Dragonblood

by Anthony D. Franklin

  DRAGONBLOOD

  Anthony D. Franklin

  DRAGONBLOOD

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Text © 2010 by Anthony D. Franklin

  Cover Art © 2010 by Pandora Project Publisher

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Pandora Project Publisher

  12839 Kodiak Ave. Hudson, FL 34667

  Printed in the United States of America

  www.pandoraprojectpublisher.com

  Ebook Edition

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  (use T to return to table of contents)

  DRAGONBLOOD

  DRAGONBLOOD

  Scales fell like rain from the sky. The wounded dragon desperately beat his wings in order to stay aloft. Droplets of thick black blood, as large as a man’s fist fell from the grievous wound. Invisible in the night, the great struggle for survival went unseen by the humans below.

  The great beast did not have a name. His naming day had not yet come. He was young for his kind. Only a few centuries had passed since the morning of his hatching. So soon, he thought to himself. Too soon to leave this world without making a mark for himself. “My wings still beat, my heart still beats!” he chanted to himself. A mantra to help him stay aloft. He heard thunder afar off and redoubled his efforts to make it home.

  Tallon strolled along, enjoying the solitude of the night. He was a gangly youth, clumsily growing into his height. Routinely teased by his schoolmates, nighttime was his escape from the cruelty of adolescent tormentors.

  He raised his head at the sound of rushing wind and was staggered as a large glob of some viscous substance struck him with terrible force. He fell to his knees and raised his hands to his face. There was a slight burning sensation, and he reflexively licked his lips. He looked at his hands and gasped at the sight of the thick black liquid. There was a sudden warming in his stomach and chest, followed by a feeling of light-headedness. He lurched to his feet and gagged, but did not vomit. He wiped his hands on his shirt and on his pants legs. He lifted his eyes skyward and searched in vain for some sign of what had attacked him. Finally he gave up and glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed the incident. No one. He was alone. Just as well, he thought. This would just be fodder for more teasing. He decided to keep the incident to himself. His head now clear, and his mind made up, he headed for home.

  The dragon felt something new through the pain of his exertion. It felt like the early stage of a fragile bonding. Somewhere, somehow, a human had ingested his blood! It was not unheard of for humans and dragons to bond through the blood rite. Usually the dragon chose their human, courted them, explained the intricacies of such a union and bonded with them during a ritualistic bleeding that the human then drank.

  Such a bonding gave dragonkind greater understanding of humans, while the humans gained certain draconic attributes. This bond however, was accidental, and the young dragon had no idea what effects would result. The human had not been courted or prepared for the changes that would surely come.

  The storm hit, pelting the weary giant with a cold, driving rain. Though the wind slowed his progress, the rain actually helped. With his jaws opened wide he flew into the storm, slaking his terrible thirst. When he finally caught sight of home, the scales had ceased falling from him and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Bone weary when he entered his cave, all thoughts of the human were banished as he fell into an immediate and deep sleep.

  Tallon marched homeward, seeming to gain strength with each step. He felt more alive somehow. The warmth that had started in his chest and stomach had spread throughout his entire body. When he was almost home, the rain came. He barely felt the drops as he crossed the field that led to his parents’ house. Quietly he entered the small cottage and tiptoed to his room. Once inside a strange weariness overcame him. He barely made it to his bed before falling into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  Dragons, by nature, are patient creatures. It is a virtue which has been tested to the extreme by humankind through the ages. Two great beasts paced the outer rim of their child’s cave, their patience being sorely strained.

  The young one had arrived home late and entered his bedchamber without properly greeting his parents. In the morning, after seeing spots of dried blood on the stones leading to their hatchling’s quarters, they rushed to him, only to find him in a deep sleep. After all attempts at waking him failed, they called a Healer.

