Dragonblood

by Anthony D. Franklin

  Until recent events, Tallon had assumed that to be true. Now, he was living an adventure! A secret adventure, to be sure, but an adventure nonetheless. He almost laughed aloud as he imagined what his parents’ reaction would be when they learned of his “situation”. Then he had a sobering thought. Would they disown him? People in this backward region did not accept “different” very easily. And different described him quite well right now.

  Shrugging off his unease, Tallon went to greet his father and lend a hand in tending the tall stalks of grain. Cruss welcomed him with a smile and a wink. He’d noticed his son’s absence that morning and figured his boy had a girlfriend he’d sneaked off to visit. They bent to their tasks, Cruss with relish and Tallon with effort. Father and son worked well together, the result of years of practice. After a few hours working they heard Maryll calling them for the midday meal.

  The young dragon circled above the clear mountain lake, eyeing the group of dragons already sunning themselves along the shore. He glided to an open area and back-winged to land lightly on the rocky beach. Almost immediately a rather smug looking dragon approached him. Unlike most dragons, this creature had little in the way of manners and delighted in playing practical jokes on his peers.

  “Good day to you, Smort.” The young one said in greeting.

  “Good day to you, nameless!”

  The youngster lowered his eyes, determined not to rise to the bait. Though Smort was only a few decades older, he’d had his naming day and so “outranked” any dragon not yet named. Most dragons would never be so rude as to make a point of mentioning another’s status, but Smort was not like most dragons.

  “I heard you took a wound from a human, youngling,” Smort teased, “Careless of you.”

  For a moment the young one’s heart froze. What else might Smort know? Slowly, he forced himself to relax. Of course the wounding would be news. Fracco would have warned the others of the danger as a matter of course. But he would not have spoken of the bond, and the healer’s discretion was beyond doubt.

  “Yes, foolish of me to fly so low.” He said.

  Smort puffed up. “Such carelessness could reflect badly on your naming day! Why I—”

  “Leave him be, Smort.” Another dragon interrupted.

  Both dragons turned toward that lovely voice.

  “Cloudia.” They said in unison. (Smort growled it; the young one’s voice was a sigh.)

  The young dragon thought Cloudia was the most beautiful dragoness ever created. Her golden scales were the essence of the sun, and the green were emeralds. Her eyes were frozen fire... and... and she was talking to him!

  “Wh-What?” He stammered.

  “Are you okay, Snooter? Don’t let Smort worry you so. I’m sure your naming day will be glorious!” Cloudia said soothingly. (She still called him by the nickname she’d given him when they were hatchlings together.)

  Suddenly, inspiration struck the young dragon. “Cloudia,” he said, “Would you care to fly with me for a time? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  And so the two flew off together, leaving a sputtering Smort to fume by himself.

  Cruss, Maryll, and Tallon had just finished their midday meal when Doc Arrek arrived along with a stranger.

  “Ho, the house!” Doc called in greeting.

  “Ya just missed a fine meal, Doc.” Cruss said. “We can spare enough for you and your friend, though. More than welcome.”

  “Thanks, but no, Cruss. This ain’t exactly a social call. This here’s Garroq.” Doc said, gesturing toward the stranger. Cruss nodded to him and the man grunted something too low to hear.

  The doctor continued, “Now, I know you ain’t much fer folklore, but Garroq here says the stuff on Tallon’s clothes is dragon blood.”

  “Dragon blood, huh.” Cruss said slowly. He looked at Maryll and rolled his eyes.

  Tallon’s heart was hammering. Slowly he stood and faced the stranger. He was a powerfully built man, with huge shoulders, biceps, and forearms. Tallon looked the man up and down.

  “You’re a hunter.” Tallon stated, not really a question. His eyes had gone hard.

  With a voice like rocks rolling over dried leaves Garroq said, “I’m a dragon killer.”

  * * *

  Tallon stood rock still. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white with stress. His eyes bored into Garroq’s. The self-proclaimed dragon killer took an unconscious step back from those cold staring eyes. His hand strayed to the knife at his belt. Violence hung in the air.

  “A dragon killer, you say?” Tallon whispered the question.

