by T D Raufson
“Again,” Kaliastrid stood up straighter and brought her hand up to her mouth, “what are you saying? You cast the spell that trapped dragons in human form?”
“I don’t know. My memories are a mess. For everything I remember, there is more detail that I can’t reach. I feel like I want to run into the street and scream sometimes because of the voids I can’t fill.”
She paused, unwilling to admit what she knew to her mother.
“That’s what’s happening with the others, the ones on the news.” Charles spoke for the first time and they both turned to look at him. Melissa felt a little relieved to have the attention drawn away from her admission.
“I was thinking about what was similar about all of the news stories and they all had a single thread that you just described. All of the lizard men and angry lizards on the news have acted the same way, as if they are desperate and confused. None of them are acting like the angry monsters the news is painting them as. They’re acting like lost children.”
Kaliastrid picked up the thread. “They were affected by the spell as well. Half-bloods have always been difficult to manage, but is seems they are worse off than dragons. We’re confused, but we’re not out in the streets going insane.”
Charles nodded.
Melissa stared at them both. She agreed with them, but there was something else. When her inner voice answered the question, she repeated it to the room. “They’re not supposed to be here. That’s why they’re acting weird.”
Kaliastrid turned back to her and pointed at her nodding her head. “You’re right.”
“They were all killed in the purge,” Charles added.
Again Melissa and Kaliastrid turned to face Charles and waited for him to explain how he knew what they had just figured out. How could Charles know about the purge?
He noticed how they were looking at him as he continued to consider the thought he had voiced and explained. “Helena told me. She told me several stories over the weeks before she died. She seemed to be dropping deeper and deeper into her own little world. When she wasn’t writing in that journal, she was telling me stories. Some days she spent all day telling me some fantastic tale. Those were the best and worst days.”
“What do you mean?” Kaliastrid asked.
“When she told me the stories she was very clear and precise. She seemed like she was present in the stories, as if she was remembering them instead of making them up. At the time, I thought she was telling me stories from her next book. Now, I’m not sure she wasn’t telling me stories from her past.”
“If she told you about the purge, she was telling you stories from our past,” Melissa said and sat down on the corner of the desk.
Her grandmother was a famous author of, ironically, dragon romances. She wrote love stories about dragons and kings in a time similar to the dark ages but with more magic and magical creatures.
“She wrote our history in those books?” Kaliastrid looked up from pondering the same thought Melissa was working on.
“I read some of them. I was never a fan. I didn’t like the way she wrote about women,” Melissa admitted.
“I thought they were degrading to our family and never cracked a cover.”
Melissa looked around her at the library her grandmother had amassed and all of the books that filled shelves across three floors of the manor house. Her grandmother had always been writing something. In the last years she seemed to be driven to get even more stories out instead of relaxing and enjoying her royalties from a very popular series. She looked around the room at all of the books her grandmother had collected. She remembered the times she would read to her on the back patio or up on the second floor while Melissa would sit in her lap in the big stuffed chair. Helena had left this to her for a reason. Melissa thought she had left her the house to keep it out of her father’s hands and that might still be partly right, but it was mostly because it contained references to where they came from.
“We have some reading to do.” Maybe she could find some answer about why they cast the spell in the first place. Maybe she could find out why their memories were all a jumble. Maybe she could find out what she had to do to put everything back into Pandora’s Box.
Chapter 4 - An Unnatural Truce
June 25 – 0630 EDT – Morristown, Tennessee
Nethliast flew through the early morning darkness enjoying the feeling of rebellion that pursued him. The feeling was a foreign, nagging sense that he was doing something wrong on his morning flight. He was a dragon. He was going to fly. He would not be trapped any longer, and he would show the humans what it meant to deal dishonestly with dragons. His father could wait for the guidance of his king. His mate could coddle her human lover. They could all continue the acts that had doomed them to this insult if they chose too, but he would not be involved in throwing away the future he could see ahead of them if they were all willing to rise together!
How long had it been since dragons ruled this world? How long had they languished under the humans’ thumb? Truthfully, he no longer cared. However long ago it had been, it had happened because dragons had lost their hunger for ruling. Nethliast did not share that with his draconic relatives. He was tired of trying to pry painful information out his memory to decide what to do. All he needed to know was self-evident. Humans had acted against dragons. They had to pay for their treachery. Nethliast could reconcile his actions with that.
The sun was rising in the east over fields that stretched between hills and through the valley below him. The green and golden glow of agriculture was interspersed between shopping malls and highways. Below him, he would find what he was looking for. He could feel this was where his quest would end. He could feel the presence he needed in the farm beneath him. It was calling to him and had been for nearly a day.
