bury something at the back of her mind; she was even more ashamed of something else. Like the majority of Runedorians, the woman possessed no training in hiding her thoughts, but Miriam reminded herself that her own lack of training would make it hard for her to discover the woman's secret.
Turning her mind to the town’s leader, she sensed he wanted to see justice done. The infant’s parents wanted the woman to be set free, but only if it did not endanger their child.
The two guards had completely different thoughts; one was impatient to be on his way home. The other had a strong image of his hands caressing the curves of his girl as she pulled him to her impatiently. The image grew stronger as the guard imagined his girl’s moans of pleasure.
Miriam gasped in horror as she saw that the girl was herself. She felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She looked round trying to find somewhere to hide, but she was the centre of everyone’s attention. She felt exposed, naked, yet she was fully clothed. She calmed herself by remembering that it was only the one person who was visualising her naked, and then it was not her body that he was imagining. She consoled herself with the thought that if guard had seen her truly naked, he would have been very disappointed with her immature figure.
‘Have any men courted you?’ Miriam asked the woman, keeping her voice warm and friendly.
‘None that I have wished to know,’ the woman replied her tone almost defiant.
‘So you haven’t even been kissed by a man?’
Miriam felt the hidden thoughts suddenly surface and the woman desperately trying to push them back again, but the more she tried the more she revealed. Miriam could see a man, a big but gentle man. He was above her, looking into her eyes tenderly. Then she felt a remembered pain. Miriam realised it was a pain she could no longer expect to experience, but she knew what it meant.
‘She’s not a maiden,’ Miriam declared. ‘There was a man, the husband of her tutor. Her tutor had been away for some time, an illness in her family. The husband tried to contain his growing sexual frustration. She wanted to console him but he misread her. He came to her one night.’ Miriam paused as she tried to understand what had actually happened. ‘She wanted to ease his burden. She asked him to stop. He did, but it was too late, he had broken her.’
‘Do you know who this man was?’ the town leader asked.
‘It was over ten years ago in another town, he was the husband of another midwife and they had a small child. The mother had left it in her young apprentice’s charge; she did not think much of her husband’s skills as a parent.’
Miriam did not want to reveal any more. Something in the woman’s memory did not want the tutor’s identity to become known. That was the big secret, not that she had lost her virginity, but that the tutor had charged her with knowledge that she did not want her husband to know. Something so important that she was willing to let him commit adultery in her absence. Miriam could see the tutor’s face, as she told the girl that she must consider doing anything to stop her husband from discovering her secret.
‘As she is not a virgin, there is no longer any charge for this woman to answer,’ the officer declared.
The guards stepped forward and started to lead Miriam from the room.
‘You will have to come with us,’ Miriam heard the officer say to the midwife, ‘I need to record that you are no longer eligible for selection.’
Miriam felt the woman’s disappointment. She found it hard to understand why the woman should react in such a way. Surely, she should be pleased that she no longer faced the possibility of being sacrificed to the Dragon.
Miriam was escorted back to the wagon and found that the other occupants had moved up and her place at the front taken. She sat at the back with her legs dangling over the end as the caravan awaited the return of the officer. When he did come, the midwife accompanied him. He indicated that she should sit beside Miriam.
‘What is your name?’ he asked her.
‘Peta of Twofords,’ she replied.
‘Well, Peta let me have a look at your mark.’ The officer’s mood towards the woman was decidedly warmer.
Peta pulled off her left boot and rolled up the leg of her trousers. Miriam saw a mark on Peta’s ankle and gasped when she realised it was a brand.
‘Who did that to you?’ she asked Peta.
Peta looked at her as if she did not understand her question.
‘These are all Lahblanders, they have been selected because their village refused to pay tribute to our king,’ the officer explained and indicated the occupants of the wagon with a sweeping gesture.
‘Oh,’ Peta said as she glanced at the officer, her expression hardening. ‘The midwife that delivered me marked me at birth.’
‘That pattern there is the mark of Twofords,’ the officer explained, ‘and those form her name. I’m going to make a note of them and when we get to the citadel at Denholme her name will be withdrawn from the Lord High Selector’s lists.’
Miriam noticed Peta grimace at this.