  Suddenly, Cruss, Maryll, and the doctor were between the two, with Doc Arrek almost pushing Garroq out the door and Maryll with her hands on her son’s cheeks. Cruss stood in the middle, forestalling any foolishness.

  “What’s the matter, son?” Maryll asked, “You look like could slay that man! We don’t treat guests that way. Son?”

  Tallon’s eyes never registered his mother. They followed Garroq’s movements until he was completely out the door. Even then he did not look directly at her. His voice was cold and distant when he finally spoke.

  “That man is an oathbreaker and a murderer.”

  Cruss shook his head. “What? Because he says he’s a dragon killer? Hard to kill what don’t exist, boy. Now settle down. I don’t care for the man much m’self, understand. Don’t get a good feeling from him, but if he’s a friend of Arrek’s...”

  “He’s no friend of mine!” Arrek said, reentering the house. He’d sent Garroq back to town to wait for him at the tavern. “He just saw me going into my office with Tallon’s clothes. He saw the stains and said he recognized it.” He shrugged. “He asked to come along with me to tell you, and I didn’t see any harm in it. Never mentioned about being a dragon killer, though.”

  “Foolishness!” Cruss spat. Maryll nodded in agreement.

  They all turned to Tallon as he sighed and sat down heavily. His eyes had lost that hardness, and he looked close to tears. Emotions washed across his face and he seemed to come to a decision. Slowly he nodded his head and took a deep breath.

  “Please, all of you, sit. Please. I have something to tell you. Something you may not believe.”

  The young dragon lost himself for a time in the pleasure of flight, and the sight of his companion, the lovely dragoness, Cloudia. The sun played off her scales with dizzying effect. That Smort was left in a lather was no small part of the pleasure, also. Yet he knew what he planned was a serious thing. To involve Cloudia was risky at best. He’d have to confide in her all that had occurred. He counted her a friend, but still it was a chance to admit to having bonded with a human before he’d even attained his name.

  “Flying with you is fun, Snooter, but you said you wanted to discuss something. You seem... pensive. What is it that troubles you so?”

  Telepathy made communication during flight much easier. Sound could be taken by the wind. Mind to mind contact was much more intimate and much clearer.

  “Cloudia, I have a favor to ask. A large favor which must remain secret. Discretion is paramount. Honor may be at risk. You should know this before accepting.”

  “The shell is already broken, Snooter. I am with you. Hatch this thing before I burst with curiosity!”

  And so the young dragon confessed all to Cloudia: The truth about his wounding, the accidental bonding, and the fact that he nourished that bonding and met with his human bond mate. He described the changes in the human, Tallon, and he related the incident with the ruffians when he sent draconic power to his bond mate during battle. All that happened since the bond was formed, he told to Cloudia.

  Then he told her his plan.

  “Oh, Snooter!” She exclaimed, “Your naming day WILL be glorious!”

  Tallon sat back, exhausted. He’d talked for almost an hour, speaking over his parents’ protests as he described what had happened to him two nights ago. His throat felt raw. Frustration mixed with fear as he bat
tled between wanting his parents and the doctor to believe him, and hoping that if they did, they would not disown him. He swallowed hard and waited for their verdict.

  Doc Arrek was scratching his balding head. Cruss was slowly shaking his in mute denial. Maryll sat with eyes closed, shoulders softly shaking, while her hands hesitantly reached out to her son. For a long time no one spoke. The silence was deafening. To Tallon it felt like the air was thickening around him. He was suffocating in the silence.

  Finally it was the doctor who broke the spell. Still scratching in head, he asked, “So, you being bond... friends with this dragon is what made you so mad at Garroq?”

  “You believe him?” Cruss croaked. Maryll stopped sobbing long enough to stare at the doctor.

  Almost apologetically the doctor explained, “First off, I ain’t ever seen nothing like them stains on your boy’s clothes. Second, you explain his sudden muscles. And third, you saw as well as me, his eyes turned orange the other day. Plus, I hear he took on Cimian and his boys and came out on top. That ain’t ever happened before. So, something happened. I got no explanation better’n what he’s told us. Strange as it is, it could well be true.” He looked surprised at his own long speech.