He dropped through the first rays of dawn toward the earth below him. As he approached the farmhouse, he leveled out and flew just above the trees and fields toward an old barn on the edge of an apple orchard. The large barn doors were open, and several people stood around a stone cistern in the floor. A woman, robed in an intricate cloak that predated the barn, stood in the center of the others and peered into the cistern. She was chanting something into the liquid in the shallow pool. Nethliast could see her lips moving in the distance, but her words were in his head.
Nethliast dug his claws into the moist soil just outside the barn and stopped his flight with his wings spread, filling the open doorway. The downdraft from his landing drove leaves, twigs, and dust into the circle. Several faces within the barn contorted with amazement and fear. Several lost their focus and cowered at his arrival. They should not doubt their high priestess who stood her ground as the detritus of his arrival swirled around her.
He said nothing but waited as they adjusted to his arrival. The high priestess lowered her arms, allowing the glistening, metallic robe to drop around her and encase her in a shimmering pattern of dragon scales. The look on her face was arrogant. Nethliast let a growl of disapproval escape his clenched jaw.
The high priestess dropped to the floor before him. The others who were not already cowering followed her example and prostrated themselves. The high priestess’ cloak flowed out around her crouching form and reminded Nethliast of a dragon’s wings. He looked closer and noted how the intricate needlework of the cloak knotted together in places to constrict and release the silken and translucent material. The article of clothing was ancient; probably handed down over the generations to this woman who lay before him. He did not take the time to see if it was magical.
He was not sure if she could hear his thoughts, but he reached out to the distant connection. She had appeared in his mind, and a longing he had struggled with suddenly felt relieved. He needed to find her. Here she was, a sad disappointment, really. She was human, pure human, not even partial dragon. His mind and desire felt soiled by her humanity.
“Why have you called me?”
“We have reached out to worship you, my lord. You ha
ve come here to find your devoted followers. We are yours to command.”
Nethliast sat back and looked at the motley group of six humans. What did he need with a devoted band of humans?
“How did you find me? How can we talk?”
“I’ve sensed the confusion. I’ve sensed things are not right. I reached your mind and found what was missing in the others.”
“Other dragons?”
“I am but your servant, lord. I assume the others are less than you. Their minds were pure chaos. When I touched them, they ran from me. You are the strong lord we need. Teach us to be your dragon kin.”
He roared at the insult of humans being, somehow, related to him. The entire group shivered.
“Forgive me, lord. We are not worthy to be your kin. Let us be your worshipful followers. Command us and we will do what is your will.”
“Show me these other minds you have contacted. I wish to see who among my kind may be in need of my guidance. You have reached out to the King of the Dragons. You shall be my loyal subjects. You will do as I instruct.”
“As you command, lord. We are your humble servants.”
Nethliast relished the worship of this group. It was a salve to his injured pride. Perhaps some humans would be allowed to live and serve him as his royal advisors.
“Show me.”
The high priestess bowed to him and motioned toward the cistern and the water that filled it. As the rays of the sun finally fell upon the tops of the trees, Nethliast transformed. He shrank to the stature of a human form covered from shoulder to foot in enamel-black armor of interlocking scale plates that covered his form closely. The scales and plates made no noise as he crossed the dirt floor and joined the priestess by the pool. The other worshipers gaped at him as he walked past them.
“What do I call you?”
“I…” She stumbled on the words, suddenly losing confidence in what she was saying. She cleared her throat. “Please call me Ariela, my lord.”
“Very well, Ariela. Show me what you can.”
She blushed at him and motioned a hand over the cistern without looking away. The waters churned but showed nothing. He looked up at her with impatience and pointed to the pool. She shook her head, grinned apologetically, and stared into the waters until the image before them became clear. They were watching a young man, not much older than Nethliast’s human form. He was calming and directing a collection of men and women who were covered with different levels of scales and tails. Each one he eventually secured into a stable stall before he returned to the door to address them all.
“He was not this calm yesterday, my lord. Something has changed here.”
She focused, and the pool shifted to another scene. This one was disturbing. In the center of a dark room a reptilian man, covered in scales and with a long nosed dragon’s head, sat laughing.
“He has not moved in two days.”
Panic filled the laughter. Blood streaked the walls around him. Bodies, Nethliast counted four of them, laid around him.
Ariela focused several more times showing him similar scenes, some more disturbing and others as placid as the first one, before she waved her hand over the waters. They stopped churning.
“It’s different today. Many are calmer than they have been. Several have moved to a new location. Many of the ones I just reached out to were in the same place. The first one has been collecting them together.”
Nethliast turned from the pool and walked out into the morning sunlight. The fellowship reshaped around him and followed him out into the morning. He smiled.
“Ariela, can you locate these groups, the ones who are banding together?”
“Yes, my lord. They are near us here. I had to reach out further to find you.”
“How far can you reach?”
“I’ve not found a limit yet.”
“I want you to find them all.” An idea was forming in Nethliast’s mind, and this woman was going to help him. “Identify the most stable of them. Can you direct me to them? Can you communicate with them like you have me?”