‘It may not sound as good as it seems,’ the officer said as he wrote on some parchment. ‘The Selector will claim her dowry from her family and they may not want her back home. It will be hard for her to find a match; a broken woman is less desirable as a bride and brings shame. They will have to feed her whilst trying to find the money for an increased dowry.'
The officer went to the front of the wagon and pulled down the chest that the driver used for a seat. Inside Miriam could see papers and books. The officer pulled the largest book out and quickly turned the pages before closing and returning it to the chest.
‘I thought not,’ he shouted back towards Peta, ‘there are no fugitive maidens listed from Twofords. I did not think that you were, but I had to check.’ He returned, leaving the driver to heave the chest back onto the wagon. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you accompany us for a while.
Miriam could sense he was concerned for Peta’s safety; vivid images of beaten women went through his mind.
‘I would be grateful,’ Peta replied.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to walk, unless you don’t mind travelling with these,’ the officer said, indicating the girls in the wagon.
Peta remained beside Miriam and the caravan departed.
‘That mark, did you have to do that to babies yourself?’ Miriam asked.
‘It’s a requirement, if a girl reaches the age of sixteen unmarked, she is deemed forfeit and is sacrificed to the Dragon without being entered into the selections. At sixteen a girl becomes eligible for marriage arrangements, as well as selection for the Dragon, the town or village leader must confirm her mark before a girl can become betrothed.’
‘Where were you going, dressed as a man?’
‘I was heading to Lahbland. I had survived so long without my name being drawn by the Selector, and it looks as if the war is going the king’s way. If he wins he will close off the passes over Thoresen Mountains to unaccompanied girls.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty eight.’
Miriam thought about Peta’s reply. No one knew the true odds of being selected but she had heard that most sacrificial victims were under the age of twenty, but that was probably due to most women getting married before their twentieth birthday. Twenty-eight seemed incredibly old for a woman to be unmarried and to have survived selection.
‘How old are you?’ Peta asked in return.
‘Eighteen,’ Miriam replied, and felt a strong sense of surprise in Peta’s mind. She was used to this, people asking her age, thinking she was a child.
‘There will be a fee for this escort,’ Peta complained.
‘Pardon.’
‘He’ll expect something in return, especially as they know I am no longer a virgin.’
Miriam sensed differently. ‘He isn’t like that,’ she said. ‘It’s a couple of his men you’ll need to watch but I think he will keep them in check.’
‘Are you using your gift?’
Miriam nodded and felt the relief flow through Peta.
‘Can you see the future?’ Peta asked. ‘Do we win the war and does the Dragon get killed?’
‘No, I can’t see into the future,’ Miriam sighed.
‘Oh, I need to get out of this kingdom. My family cannot afford much of a dowry, and they may have spent it to survive after I left. Now that I am no longer eligible for the selections,’ Peta paused, ‘the only other way to stay out of danger is to go to a large town. Single women are rarely unchallenged and have to prove their maidenhood, so it would be safer to find a brothel and become a whore. I don’t know if I could face that, even if whores are exempt from the lottery. I suppose it’s an advantage of their job.'
‘But you’re no longer eligible either,’ Miriam pointed out.
Peta pulled a face and gave Miriam a pitying look. ‘I’ve heard some terrible tales about girls who have been set upon because they slept with a man outside of marriage and were found out. For some reason whores are spared this.’
‘I knew someone who could foretell events. She was very accurate. The Dragon will be killed,’ Miriam said, trying to change the subject.
‘How soon?’
‘Within our lifetimes,’ Miriam replied, before she remembered her own fate. ‘Well maybe not mine.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Peta said.
‘You don’t have a daughter, do you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘This friend also predicted that one day my life would be saved by the daughter of a midwife.’
‘Seriously?’
Miriam nodded. ‘I had always thought that she meant I would have a difficult labour and my midwife's daughter would do something. But maybe the two predictions are linked, maybe the daughter slays the dragon, thus saving my life.’
Sitting with her back towards the direction of travel, Miriam could look north, towards her homeland. She could see the darkening skies over Lahbland. The clouds were heavy with rain. Maybe, just maybe, the rains would hold off the start of the fighting season, and give the snows blocking the passes over the Thoresen Mountains time to melt. With the passes open, the queen could send for mercenaries to come to her aid. A distant rumble of thunder brought Miriam hope; the rains were falling.
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