  The ancient dragon poked and prodded the snoring youngster. He assured the worried parents that the physical wounds had stopped bleeding and already new scales were forming, replacing the ones that had fallen. Whatever struck him, the healing process was well under way. The problem lay in the mid, he was sure. Something he could not readily fathom. He told the worried pair not to fear, for he would find the problem and cure it.

  Tallon’s parents had a similar problem. Their son would not wake up, no matter how much the yelled or shook him. Cruss, his father, had gone to Tallon’s room when his son had not answered his repeated calls to do the chores. At first he thought his son to be drunk, as there was a certain flush to his face. Plus, Tallon did not usually snore. But this morning he was churning gravel. Cruss shook his son, and then clapped him on the shoulder. Tallon continued to snore, breathing deeply and exhaling loudly.

  Finally, Cruss went to get his wife. Maryll knew immediately something was amiss. Her son did not drink, and yet his face was flush, as with excitement, though he slept soundly. Plus, there were some dark splotches on his clothes and in his hair. She sent her husband to fetch the doctor while she tended to her son as best she could.

  When the doctor arrived he found Tallon much as Cruss had described him. He still slept noisily, but he had been washed and his clothes replaced with a clean nightshirt. After careful examination the white-haired doctor stood scratching his balding head. “He seems fit.” He said. “Stronger lookin’ than I remember him.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Both parents said together.

  “Somethin’ in his head, maybe.” The doctor suggested. “Can’t tell for sure.”

  “His chest does seem bigger.” Maryll said. “His arms, too.”

  “His head ain’t gonna make his chest and arms bigger, woman!” Cruss argued.

  “Well, they are. Look at ‘em.” She insisted.

  And so they did. All three agreed that Tallon did in fact look a bit thicker than before. He had always been a rather skinny child. And sickly, too. He caught every cold and every childhood disease imaginable. Just yesterday he’d had the sniffles and was quite pale. Now, he appeared ruddy and well, though he slept. The doctor was suggesting a poultice mix when Tallon opened one eye.

  “Hello.” He said groggily.

  “So, the sleeper awakens.” The doctor said in response.

  Both parents went to their son and fell on him with hugs and kisses. Tallon had no idea what was happening. He suffered the attention for bit, then shrugged his parents off of him.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked. “Why is Doc Arrek here?”

  “For you, son.” His father told him. Then his mother explained what had happened.

  “I feel fine, really quite well.” He assured them.

  After everything calmed down and he was left alone, Tallon began to remember what occurred the previous evening. And he began to recall the strange dreams he’d had during the night.

  Fracco and Blessa stopped their pacing long enough to hear the Healer’s decision.

  “The child is only a few centuries old. He is strong and healthy in most ways.” he said. “You two must e
mit only love and support to the child. This will strengthen the mind and the will.”

  “But, what is the injury?” Fracco wondered.

  Before the Healer could answer, the young dragon stretched and awakened. The memory of the incidental bond came flooding back to him and he reared back his head and bellowed.

  * * *

  The dragon’s roar rocked the cliff side, sending birds flying and small rodents scurrying for cover. Fracco and Blessa rushed to their child’s side, the Healer only a pace behind them. They found the young dragon wild-eyed and disoriented. The three adults reached out to him telepathically, attempting to soothe him and calm his distress.

  Finally their efforts had effect. The youngster’s breathing slowed to a normal pace and his eyes regained their normal orange hue. Still, his heart beat too fast. Something was still amiss. What, they wondered, could so frighten a dragon?

  “I don’t know how it happened.” The dragon cried.

  “How what happened, child?” His mother asked.

  “The bond! A human has bonded with me!” Panic was in is voice.

  The Healer spoke, “Relax young one, and tell us what you remember.”

  “Where to start?” he thought, aloud.

  “The beginning is always a good place,” replied Fracco, “start there.”

