Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon

I'm sorry guys! School, exams, and pretty much everything under the sun has put me on hiatus, but I'm back now, and hopefully to stay.

"I will be around, when you think its over. I won't let you down, when your luck runs out. When it feels like life is holding you down, whenever you need me, I will be around."~I will be Around, by Nick Whitaker.

Chapter 9: Sneaking In and Confessions

Atwood had promised them that he had told the knights nothing of the two stowing away in his barn, but he had also said that there would probably not be very much time for them to stay, now that the King’s Guard themselves were looking for them. He had also privately mentioned to Jane that Dragon’s physical state was improving, but he would still need at least another day and a half before he could go out on any flights, or even long walks. The reptile in question was mostly vexed by the fact that now the knights were saying he had simply attacked them and killed Jane. It brought the vivid images of his nightmare while in the cave back into his head.

Jane, meanwhile, was trying to figure a way out of this situation that did not involve either of them dying for real. It took a long period of deep thinking, and reviewing exactly what the knights had said. This, of course, was periodically interrupted by the fact that the knights had control over most of the castle, and any attempt to return back could easily turn into a trap.

From what she had heard, the rest of the castle thought she was dead, so maybe there would be some leverage if she were to reach someone that was not involved in the plot. The only question was who.

It had certainly been an eventful day in the castle. From seeing that the knights had been attacked to hearing about the loss of one of the squires, most of the staff was in shambles. While Jane’s friends and her parents lamented the supposed ‘death’, Rennard approached Sir Theodore with the proposition of doubling the guard for night-watch that night. The reason that there was the threat of a fire-breathing rogue dragon on the loose had to be good enough persuasion.

The older knight looked more or less impassive as Rennard put forth his proposition, but the minute the younger man put forth his reason for the need of more guard that night, a flicker of deep loss crossed Sir Theodore’s face before he answered unemotionally back.

“Yes, it shall be granted. See to it that the centuries are doubled.”

Another secure hold. Now all Rennard would have to do was to wait until the girl or the beast made their move, and when they did, he would strike back. And, if his assumptions were correct, the girl would be doing something to counter his plan tonight, if not tomorrow.

He would have been right.

It was nightfall when the first part of Jane’s plan went into action. The red-head shifted lightly from her position against Dragon’s left foreleg, giving it a few calming pats before getting quietly to her feet. Grabbing a cloak that had been left [probably on purpose] by Atwood, she wrapped it around herself, making sure her flaming-red hair was well covered. In this case, secrecy would be her biggest advantage, tool, and guard.

Jane looked back at the slumbering Dragon, noting that there was a faint smile playing on his face.

Probably dreaming about cows. [She had found out about his odd fetish for them a few days after she had met him.] She thought, allowing the faint ghost of a grin to cross her countenance as she lightly pushed open the door, the hinges making the faintest of creaks. As soon as she was sure the sound would not wake the fire-breather [must take the unusually good hearing into account], she stepped through the door, out into the night. This was the one part of the way where he could not follow. She hadn’t told him she was leaving, because she didn’t want him to worry or try to further deteriorate his condition by coming along. He was supposed to stay still, and that was what she was going to allow him to do. She didn’t want him to overwork himself for her sake.

“Tell me, why must we patrol the walls? The beast will be weak from the poison, if not dead.” Barden asked a very irritated Ackerley as the two hung near the gates, walking along the top path on the walls with swords in hand. Barden, of course, saw no threat from the two ‘fugitives’ that were sure to come by the castle, if not tonight, then by tomorrow.

“We must not underestimate the girl. She is…something to be dealt with carefully.”

“A girl, barely a squire, and you are worried that she will be the one to destroy our plans?”

“Not so loud!” The fellow knight hissed as he looked about for any eavesdroppers. When he was sure that no one unwanted was listening in, he leaned menacingly in to the younger knight’s face.

“Listen, Barden, and listen well. They were strong enough to get free from our trap, and get away from our eyes. That alone merits them as dangerous, and until they are within our grasp, they are a very risky factor. That is why this is all the more necessary to make sure they do not come and reveal our plot. And, if what Rennard guesses comes to be, we may yet be able to rid ourselves of that beast.”

There was something very unsettling going on, that Dragon was sure of. For one, he could now feel touch/pressure in a dulled sense, and right away he realized that Jane was not where she had been when he had fallen asleep. And the fact that she was nowhere in sight also was jarring him out of his comfort zone. Atwood seemed to have taken a temporary leave of the premises as well, leaving the reptile in the company of his thoughts. This scenario could be decidedly bad, considering that one thing Dragon’s mind kept straying back to was What is going on?.

