The tiniest cracks appeared in five of the dragon’s eggs … all except for the smallest one. Albino coiled his bony tail around his body and backed against the wall. Cracks spidered across the eggs’ shells and a red-haired maid hurried into the room with two blonds towering after her. The time had indeed come.
Standing next to the redhead, Patient leaned with both hands on his staff.
“Gwen, Helen!” The redhead combed her shoulder-length tresses away from her forehead and her green eyes darted up at the other maids. She jabbed her finger toward one of the eggs and hustled to it, a towel thrown over her arm. “This one is coming first. Be ready with the swaddling blankets.”
“Yes, Mum!” the women answered in unison. Their bright blue eyes seemed to intently follow the redhead. They had long, gold hair that fell straight down their backs to their narrow waists.
“Elsie,” Albino said to the redhead.
“Yes, my lord?” The middle-aged woman glanced over her shoulder at him. Her green eyes started to wander back to the eggs, drawn like magnets to the sounds of additional cracks forming.
The dragon pointed with his claw at the egg in front of her. “Pry away the shell so that the child may come forth.”
Elsie tossed the towel over Helen’s arm, and faced the egg. Gingerly, she pushed the fingers of both hands into one of the cracks and pulled.
Suddenly, the shell collapsed outward. Elsie, some of her weight resting on the shell, slipped on the floor. She fell on her back with a startled cry as blood and multicolored fluids rushed from the egg and covered her from her neck to her feet.
Helen and Gwen stood like statues. But Albino spotted a sac flow out of the broken eggshell and drop toward the marble floor. Helen and Gwen did not appear to notice. They gawked at Elsie as she lay on the floor.
Albino growled, thrust his mighty arm past them, and caught the sac in the palm of his clawed fist. It wobbled in his palm; wet, fragile, threatening to burst open. If it had been allowed to hit the marble—
Standing to her feet, dripping red and green-gray liquid, Elsie swallowed her embarrassment. “My lord, I am so sorry … I just … did not expect—”
“There is no need to apologize,” he said, but he flared his nostrils at Helen and Gwen. They apologized profusely and bowed, backing away.
Albino reached out with his free foreleg, held one of his claws in front of his mouth and heated it with his breath until it glowed like an iron poker plucked from a furnace. Using this claw, he broke the sac, freeing the child inside.
“My lord!” Elsie’s mouth opened wide. Her green eyes stared in disbelief.
Beside the dragon, the shepherd chuckled. “I dare say you have surprised your staff.”
Elsie shook her head and reached out as the dragon cut the child’s umbilical cord with the heated claw. “She … she is human! How is this possible?”
“Yes, they all are.” Albino allowed Helen to take the child and swaddle it.
“A baby girl,” Elsie said as soon as she recovered her senses. “Have you chosen a name for her, my lord?”
“This one?” The dragon looked down at the softly crying baby. “She is the eldest. I will name her Caritha, for she will lead her sisters in the days that follow their sorrow.”
“The days of their sorrow?” Elsie might have asked more, but the dragon shook his head and looked at the other eggs.
“Ask for no explanations,” he rumbled. “Bring her to the nursery, Helen. And return quickly. My children will not wait.”
Helen rushed to carry out her master’s bidding, all the while humming to baby Caritha and shushing her to sleep.
As soon as Helen’s footsteps faded down the hallway, four more eggs started to hatch. The spidery cracks that had formed on their shells, now spread like webs, weakening the casing that had kept the dragon’s offspring in darkness.
Elsie hurried to each egg and pulled the shell apart. Having learned from her first efforts, she kept her footing. Soon she and Gwen had their hands full, lifting the four new arrivals into the world.
The straw soaked up much of the liquids that burst from the eggs, but the hem of Elsie’s skirt and her slippers were drenched.
Patient stepped forward as Gwen gathered up a second baby. He took the next one, wrapping it in a corner of his white robe.
After cutting each of the infants’ from their sacs, and severing their umbilical cords, Albino held the last of the four arrivals in his palm.