  He’d been hunting herd beasts on the plains when he felt a sudden pain in his belly. At first he thought maybe he’d eaten too much or too quickly, but then another burst of pain slightly to the side of the first struck him. Arrows had pierced his underbelly. Such a thing was almost unheard of. Few humans had the strength to launch an arrow with sufficient force to penetrate a dragon’s armored scales.

  Instinctively he inhaled deeply, inflating his stomach and forcing the arrows out of his body. But the damage was done, and his blood flowed. Immediately he set out for home and safety. Scales fell as struggled to reach his cave. And, of course, his blood fell to the earth. A storm hit him, but the rain actually helped, as he drank of it even as he flew raggedly homeward. At some point he felt something. Some weak connection being made. But when he barely made it home he fell to sleep, forgetting about the strange sensation until just now, when he woke up.

  “I feel better now. But still, it is strange to feel a part of something so foreign.” He looked to his elders. “What should I do?”

  Tallon got out of bed and tested his legs. At first he thought he’d be weak. After all, the doctor had been rushed to his side to see why he could not be awakened. However, now he felt wonderful! Never better, in fact. He decided to get dressed and help his father with the chores after all. As he passed the mirror in his room he glanced at his reflection and stopped cold. Before him stood a lad of imposing build. No longer were his arms mere sticks, but rather muscularly corded limbs. His chest was bigger, and his legs were stronger looking, too.

  “What has happened to me?” He asked himself.

  “Whatever it is, it ain’t natural.” The doctor had reentered the room.

  “Do you know what’s happening to me, Doc Arrek?” Tallon asked.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you remember of last night?” He answered. “Then maybe we can figure out what’s going on here.”

  Tallon and the doctor joined Cruss and Maryll in the cottage’s small kitchen. As Maryll served heated drinks, Tallon told his story.

  He’d been walking home late last night, trying to avoid Cimian and his group of roughnecks when he’d heard a sound like rushing wind. He looked up and something struck him down. He remembered a burning sensation in his mouth and chest. Some goop was on him and he tried to wipe it off on his pants. He did not feel any pain, but when he got home he felt very tired. He had some strange dreams during the night, but could not recall them much, now.

  “Well,” the doctor said, “I’ll just take them clothes of yours back to town. Maybe that goop has something t’ do with this. Meanwhile, I’d keep to home if I was you.”

  “But why?” Tallon protested. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  And the doctor, Cruss, and Maryll all gasped as Tallon’s eyes flashed orange for an instant.

  * * *

  “Oh, his eyes!” Maryll cried, and made an ancient hand gesture to ward off evil.

  Tallon looked questioningly at the three adults who had all taken a step back, away from him. He knew he did not normally speak so harshly, but their response was not warranted. Even so, he decided to apologize for his behavior.

  “I’m sorry”, he said, “I didn’t mean to shout. I guess I am still a bit out of sorts. Maybe I will stay home today.”

  His parents and the doctor only continued to stare into his eyes, not even responding to his earnest apology. What’s happening here? He thought to himself.

  “Uh, ye...Yes.” Doc Arrek stammered. “You just stay here and get some rest. I’ll just have a word with yer pa and ma outside.” The doctor ushered Cruss and Maryll out to the yard and spoke to them in hushed tones. “I ain’t much fer demons or such, but there’s something powerful wrong with that boy.”

  “Did you see his eyes?” Cruss whispered.

  “We all saw his eyes, Cruss.” The doctor replied.

  Maryll, usually so strong, burst into tears. “My son, my son.” She whimpered.

  “Maybe we should see the old woman. They say she’s got powers. Ya know, powers.” Cruss suggested.

  “Never!!” Maryll averred, apparently regaining her strength and poise. “Never will I go to that abomination! You don’t go to evil to fight evil.”

  “I was just...” Cruss mumbled.

  “I know what you was just!” Maryll spat. “What say you, Arrek?”

  “As I said, I ain’t much fer that sort of fare. Just keep the lad t’ home and I’ll check on this muck on his clothes. And keep him calm. His eyes lit up orange-like when he got riled, ya notice. Just keep him happy and calm like a baby is what I say. I’ll get back to ya soon’s I can.”

