by Kevin Potter
The cycle continued. The second strike almost always embedded in his flesh, while the first did not. Once, however, both did so, and he shrieked helplessly when both dragons yanked on their implements at once.
The stitching of his jaw proceeded slowly, the pain increasing with each new stitch. But he continued to make steady, if slow, progress.
A dozen blows in, he found he was slowly recovering the ability to move his lower jaw as he directed.
Glancing down into the reflective puddle of his dried blood, he found his jaw was in a touch more normal of a position, though that odd protrusion was still there. It wasn’t likely his efforts would help with that, however.
It won’t be long now, he thought as another blow struck his back. He took it without complaint and without slowing his stitching.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At long last, Gravv completed the stitching in his jaw. His mouth bled freely, inside and out, but it moved almost normally once more. His blood surged in triumph.
Once more, one of the wyrms yanked out a metal chunk embedded in his back and were it not for the sweet victory of the moment, he would have shrieked in agony.
“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH, YOU SNIVELING, SADISTIC BASTARDS!” he roared at the top of his voice. He surprised even himself with the power it held.
The next blow did not come. One of the wyrms gasped, an implement clattering to the cavern floor, and the other growled low in his throat.
That’s something, at least.
The azurite slowly stepped around to face him and his eyes went wide.
“Not only does the mystery dragon speak, but he’s also maimed himself.” He sounded more impressed than appalled.
“Well if you idiots knew a platinum dragon when you see one, I wouldn’t have had to do that, now would I?” Gravv said with all the indignant rage he could muster. It was all he could do not to let this dragon see the agony he only just kept at bay. Or how weak his time here had left him. If not for the restraints holding him, he felt certain he would have collapsed.
“And I’m supposed to believe–”
“I don’t give a wyvern’s teat what you believe! Release me now and perhaps I won’t have you put here in my place!”
“And why would I do that?” the azurite asked, eying him more closely. “You’re just a nobody claiming to be a nobody plat.”
Gravv forced a chuckle from his lips. “Lots of platinum families running around these days, are there?”
The azurite narrowed amber-and-crimson eyes at him.
“You’ve guessed at least part of the truth already,” Gravv said. “I’m half platinum and half garnet.” Even had he wanted to, he would not have been able to keep the pride from his voice. “Your lord, Balhamuut, is my uncle. My dam’s clutch-mate. I’d suggest you listen, if you have any interest in a future outside of taking my place here.”
The azurite laughed. “Spoken like a true nameless, faceless adolescent who knows nothing.”
Gravv growled softly.
“Terrifying,” the celestine hissed from his other side.
“Listen here, little kelp,” the azurite said. “What guarantees us a future is doing as we’re told. And we were told to make your life consist of an ongoing cycle of pain and anticipation of pain until you’re large enough to make a good meal. So kindly shut up so we can get back to work.” He turned to move back behind Gravv.
What?
Pushing the confused thought away, Gravv fought through his desperation and forced as much confidence into his tone as he could. “They didn’t know who I am! I promise you, if he knows I am his nephew, Balhamuut will change your instructions.”
The azurite stopped, then turned and went back to the alcove ahead of Gravv. He sat down the torturous implement and Gravv breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Then the dragon picked up another, almost identical implement. This one, however, ended in razor-sharp plates of platinum scales rather than crude lumps of metal.
Oh, gods, no!
“Wait! Please!” he shrieked. “My dam is Kwallindauria. Balhamuut is her clutch-mate and Baalhalllu was their sire. My sire is Graayyyavalll, an ancient garnet who once ruled Prydein. I don’t know his sire’s name, nor his clutch-mate’s. Both were killed when my dam rescued him from their sire, who’d gone mad.” By this time, Gravv bawled in terror, so desperate to escape the torture chamber he no longer cared what these dragons thought of him.
“My clutch-mate is Balhalumuut and I am Graavvyynaustaiur. My family has been living in Antarctica since before I was born! Please! Tell Balhamuut my story and ask him what to do! I swear you won’t be punished!”
Taking a breath of air, Gravv plunged on with his plea, though now he was so far into the throes of terror that his words came out as little more than gibberish. “I swear you’ll be rewarded for finding me! He’ll be pleased, I swear it!”
The other two dragons moved behind him and spoke. He clearly heard their voices, but couldn’t make out their words over his choking sobs.
It seemed as though an eternity passed before the voices quieted and Gravv’s heaving sobs stilled.
Finally, he breathed normally again and his vision cleared.
But now there was nothing to see or hear. The chamber was still and silent. He sensed no one and nothing living inside the cavern beyond himself.
Relief and terror warred for dominance of his emotions.
Where did those two go? Did they listen? Did they believe me? Are they going to Balhamuut even now, or are they going to bring more wyrms in, just to shut me up while they torture me to death?
The wait was interminable. For all the confidence he’d felt when he had begun his tirade, he was far less than certain of the reception he would get from Balhamuut. What if the meeting between the Lord and Gravv’s parents had gone badly and the wyrm now wanted nothing to do with his family? What would happen then? What would become of him? Would the platinum consume him the way he had consumed Abby?
He shivered at the thought.