“My goodness, they are all girls!” Elsie said.
“Yes,” he rumbled softly. And he laughed as the child squirmed in his palm and screamed beyond reason. “You, my dear child, are alike in beauty to your sisters, yet you have an indomitable spirit … You will be called Rose’el.”
Gazing at each of the other three infants in turn, he chose their names. One he called Laura. “You, my daughter,” he said, “will achieve victory by supporting your sisters.”
“And you, my littlest one.” He nuzzled his next daughter. “You will be called Evela. For, you must nurture a tender heart and sound mind to fulfill the meaning of that name.”
The other maid returned and took Rose’el from him and the unnamed child from Patient. As the red little face passed under his scrutiny, Albino called her Levena. “For I do not know what else to call you. This name carries with it all my love, for it means ‘one whose destiny is uncertain, yet whose path is blessed by Creator God.’“
Thanking the maids for all their help, Albino bid them bring the four new arrivals to the nursery and summon the wet nurses.
“We will return quickly, my lord.” Elsie trudged toward the doorway.
With a gentle touch of his claw, the dragon held her back for a moment. “No. You, Helen, and Gwen have done enough for now … It is my desire to bring this last child into the world with only Patient as witness.
“See to the needs of my first five children.” He pulled back his hand, releasing her. He shifted his gaze toward the last egg. It budged ever so slightly in the hay. This child was ready to leave the confines of her shell. “Go now, Elsie … I want to bring this one into the world, myself.”
Elsie shuffled out of the room. Helen and Gwen, arms occupied by his crying offspring, made awkward half curtsies, and then followed.
Together the dragon and the shepherd approached the final egg … the smallest egg.
The dragon touched it with the tips of his claws. His body glowed with white light. Brighter and brighter he glowed, until rays of light radiated from between his scales.
Raising his hand, Patient shielded his eyes.
With his body throwing blinding, pure light, Albino felt the power in his blood boil. It surged through him. Electrical bolts of energy crackled on his hand and latched onto the egg. They entwined, meshed, knit their way around the shell until they covered it.
His claws penetrated the shell without cracking or breaking it. They passed inside and gently clasped the sac. In that instant, Albino let the energy building in his hand, explode outward from his claws. The egg crumbled into dust, the liquids evaporated, but he lifted the sac from the midst unharmed.
Drawing the sac closer to him, he cut it open and severed the infant’s cord. Patient reached over and dried her body with his robe. Albino picked up a clean cloth lying near the straw and wrapped his child in it.
As her first cry sounded like a note of music in the quiet room, he said in a low, gentle voice, “Welcome, my youngest daughter. Welcome into the world, my little Dantress.”
Albino sliced through the thunderhead cloud. His powerful wings reached forward and pulled back with methodic rhythm, propelling him ever faster to the far reaching fields of green and the palace built thereon. He dipped under the waving banners to land in one of his flower gardens, and strode past the tall bright spires.
Warm, midday air blew steadily across his bony face. Songbirds of varying colors and sizes landed on his back. He strolled down a broad, stone path until he came to a bench on which sat a little
dark haired girl. “Hello, my child.” He stretched out his neck and smiled down at her.
Dantress closed a leather bound book she’d been reading and set it on the bench beside her. The spine spelled out Fairies: Blessings or Pests?
“Father, when can I fly with you again?” Dantress turned her pleading dark eyes to him. “Please, I promise to be good!”
He chuckled at that. When was she ever bad? He looked around the garden for his other daughters. Two heads bounced into view behind a long, high hedge.
“Come on, Laura,” he heard Evela say. “When do I get a turn?”
“Humph!” Rose’el responded. “Her turn ended an hour ago.”
“Be quiet you two,” Laura said. “You’ll get your turns soon enough. Levena and I aren’t ready yet.”
Albino shook his head. Fatherhood, he never would’ve guessed how complicated it could be. He took a step toward the squabbling sisters. “I’ll be right back, my child,” he caressed Dantress’s cheek with the broad side of his claw.