  Cruss and Maryll bid the doctor farewell and reentered their cottage. “Tallon?” His mother called. No answer. “TALLON!” Cruss barked. Still no answer.

  Tallon, their normally obedient son, was gone.

  The old healer had no ready answer for the young dragon. What to do indeed. Not in all of Draconic history had a human ingested the blood of one of their kind by accident. Always, there was the rite, the slow education which humans seemed barely able to comprehend.

  “Maybe we should find it and kill it.” Suggested Fracco.

  “No!” Blessa cried. “Remember the oath. We’ll not be the ones to breach the peace.”

  “Our son has been wounded by one of them!” Fracco flared. “It would not be us as peace breakers.”

  “I doubt that the one bonded is the one which shot arrows into our child.” Blessa reasoned.

  “Still, it is a human. Few can be considered worthy of such an association. Besides, our young one is not old enough to be expected to understand the complications of such a relationship. It is too much. Kill the human, I say.”

  “Fracco,” the healer interrupted, “I understand your concern, but we are above killing such petty human animals. Perhaps we shall find a way to solve this. I suggest we meditate on this for a few days. Haste is the father of error.”

  “You are correct, of course.” Blessa agreed.

  Her mate nodded and grunted a half-hearted agreement.

  “I will return in a few days, then. Until then, be well my friends.” The old healer heaved himself into the air and soon vanished over the cliff side.

  “Will this delay our son’s naming day, do you think?” Blessa asked her mate.

  “Delay? I don’t know. But it will have bearing on his name, I’m afraid. In recent times the blood rite has been outlawed altogether.” Fracco shook his massive head.

  “Little one?” Blessa called to her son as she entered the large cave.

  No answer.

  “SON!” Fracco’s bellow was fearsome.

  No answer.

&nb
sp; Together Fracco and Blessa reached for their hatchling with their powerful minds. Telepathically they touched him, but he would not respond. Shaking their heads over the impetuousness of youth they returned to their living chambers to meditate on the situation.

  Tallon raced through the fields of grain behind his home. On he ran, into the woods bordering the family property. He felt more alive than ever before. He felt as if he were running toward something, though he knew not what. Joy pumped through his veins, feeding his muscles and fueling his desire to exert himself. If only I could fly, he thought, I would fly like a... like a...

  “Hey, Tallon!”

  He was brought out of his daydream by a familiar voice.

  “Hello Cimian.” He panted, having come to a sudden stop.

  “Don’t hello, Cimian me, Tallon boy.” The bully sneered. “Don’t you know these are my woods?”

  As usual, Cimian was not alone. Four of his roughnecks were fanning out around Tallon as he spoke.

  “I don’t want trouble.” Tallon pleaded.

  “You don’t hafta want it, Tally boy.” And Cimian signaled his gang to close in.

  * * *

  Tallon stood surrounded by Cimian and his gang of ruffians. The gang leader smiled as his boys moved in closer to attack their frequent victim. None of them had noticed the changes in Tallon. His loose fitting shirt hid corded muscles and his breeches concealed strong legs. As the first attacker reached Tallon he hesitated, perhaps sensing something.

  Tallon turned to face the one nearest him and shouted, “NO!”

  The boy paled as he saw orange fire in Tallon’s eyes. He didn’t hear Cimian’s shouted command to “GET HIM!”

  The others, not seeing Tallon’s face, rushed to the attack.

  They never knew what hit them.

  Tallon crouched suddenly, and then sprang skyward, kicking out with both legs, one forward and one back. Two would be attackers were sent flying in opposite directions. As he landed Tallon struck a hammer blow to the head of the boy whose face had paled from seeing his eyes. The kid sank liquidly to the ground. As Cimian stood staring in disbelief, his fourth roughneck ran for safety.