Dragonblood

by Anthony D. Franklin

  Back in town, even as the constable sent Garroq on his way, arm wrapped in an herbal poultice, the rumors began to grow. Tallon’s newfound strength must be black magic. He’s fallen in league with Darkness. His eyes... his eyes were like a beast. No, Garroq was the evil one, and Tallon a tool of the Light. He grew to the size of a giant! No, fire came from his mouth!

  Of course, there were those who thought it was all the result of too much ale and spiced wine. Wives tried to quiet their drunken husbands, which they could usually do with a hard look and the promise of unpleasant nights. But this time the men persisted. They’d seen it. Seen it with their own bleary eyes. Only a few gave in for the sake of peace, and a good night’s sleep.

  The two dragons waited for Smort to approach. At first look, he appeared angry, which is odd enough for a dragon. Then, a sly look came over his face. He knew something, and they were going to have to suffer to learn of it.

  “So, you two just fly off and leave me while I was still talking, hmm?” Smort said as he came to a halt in front of them.

  “You’re always talking, Smort!” Cloudia said with a laugh.

  “So, maybe I should not talk now about what the elders are saying about your friend!”

  “Wh-what do they say, Smort?” The young one managed to ask.

  “Perhaps Cloudia is right, -Snooter does she call you? - perhaps I’ll just say nothing.”

  “What do you want, Smort?” Cloudia asked quietly.

  “I might be persuaded to tell, if a certain female were to promise a flight with me.”

  The two friends looked at one another. Such a thing was not done! Of course, Smort was not like most dragons, but extortion was a foreign concept. For her friend’s sake, Cloudia was about to accept when...

  A loud single note was bugled, as if from a horn. But no horn could make that sound. A lone dragon’s throat sounded that note from the highest point on the cliff face. A summons. Inside his head the young one heard the call. It was for him and him alone. He must go and face the elders. If they had somehow found out about his bonding a human... all his plans would be moot.

  As he took to the air he saw Cloudia give him an encouraging look. Even better, as she turned to leave, her tail “accidentally” swatted the side of Smort’s head. Once again, he was left sputtering to himself.

  Tallon’s parents did indeed indulge in a bit of pipe smoking and maybe a mug or two of heated wine. Cruss and Maryll never had to decide whether or not to accept their son and his new predicament. He was their son, and that was that. What they discussed was how they were to deal with it. They were stubborn farm folk, and if unpredictable weather and unstable produce prices could not bring them to their knees, well then nothing could! In the end they figured to just deal with things as they happened. Of course, Cruss said he’d have to see the dragon before he’d actually believe it existed. Maryll, strong as she was, still caught herself jumping at nothing and feeling on the verge of tears at any given moment.

  She did one of those jumps when Tallon came walking into the house. Unbelievably, he looked even bigger and stronger than before. But she saw the shy smile she had loved since he was a child. Suddenly she saw him as a scared little child, and she went to him and held him close. Tears came to her eyes as Cruss moved to join them in a family embrace. Humans may not practice telepathy, but no words were needed for Tallon to know he was welcome home.

  In the days that followed, chores were done, meals were eaten, and crops were tended. To the casual eye all seemed just about the same. However, Tallon’s internal struggle went on. He had to control the violence within him. Dragons were slow to anger for good reason. If left unchecked, their emotions and their power could create havoc. Tallon worked to attain a semblance of draconic patience. It did not help that his Bondmate seemed unable or unwilling to communicate with him lately.

  Patience, he told himself. Patience.

  The young one faced the elders of the circle. These dragons were ancient, even in draconic terms. Gray muzzles faced him with stern eyes, studying him and, it seemed, catching every flaw in his being. They stood in a vast cavern high in the mountains and almost unreachable to any without wings.

  For days now they had stood like this. No word spoken, no thought directed to him. He’d felt Tallon trying to reach him and had to ignore the attempts for fear of exposing the bond. Almost, he wanted to confess all just to end this silence.

  Suddenly, one of the elders made a small gesture with a wingtip and two more dragons entered the chamber. Fracco and Blessa! The moment’s relief faded as his parents joined the elders in silence and stared at him. Perhaps Blessa’s face held some softness for him. Perhaps.

  Another day, maybe two, and he would tell all. He felt as if they knew! Well, his parents did know. Surely they would not have said anything. Their honor as well as his depended on discretion. Hunger began to work its way into his thoughts. A little food would be welcome. Water would be nice, too.