Gravv slumped against the tension holding his limbs in place. Even through the extreme exhaustion, liquid fire ignited in his wounds again. His entire back seemed covered in acidic magma and his jaw ached. He felt certain it was swollen to three times its normal size.
He groaned softly and wished for the thousandth time he had the raw power required to use his magic to heal his wounds or even just to ease the pain a bit.
Clawed footfalls sounded from down the tunnel and Gravv’s heart leaped into his throat.
Which will it be? he wondered. Are they coming to release me or will they renew the torture with a vengeance? I doubt I would survive another round.
The footfalls came closer and with every step Gravv’s pulse grew more rapid. Heat rose from his belly up into his chest and neck, and his pulse throbbed behind his eyes.
Oh, for the love of the Astral Dragon, hurry up! Whatever my fate is to be, let’s get on with it!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gravv lay flat on his belly in a side chamber off Balhamuut’s main lair. His wounds stung from the application of a salve the platinum’s humans assured him would aid in healing and reduce the intensity of his pain.
So far, though, if it had any effect at all it wasn’t enough to notice.
The torturers had been forced to drag him from the torture chamber, as he’d been too weak to help in any meaningful way.
Since they’d deposited him here, he’d lain in the same spot without so much as altering the angle of a leg or a wing. The agony was too intense, his exhaustion too complete, to allow any voluntary movement.
“So this is the great Graavvyynaustaiur,” said a mocking voice from the entryway.
Gravv wanted to rise, to retort, to shriek his rage, but the weakness was too much. An angry flick of his eyelids was the best he could do.
“I would have expected a progeny of those two to have the raw arcane strength to blast his way free of that pr
ison, killing any and every dragon who got in his way.”
Gravv tried to tilt his head in a show of nonchalance, but even that small movement was beyond him.
“Or at least have the ability to heal those ghastly wounds. But instead, I find a pathetic dragonling who relies on invoking his familial connections to get him out of the mess, and the chemical concoctions of humans,” he spat the word with disgust. “To help him heal. It really is quite embarrassing.”
To Infernalis with you, bastard.
“Now, now, nephew. That truly is unkind.”
GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Gravv shrieked silently.
Not going to happen.
Gravv projected a sigh in his mind. Then why should I care if I’m being unkind?
“Why, in spite of how we may feel about one another, the fact remains that we are blood family. Surely, you’d like to hear what I have to say.”
Even in his current state, Gravv knew the words were not a question. But he couldn’t seem to curb his antipathy. And if I don’t?
“If you truly wish to continue this, I can always put you back where I found you. You are here as a courtesy to my sweet sister, nephew. Can’t we put the past behind us and try to get along for her sake?”
Gravv sighed, then cringed with the bolts of agony it shot up and down his body.
Balhamuut chuckled.
Gravv scowled, maintaining his silence for a long while.
Yes, he thought at last. For Dam’s sake, I will do that. Let us put past offenses behind us and start anew.
Gravv made a private note to ensure he censored his thoughts around the platinum wyrm going forward. He couldn’t let on to the Lord that he knew exactly what had happened to Abby, as well as the countless others he felt certain had died the same way.
“Good,” Balhamuut said. “That would have been unfortunate.”
Gravv breathed a shallow sigh. So what happens now?
“Our first order of business is to get you healed and presentable. I certainly can’t let my incredibly overprotective sister and her mate see you in this sad state. That would be disastrous, for us all.
You have a healer, I assume?
“No.”
Um… then how…?
“I’m afraid I have been without a skilled healer for quite some time. With luck, a good one will enter my service soon. Until then, however, I’m afraid your only recourse is to heal the natural way with a bit of help from my human servants.” The Lord seemed incapable of referring to his humans without the note of disgust entering his voice.
And unless I am much mistaken about the extent of my wounds, that is likely to be months. Or longer.
“Likely longer. In truth, the spikes aren’t likely to grow back on their own at all. Some of the scales will, but not all of them. As to the rest, you are overly optimistic, nephew. It could easily be a year or several before you are fully healed.”
Wondrous.
Balhamuut stepped around and turned to face Gravv. The Lord arched his neck downward to look Gravv in the eyes and smiled. The platinum’s glowing crimson within dull gray eyes were disconcerting to look upon.
“In the interim, I believe we will work on your sorely lacking education, youngling. You must learn to care for your own well-being without the intervention of your parents or an old, eccentric uncle.”
Gravv only just stopped himself from groaning. Do you always monitor the thoughts of other dragons?
“Of course.”
Of course, Gravv echoed. He struggled to keep the sarcasm from his thoughts.
Balhamuut’s lips turned up in a toothy, malicious grin.
When does my education begin?
“No time like the present,” Balhamuut said, bubbling with excitement. “I believe you are aware of the process of essence transference?” he added with a wink.
“What?” Gravv whispered in a weak rasp, his shock forcing him to speak aloud. “What is that?”
“Come now,” Balhamuut said, his deep voice dripping with scorn. “I know you witnessed your friend’s… ascension. You should be proud. His feat was impressive.” The platinum paused, the excited light faded from his eyes and his voice turned deadly serious. “Don’t play stupid with me, youngling. I have enough difficulty tolerating true stupidity. I have no patience for it when it is feigned.”