“Yes, Father.” She picked up Fairies, Blessings or Pests? and continued to read from a quarter way through the thick volume.
From behind the hedge Rose’el and Laura exchanged heated retorts. He sighed; Dantress was an angel, truly, beside the others. Though Evela, also, rarely offered complaints or argument.
Caritha’s voice interrupted the argument behind the hedge. “All of you, be silent!”
The sisters quieted as if a spell had been cast upon them and Albino craned his neck, glimpsing his oldest daughter striding stern-faced toward Evela, Laura, Levena, and Rose’el, who all stood as if soldiers rebuked by a commander warrior.
“Shame on you, Laura and Rose’el. What a ruckus! I could hear you from the other side of the garden!” She raised her hand and pointed at Laura. “Trade places with Evela. Let her take a turn jumping the rope. Levena, did you get a turn?”
Levena shook her head.
“Very well then! Rose’el, give your end to Levena. …”
Chuckling deep in his throat, Albino stepped back to Dant-ress’s side. “No jumping rope today?”
“Jump rope?” She puckered her face in disgust. “I’d much rather go with you to the forest.” She set aside the book, slipped a leaf between its pages and stood on the bench, hands folded. “Please, can’t you take me?”
Feigning resignation he sighed, picked her up, and set her on his head. “Hold on tight.” As her little fists grasped his horns, he raced down the path, spread his wings, and jumped into the air. He could hear her yelling with glee and begging him to go faster.
He climbed higher into the sky and swerved east. The land sped beneath him. The fields gave way to trees and then to thick forests. Justice Hill, a high plateau richly dressed in flowers and green grass with a lake at its center, rose above the lush forests of his domain. Here his ancestors had laid the foundation of law upon which he had established his kingdom.
The ground raced toward him as he approached. He leaned back, angled his wings, landed on the soft earth, digging in his claws for an easy halt by the lake. Into his ear Dantress sighed. He chuckled; she always liked it when he landed, but she preferred it to be more dramatic with the dirt flying and his claws slicing deep into the ground.
“We are here, my little one,” he said. He knelt and she slid off his back, catching her hand on one of his scales in the process. “Ouch!” She sucked on the cut and looked sheepish; he’d warned her about doing that.
He strode several paces and motioned with an inclination of his head for her to follow. “The trails into the forest are well hidden to most eyes,” he said. “Stay close to me and do not wander off.”
The plateau’s edge sloped at a rather steep angle to the wall of trees at its base, some sixty feet down. The smell of pine filled his nostrils as he descended to the needle-strewn forest floor and squeezed between two of the sappy tree trunks. Before him now lay a sunlit, straight, narrow path. Narrow, that is, for a dragon. Yellow and purple flowers lined the way, each blossom releasing its own perfume into the gentle breezes that stole around his feet.
Dantress danced ahead of him into a woodland clearing, startling a flock of gold finches and robins feeding in the grass. She started after them, but he held her back. “Stand still, my child. Let them come to you.” She stopped, stood still, fixed her gaze on the trees.
The moments seemed to drag by as the birds deliberated with one another. Albino smiled at a large, red-gold cardinal that landed on a nearby branch. “Good day to you, Flame! May I introduce the youngest of my daughters?”
“This is your youngest, Sire? This is Dantress?”
“She is indeed.”
Flame stretched out his wing and preened a feather, then turned one black, shiny, accusing eye at the child. “Since you are the offspring of the great dragon I am compelled to welcome you to our Sanctuary, though your behavior thus far gives me reason to doubt that the noble blood truly runs through your veins.”
“There now, Flame, she meant no harm.” Albino put his clawed hand reassuringly around Dantress’s shoulders. “She was merely playing.”
Flame hung his head in shame. “Forgive me, Sire! I did not mean … I only thought … I’ve acted like an unhatched chick … but she is with you, of course.” He flew to Dantress’s shoulder and balanced himself there. “Welcome to our Sanctuary, Dant-ress, and please forgive me for any insult I dealt you.”