There was a light clatter as the door was pushed open, revealing a slightly muddled Atwood, with a large clay pot in his hands.

“Po’ion w’ll ne’er hea’ th’ way ye wan’ them ter…” He was muttering, not quite noticing Dragon for the moment. Not like the uneasy fire-breather was about to let it stay that way for much longer.

“Say, apothe- apo-, er, Atwood, do you happen to know where my friend Jane is?”

None of his fears were alleviated when he caught the uneasy look the crinkled face gave him.

“Sh’ wen’ ou’ ter th’ cas’le.”

Dragon’s heart stopped once those words escaped on the air, and for once he desperately wished that his hearing was impaired again.

“W-What? She left for the castle?!” His voice reached a hysteric pitch as he took in what the old man had just divulged. “B-but the other knights are there! Rennard will be there!! How does she expect to get past him?!”

“Sh’ say tha’ they ain’t lookin’ fer ‘er, so sh’ ‘ave a better chance’f getting’ in an’ tellin’ ‘er ment’r.” Atwood explained as best he could, backing up a few paces just to be safe. His statement had been meant to alleviate the reptile’s worries but he, if anything, looked even more frantic.

“Her mentor?! Old Rusty Legs isn’t going to be able to do a thing about the other knights!!” His tirade was immediately cut off when he tried to stand, but his limbs were still too weak to support his weight. The reptile came back down with a scratchy thud on the hay, mind in a worried mess.

Jane, what have you done?!

The young squire, meanwhile, was sneaking back into Kippernia Castle, preferably through a way that would not bring her too far into the knight’s quarters. Getting in through the front gates had been easy; there had been no century out just yet. This must have been in between shifts. The next part, and assuredly the hardest, was to get to Sir Theodore’s study without meeting up with any of the other knights. If she did…well, she didn’t want to think about that just yet.

Her crafty sneaking brought her over to the stables, where there was thankfully no one in sight. Smithy had to be busy in his forge. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her friends, she just knew that it would be easier if no one knew she was here, other than the person she was about to drop in on. Noting the fact that the door at the end of the stables was slightly ajar, Jane moved off to the right, where she knew there was a way up into the floor above. From there, it was a straight shot upstairs. The concealed red-head slipped quietly up the stairs to the next level, looking around before so much as putting a toe on the wooden floor.

She remembered the location of her mentor’s part of the knight’s quarters, and moved toward the supposed direction with absolute stealth. From what she could tell, there was barely anyone here.

A sudden snort from somewhere off to her right told her otherwise. Whirling around, she caught sight of a familiar portly knight laying on in a small space in the cornerish section of the room, cradling what looked like a small flail, the ball lying at a careful distance away.

Jane let out the breath she had been holding in, now turning her eyes to the door at the end of the hall.

Sir Theodore, Captain of the King’s Guard, was surprisingly unoccupied as he sat at his desk. If you looked more closely, however, his eyes told a different story. They were enclosed in sadness, and regret. Regret that he had never seen Dragon for what he was. Regret that he had never seen this tragedy coming. And a deeper lament, buried under eons and eons of clashing with claw and steel.

His hands flitted around the pieces of parchment, the quills, but in the end they found nothing to really stick to in order to stave off these emotions. Suddenly, a soft knock was heard on the door.

“Come in.”

If the old knight had been prepared for anything, it was certainly not the overly-familiar head of red hair that came peeking around the doorframe, the green eyes that scanned the room just to be sure her mentor was alone. From there she came in and quietly closed the door behind her. Before the old knight could even begin speaking, Jane’s mouth opened as a hail of words and what she hoped was a good phrasing of the explanation of exactly why she was here when the other knights had quite bluntly said that she was dead and that Dragon had killed her.

“…and they will not stop at anything to be rid of him, Sir. They have already tried to do it once, and they will surely try it again.”

The squire carefully studied her mentors face as she wrapped up her explanation, but could not make out anymore than one emotion per second, varying from surprise and disbelief to authority and austereness. Jane watched with bated breath as she attempted to determine which side her mentor was leaning to.

Sorry if the end feels slapped together, I had written out most of this beforehand, and then had to pull off. Either way, if you want to call me out on anything, don't hesitate. Reviews are also appreciated. Until next time.