Gravv gulped, rather louder than he’d intended, and gave a weak nod. I don’t believe I caught the entire process.
“Not surprising,” the Lord said. “It is a complicated ritual. This will be your first lesson.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Platinum Lord walked Gravv through the basics of the ritual, then spent hours pushing and prodding at Gravv, quizzing and correcting him on every detail of the process until he had committed the entire ritual to memory.
I’ll never use it, Gravv thought privately. Even if I could.
The arcane strength required to make use of the ritual in a practical way was impressive, and he had never had any illusions about his own strength in that area. From the time of his hatching, it had been clear that his inherent arcane strength was much less that it should have been, especially considering his parentage.
“And now for the practical test,” Balhamuut said.
Um, what? Aloud, he whispered, “What do you mean?”
“We have to be sure you understand the process.”
“How?” Gravv asked, genuinely perplexed. Balhamuut didn’t truly expect him to use the ritual, did he? Surely, the Lord had to know that actually using the power would be far beyond Gravv’s ability. Didn’t he?
Instead of answering, the platinum stretched his wing toward the entrance to the cavern and beckoned. After a moment, clawed footsteps sounded, growing closer with each step. Gravv’s breath caught in his throat. Balhamuut couldn’t truly expect him to do this right now could he?
Within moments a small garnet dragon entered Gravv’s field of vision. The short dragon was slender as dragons went, with a delicate snout and gently curving, razor-sharp claws. Although her deep scarlet scales shone with an inner light, they seemed but dull, pale pink when compared against those of his sire.
He quickly stamped out the twinge of frustrated despair when he thought of the great dragon. Forcing the thoughts away, he focused his attention on the garnet dragon before him. Her sleek form was unlike any dragon he had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat.
In spite of being part garnet himself, Gravv found his attraction to the young dragon a bit uncomfortable. He had always thought of himself as a platinum dragon.
“Gravvy, this is Corvyauss. She’s going to help you.”
The garnet smiled and Gravv felt sick as his gaze roved, quite involuntarily, up and down her length.
“No,” Gravv gasped, his voice coming ragged and raspy.
“No?” Balhamuut asked with a malicious grin. “I’m fairly certain I was clear on this before.”
“I won’t do it.”
The platinum’s smile widened, showing more glistening teeth. He snaked his tail around the garnet’s body and gripped her neck in both paws, yanking her head back. Her expression remained serene.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. Disobedience will not be tolerated. You will do as you are told, or I will deliver your broken body to your dam in very small pieces. Corvyauss,” he added gently as he turned his head to look at the young garnet. “Would you object to my breaking your neck? Killing you, right here and now?”
“Not at all, Lord. My life is yours to do with as you see fit.”
“You see?” Balhamuut asked, turning back to face Gravv. “Obedience. Pure, beautiful, powerful.”
Gravv gulped.
“Ordinarily, I would not waste one so young for this purpose. I trust you understand that the ritual only reaches its true potential when used on a mature dragon with considerable arcane power. It is better to let them age a few centuries first.”
Gravv gasped in an ef
fort to speak, but found his shock had usurped his voice.
“Even you, dear nephew, are not nearly old enough to be of much use. To say nothing of your almost complete lack of arcane power.”
Gravv glared, his mind whirling.
He stopped, realizing the thoughts twirling through his head would be plain to the great platinum. With effort, he forced his mind to clear.
I haven’t the power to oppose him, he thought. Clearing his expression, he gave a slight nod.
“Now,” the platinum said gently, as though he hadn’t noticed the mental battle. “It is time, nephew.” With a casualness that sickened Gravv, his uncle slashed glittering claws across the young garnet’s throat from opposite directions. Her fiery, scarlet blood sprayed Gravv as well as the walls of the chamber. A few of the droplets dripped into his still-open wounds, bringing a fresh wave of burning agony to his aching wounds.
With a placid smile splitting her snout, Corvyauss’s head drooped as blood gushed down her body. After a few moments her neck bent almost in half, her head falling to the scales of her belly.
“Do it!” Balhamuut growled, his tail still wrapped about the garnet’s body, holding her upright.
Gravv wanted to challenge, he wanted to disobey. He wanted to somehow save the garnet dragonling.
But I’m weak, he thought in fear, and felt disgusted by that fear. Disgusted with himself. He wanted so much to be valiant. To be courageous. But here and now, he was terrified of Balhamuut. There was no escaping the truth of that, especially in his currently weakened state. Standing up to the massive platinum wyrm would accomplish not a thing. He would only die in a useless gesture of rebellion.
He hated himself for knowing it, but even more for accepting it as reality.
With gut-wrenching reluctance, he did as he was bid and delved into his Apex for the power. What little he could muster.
This isn’t going to work. Why can’t he see that? He quite obviously knows of my lack of arcane power.
“Hurry,” Balhamuut said in excitement. “Before the spirit flees its body.”
Syphoning energy from his Apex, Gravv began the long and complex ritual which would end— if it worked —in his theft of the poor, young dragon’s spirit and arcane energy.