She stroked Flame’s fluffed chest feathers and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Ah! Such a fine massage.”
Flame remained on her shoulder and others soon joined him. Before long she had managed to befriend the majority of the flock; some she caressed and others she engaged in conversation. They boasted of their nests and of their offspring, they told her how pretty and sweet they thought she was. When Albino said it was time to go the birds sang her off. Even Flame waved his red-gold wing as they left the clearing and continued walking down the trail.
Not far down the trail they came to a broad river. Albino stretched over it and anchored his forefeet in the mud. His rear legs splashed into the cool, fast-flowing water. “Climb over my back,” he instructed.
First grabbing onto his tail, Dantress pulled herself up and walked across, arms spread wide for balance. Though his scales were hard as iron he felt her feet cautiously stepping on his spine. She walked onto his head and down his snout then stepped onto the trail on the other side of the river.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet some more friends of mine,” he said as he pulled himself up and shook the river water off his underside. Leaving the river behind, he led her deeper into the forest. No pines stood along this path, only white birch and oaks. Clover, green as in new spring, covered the ground on either side of the crushed stones covering the path.
An ancient tree, its trunk as thick as Albino’s body, had fallen across the way. “Up you go.” Albino picked her up and set her on top of the log. He leapt to the other side before helping her down.
He knew, further up the path, the trees gave way to a wide, open meadow. He forced his powerful legs to slow to Dantress’s pace. When they arrived at the meadow—filled with all manner of colorful flowers set upon by butterflies—he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Ah, it was wonderful to be alive!
When he opened his eyes deer and antelope, a bear, a lion, and a gazelle pushed their way into view. They carried themselves proudly, yet each, in turn, lowered their head in respectful recognition of his presence. He dipped his head back at them and rumbled deep in his throat, proudly drawing their attention to the fair child accompanying him.
Dantress pushed a long, dark tress out of her eyes. Wolves trotted forward now, too, bowing to her, then vanished back into the forest. A moose followed, his killer antlers perched magnificently over his soft face. His lips twisted at the corners into a smile.
“Blood offspring of the dragon, may you live long!” He winked at her, then strolled into the trees.
One rabbit, its gray fur glossy from too much grooming, walked to the dragon on its hind legs. Its nose twitched and its ears shivered. “G-great and m-mighty one.” Perhaps it meant to say more, but it hopped away before anything else came out.
Albino watched as the bear approached Dantress. Its burly black, fur-covered body dwarfed her. Yet she showed no timidity and, indeed, he saw her smile at the animal and speak to it.
In this way they passed the time until Yimshi’s rays turned from gold to a shade of orange. “Dantress? It’s time to go.”
“Already?”
She reluctantly followed him out of the forest and back to the plateau. The western horizon’s clouds dipped into deeper shades of red and purple.
He sniffed the air. “Mm hmm! Smell those hazelnuts!”
She lifted her chin to test the air and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. The day of her birth came briefly to mind and he thought, with a twinge of regret, that he favored her over his other daughters. Not that he loved her more than he loved them; but he felt that she was of the same spirit as he—in tune with nature, in love with the things he loved.
“Come,” he said, nuzzling her affectionately with his elegant head, “daylight is fading. I promised your sisters last night that I will read another story by the fireplace before Elsie tucks you all into bed.” He helped her onto his neck and stood, facing the wind.
“Promise me, Father,” she begged into his ear. “Promise to bring me back?”
“Of course, my child. I’d love to.”
Tensing every leg muscle he threw himself into the wind with wings spread. The air caught him and he flapped his wings and drew his legs tight against his body. The plateau shrank out of sight behind him as the crimson solar disc settled below the horizon.
RUSTED SWORDS
Rules are rules!” Elsie pushed Dantress back to her pillow and proceeded to tuck in the bed sheets so tightly that Dantress nearly gasped. As soon as she’d finished, Elsie stood straight and yanked the cord tighter around her dark red night gown.
Swords of the Six (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 4