Anagha Baheti

The next morning, Gelda and Arida found themselves back within the village headquarters. The chief was yet to arrive, but a shiny new lance on his table pricked at the last shreds of her humanity.

“I told you to leave the boy alone,” Arida whispered. “I swear, sister, one day you will get us thrown away, or worse, killed.”

“And what would cure their illness if not for us? Their shit-filled rivers? Their charred fields? No, sister, as long as they can get some use from us, they will not harm a hair on our heads.”

“That doesn’t guarantee our freedom.”

“As if these dimwits could imprison us!”

Arida opened her mouth to say something, but the stomps of the chief’s shoes gave her pause. The ox of a man loomed over the sisters angrily but did not speak. He paced around the room, seemingly looking for words to convey his emotions. The remains of snow sticking to his feet melted into the carpet. After minutes of pacing, he took a seat behind his table.

“Explain this.” He pointed to the mound of charred bones beside the lance.

“Another dead squire,” Gelda spoke before Arida could apologize.

The chief rubbed his brow with his thumb.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you both stay within my borders.”

“Um… because since we moved here, not a single villager has died due to illness. And do you forget how few children greeted us when we came to this village? And now look at them. Three or four of those bastards loiter every street. Also, technically, we don’t live within your borders. I made sure to build our cabin just outside.”

The chief looked up at Gelda with a cruel smile.

“Always so good with words, witch. Let’s see you find your way out of this. I am raising your rent to fifteen hundred from the start of this year. You owe me the difference for the last four months.”

“You can’t-” The chief held up a hand to silence Arida.

“I can and I did. If you have a problem with it, you can leave. Now go, make yourself busy. I have things to worry about. Oh, and Gelda, if I see you speaking to one more squire, I will cut off your access to our well. I would love to see you use all your skills to filter the filth from the river for a mouthful of water. Get out, you two, before I change my decision and throw you out.”

So many replies popped up in her mind, but Gelda swallowed her words for her sister’s sake. They left. Gelda opened the door, and the cold wind hit her face, drinking her warmth in seconds. She turned to her sister, wanting to talk, but Arida looked so angry Gelda was sure touching her would leave a burn.

Just outside the village, she bumped into a young lad clad in old, clunky armour from shoulders to toes, with a half-rusted helmet tucked under his arm.

“My deepest apologies, lady. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the dragon terrorising these parts, would you?”

Gelda’s smile rivalled Arida’s horror.

“Gelda, no.”

“I do. I can take you to the dragon’s lair.” Gelda replied as though Arida had never spoken.

“Then, by all means, lead the way.”

Despite Gelda’s slow pace, the ill-fitting armour made it difficult for the boy to keep up, but he pushed through without complaints. Young squires usually liked to talk about themselves or their legacy, but this one kept his mouth firmly shut. She soon got bored of the silence.

“That armour looks like it has seen better days.”

“And healthier people.” The boy snorted at his own joke.

“I take it this isn’t your armour, then?”

“Lord no. My father is a farmer. This armour and the squireship that accompanies it is a gift.”

“Your story interests me if you are willing to share.”

“About a year ago, an old woman showed up at our farm to talk to my grandfather. She beckoned me as she passed by the patch of dirt I was tilling. The lady had a crest embroidered on her cloak, so I followed. She told my grandfather that I was a child of prophecy and that I would rid our kingdom of the dragon. Grandfather didn’t believe her, but she offered ridiculous amounts of money and we had too many mouths to feed. So, a deal was struck. And that’s how I ended up here in her grandson’s armour.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Do I look like someone who can slay a dragon?”

Gelda shook her head. “Then why show up?”

“If my death allows my family to live, I would happily die a hundred times over. Well, not happily, but you get my point.” He paused for a moment. “What about you?”