  “Dragons!” Cruss shook his head. Maryll resumed her crying in silence, her whole body wracked with sobs.

  “Yes, sir. Dragons.” Tallon replied. “They exist. They made a pact with humankind long ago. Only man has ever broken it, and Garroq is one of the oathbreakers.”

  “If he suspects about this bonding thing...” Doc Arrek began.

  “I doubt he knows of the bonding.” Tallon interrupted him. “Only those actually bonded, or those close to them know of it. It is not widely done.”

  “You said it was an accident.” Cruss said, “Maybe he could take it back.” He shook his head again, struggling with the concept.

  “It cannot be taken back,” Tallon stated, “And I would not have it so if it could. I am better for it.”

  Tallon stood. His parents would either accept or not. The truth was the truth, and nothing could change it. For now, honor dictated action.

  “I’m going for a walk.” He said. “I’m still me, Ma. Pa. I’m still your Tallon. I love you both.”

  With that he walked out the door, leaving the adults to discuss, decide, and accept. He hoped accept.

  Wingtip to wingtip they flew back to the mountain lake. There was still plenty of daylight left for sunning along the shore. Perhaps even some swimming would be welcome. The tickle of fish and the contrast of cool water and hot sun was quite the sensation.

  Suddenly, the young dragon’s flight faltered. He veered away from Cloudia and climbed to a higher altitude.

  “Snooter! What’s wrong?”

  “My human. I can feel him stronger than ever. He has found the one who wounded me! I must go. Tallon intends to avenge me. He is headed for battle!”

  * * *

  Tallon ran like the wind. He’d left his parents’ house at a steady walk, but as soon as he was out of their sight he began to run. Anger fueled his pace. Desire for vengeance pulsed through his veins like boiling blood. That filthy oathbreaker, Garroq had wounded his Bondmate. Honor called for action. No other dragon would fall to Garroq’s arrows!

  He did not slow to a walk until he’d entered the small town of Belldene. Townspeople made way for him, staring at his sweat soaked clothes and flushed face. A few haltingly called out to him, but he did not hear them. Nor did he see the stares or pointing fingers. He had eyes only for Garroq, and revenge. The only tavern was in the center of town. Tallon stalked toward that gathering place with grim determination.

  The normally rowdy crowd at The Dented Bucket was in high spirits as a stranger had been buying drinks and telling wild stories of mythical creatures. He swore they were true, but the patrons at the bar did not care as long as he continued buying ale or spiced wine for them. They were having a decidedly fine time when suddenly the front door banged open and all drinking ceased.

  Tallon stood in the doorway, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat. His eyes locked onto Garroq’s and all else ceased to exist. Men began to hastily scatter away from the two.

  “I have come for you, oathbreaker.” Tallon spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  “I am here, boy.” From his belt Garroq pulled a knife that was really a short sword.

  Tallon frowned, momentarily confused by the weapon. He had not thought beyond getting to Garroq and beating him to a pulp. But this was a hardened man, ready to fight to the death. With unexpected quickness, Garroq lunged to attack, leading with a sweeping left forearm, and followed with a thrust of his knife to Tallon’s ribs.

  Barely reacting in time, Tallon leaned away from the sweeping arm and covered his ribs with his left arm. The blade sank deep into his arm and the force of the blow sent him bowling over backwards into and over a table. Suddenly Tallon realized he was in over his head. He came off the floor grabbing the upturned table and using it as a shield against Garroq’s powerful attacks. Tallon’s muscles were bigger now, true, but Garroq’s muscles were hard earned and he knew how to use them. Tallon staggered under the continued assault, and his left arm was aflame in pain. Garroq sensed the weakness and moved in for the kill.

  “Snooter! What is it?” Cloudia raced to catch up with the young dragon.

  “My human, Tallon, battles for my sake. He is overmatched, and his spirit grows weak.”

  Great wings beat against the wind, striving to gain speed, striving to reach Tallon. As the bond between man and dragon strengthened, the telepathic connection also grew. This new bond was not yet strong enough to reach too great a distance. The dragons had been far away, at the mountain lake, and Tallon had lengthened the distance by running to town.