“It’s chaotic, my lord. They are not as stable as you are. I’m not sure they will hear me.”
“Work with the best of them. I will have more to share with them soon.”
“To what end?”
The question surprised him. He turned on Ariela with a caustic look. She shrank from him but held his gaze.
“Why do you question me?”
“To aide you better, my lord. If you have a goal in mind, I can help you reach it if I understand it.”
“Find others who, like me, can sense you. Share my magnificence with them. Be my evangelist. The group that is mustering together is an example. I want to know where they are. I want to visit them. I want others like them.”
“Yes, my lord. I understand.”
Nethliast turned from her and looked at the others surrounding him. They were all showing the appropriate amount of deference. They were starting to make him think there were useful humans among the masses of uselessness. He sneered at the thought and one of the devout cringed away from him. Nethliast marked the man as weak and pointed at him. He fell away from the finger as if it were a sword. The cowering enraged Nethliast further. His followers could not be weak.
“Banish that one. He is not worthy of your league. I cannot use any who would cower at a finger, even mine.” His order was indiscriminate, all of them were cowering and whimpering about his feet, but there was a cost to follow him as a human.
The circle around Nethliast acted very quickly. They closed ranks around him blocking out the weakling without looking back at him or speaking. The look on the man’s face salved Nethliast’s anger. Amongst the fear, there was anger on the man’s face, but he said nothing and backed away. Pack animals were easy to manipulate, and these would understand the pain of being outcast from now on. Dragons had never suffered from that weakness. Those found unfit to be among dragons were killed; there was no reason to allow them to clutch. He shrugged and turned to look at his new Priestess.
“Show me where I can find this first brood.”
June 25 – 0800 EDT – Morristown, Tennessee
Nethliast landed in the cornfield on the outskirts of Knoxville. His large black bulk settled heavily, shredding the high corn beneath outstretched wings. The crunch of the stalks under his feet felt funny. This was where Ariela had directed him. As he flew low over the trees, he had started to sense in his own mind the connection with them. He almost hated partials more than he hated humans. This hatred was instinctive. They were an abomination. The ever-present, painful irritation in the back of his mind told him dragons eradicated them ages ago. Why they had returned was as much a puzzle to him as how the humans had trapped dragons. Using them both to achieve his goals was poetic to Nethliast.
His namesake would be proud. No dragon in the history he could remember had done more to protect the race from humans. He deserved the honor. Everyone would again remember him for putting humans in their place. No dragon would stand against the message the name sent, but he had to be careful with partials.
Partials were not dragons. They weren’t human either. They were a blend of human and dragon created by the magical interbreeding that happened when dragons spent time amongst humans in their form. Varying portions of each species over time created infinite versions ranging from a human who looked nothing like a dragon but manifested draconic powers to a human who could transform to a fully armored dragon form of their human body including small, still functional, wings that would allow some lift over a short distance. Nethliast laughed to himself at how much Melissa would like the idea of partials. It was the result of her human loving. Occasionally there were a few other things thrown in. With the right mix and the right magic, you got a crazy basilisk, and they were a problem for Nethliast. Basilisks were too close to real dragon form. It was not hard for the weak human mind to leap that giant gulf between the two and start looking for dragons. Nethliast didn’t need them looking f
or dragons right now.
Partials were unfocused in their rioting. They were a wonderful distraction and a painful side effect of whatever magic the humans had used to build their snare. However, a smart investigator might be able to find an important lead if he looked hard enough. Therefore, they had to settle down, but that was the tricky part. Areila had given him the key without really knowing it. She had also reminded him that dragons could reach out to other dragons with their mind. Nethliast grinned at an odd human memory about humans and their pets; Humans had no idea how many creatures around them communicated telepathically.
“Do you know what you are?” He reached out to the partial who should be in the farmhouse.
“Not what I was a few days ago. Who are you and why are you talkin’ to me like this?”
“A friend.”
“Friends don’t hide and whisper. Where you at?”
“I’m in your field, friend.”
Nethliast stood tall at the fence and made himself fully visible to the house. He sniffed the air. Livestock was penned here. The smell of animal fear filled the air, and they had been afraid for a long time. He tried to filter the exhilarating scent to see what else was there. In his next breath, he found the other smells. The mingled scent of human and dragon was vile. They were here just as she had shown him.
A door on the back porch opened. What looked mostly like a man walked out and stopped in the shadow of the roof. He was wearing overalls and a straw hat that hid his face. He was older. Nethliast tested the air again. He had seen this place in the cistern, but he could never be too careful.
“Come on up,” the man called from the porch. Sleeves covered his arms, but Nethliast could see that scales covered his hands. Sunlight glinted off the black claws at the end of his hands. A passing glance would not reveal those signs, and this man would vanish into the scene of the farm. He was a smart old man.