  “Try, Snooter.” Cloudia urged him.

  The young dragon concentrated as best he could while flying at breakneck speed. Waves of draconic strength he sent, as he had done before when his Bondmate faced the gang of ruffians. He did not feel the echo, the response which let him know his human had received the sending.

  Dragons are patient creatures, but frustration grew in him. Maybe the human was rubbing off on him! Cloudia was a comfort, but she could not truly help in this. This was his Bondmate, fighting, perhaps dying for him!

  On they flew, hoping beyond hope, and then... a faint echo! Tallon was wounded! With a roar he sent the strongest wave he could.

  Garroq wore a grim smile. Tallon’s legs had buckled with that last hammering blow, which had split the table in two. The boy was slowly pushing himself to his feet, still clutching the table legs for support. Garroq stepped forward to bury his blade in Tallon’s heart. At the last moment, too late to stop his own motion, Garroq knew that something was wrong...

  As Tallon pushed himself up he felt a tickling in the back of his head. He lifted his head just in time to see Garroq coming at him with that short sword of his...

  ---In the following years, when people retold the story, the details would vary. In some tales Tallon grew to a giant and smashed the stranger to the ground. In others, fire flew from his mouth and engulfed Garroq. But whatever the version told, they all remember correctly the color of his eyes and that inhuman roar---

  ... As Garroq thrust his knife towards Tallon’s heart he saw the boy’s head come up. His eyes blazed a brilliant orange. With a loud roar Tallon brought the two sides of the table together and turned Garroq’s arm into a misshapen lump. The knife fell harmlessly to the ground. As Garroq sank to the floor, grabbing his hopelessly broken arm, Tallon picked up the blade and eyed his opponent. Another roar welled up in his throat and he lifted the blade overhead.

  “NO!” Echoed in his brain.

  For a moment he hesitated, and then he brought the blade down, broadside, and rendered Garroq unconscious. As the man slumped over, Tallon dropped the weapon and turned to leave. At the doorway he looked up into the sky and let loose another door rattling roar. Some say they heard an answering echo, off in the distance.


  The two dragons flew side by side. It was good to fly.

  * * *

  The young dragon wore an expression as close to smugness as any dragon could hope to achieve. He flew high in the late afternoon sky, accompanied by the lovely Cloudia. His Bondmate had just avenged his wounding and the stressful situation had apparently caused an acceleration of the bond’s growth. Even now, as they approached the mountain lake, he could strongly feel the presence of the human, Tallon.

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Almost, his flying faltered as the meaning of the words spoken in his head hit home. For the first time, Tallon had sent a thought to him! Before he had hoped, and now he believed his plan might actually work. Now he could speak with Tallon without having to meet with him in some clandestine manner.

  “No thanks are needed, Tallon. What blood has bonded is stronger than flesh or scale.”

  The young dragon felt Tallon’s nod of acknowledgment. Strange, how what days ago seemed impossible, now seemed simple. He felt Cloudia’s eyes on him and motioned for her to follow him. Perhaps there would be a little time left to sun on the beach by the crystal waters.

  However, when they landed, it was obvious there would be no time for sunning. Smort was waiting for them, and he did not look happy.

  Tallon walked slowly homeward. Perhaps smug was too strong a word for his expression. Extremely satisfied likely fit. He’d done what he set out to do. The town of Belldene would not soon forget the battle they’d witnessed in the tavern.

  It was also quite satisfying to have seen Cimian and a couple of his boys turn tail and run when they saw Tallon coming their way. Yes, quite satisfying indeed. Of course, he’d not done it all on his own. He’d felt the strength flow into him from his Bondmate. BONDMATE! How easily that word came to mind now. Silently, he sent thanks to his friend. He smiled at the surprised response. The bond felt... stronger, somehow. And that felt good.

  After a time, when he’d left sight of the town, Tallon began to worry about his parents’ decision. Would they accept him and his new “relationship”? Perhaps a scenic route home would give them more time to think it over. They were simple farm folk, and most decisions of import were mulled over with much discussion and pipe smoking. His mother and father both enjoyed a good puff of fine home grown featherleaf tobacco. Yes, he’d take the long way home.