  Just when he thought he could take no more, the elders sat as one. They motioned for Fracco and Blessa to join them. Finally, they gestured for the young dragon to sit, also. Water and food were brought in and they all partook. After the meal the elders stood once again, and Fracco and Blessa joined them. The young one got shakily to his feet and again faced the circle.

  “Unusual strength in one so young, don’t you agree?” said one of the elders.

  Heads nodded in agreement.

  “Usually initiates are spilling their guts about any offenses they’ve committed since their hatching day!” another elder commented.

  “Yes, the test of Silence is usually very telling. Either this one has never done anything ill, or he has much to hide, hmm?” yet another elder spoke.

  Fracco and Blessa moved to face the elders. Fracco spoke.

  “Honored Elders, our son has passed the test of Silence, and so I request a time be set for his naming day. Nothing is written saying a candidate must speak. Only that no major offenses can be tolerated.”

  The circle of elders looked to one another, speaking telepathically. Finally they reached a consensus. “On the third day of the new phase, two weeks from this day.” The eldest of the circle spoke, “Be prepared young dragon, your naming day comes!”

  Just like that, it was over. The elders filed out of the cavern and flew off in different directions. Fracco and Blessa went to their son and offered congratulations. The young one almost wept with relief. His naming day was coming!

  Tallon had immersed himself in farm work. The wound in his arm had healed quickly, leaving only a faint scar. However, frustration at not being able to communicate with his Bondmate had made him as jumpy as long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He tried to be polite to his parents, but they could sense something was amiss and stepped lightly around him. One good thing about his working off his frustration was that all the work around the farm was being taken care of in fast order. Physical exertion eased the loss of mental stimuli for the young man, and so all heavy lifting and many overdue repairs were taken care of by Tallon.

  Just when Tallon thought he could take no more, the veil lifted. He saw as through the eyes of his Bondmate. The young dragon was in the company of his parents and there was a feeling of great relief. Information flooded into him, but this time he was not overwhelmed. A test had been passed. Pride swelled in him for his friend. Of course he passed the test, he thought. Is there a more worthy dragon in all of dragonkind?

  And then it hit him. Two weeks until the dragon’s naming day. There was much to do, and much to learn. Tallon had to learn phrases of the old earth language. Not an easy tongue for humans. For their plan to work, all formalities had to be met, and courage would count as much as knowledge.

  Fortunately for Tallon, he’d grown stronger while performing the heavy work of the farm. Belatedly he learned of the forms of the blood rite, which included movements emulating dragons in flight and in combat. Strength, grace, agility, and power had to be shown during the mov
ements. Even as he practiced the forms, his Bondmate drilled him on the old tongue. Tallon’s parents watched, bemused, as he rehearsed over and over the required movements and speeches.

  At last the thought came, “Sleep well tonight, Tallon. For tomorrow you must travel to my home. It will be an arduous journey and the climb will be challenging. My naming day is in two days. You must be there or all is for naught.”

  “I will not fail you!” was Tallon’s fervent reply.

  Sleep did not come easily for the young man, but it did finally come. The next morning he bid his parents farewell and left on the journey that promised to fulfill the changes which had already occurred in his life. He carried only a backpack with food and water, and a blanket for the chill of the night. Honing in on the growing connection, Tallon used his awareness of his Bondmate as his guide. So intent was he on his destination that he did not feel the eyes that watched him from a hidden place as he left.

  * * *

  The young dragon went over the details of his plan again and again. He’d taught Tallon all that the young human could absorb in their limited time. Still, he worried he might have overlooked something. Some small thing which would bring his house of straw falling down on their heads. Cloudia tried to comfort him, but he would have none of it. Between preparing for his naming day and trying to avoid Smort, his days were worrisome at best.

  More and more, Smort seemed to begrudge him for some unknown trespass. There was no telling what had gotten under Smort’s scales. Hate was a thing long forgotten among dragons. However, if he had to put a word to it, hate was what he felt from Smort. And no use asking what was the matter. He’d tried that once and nearly had his head bitten off for his trouble.

  “A hindquarter for your thoughts, Snooter.”

  The young dragon was startled out of his reverie. “Cloudia! I thought you were at the lake.”

  “I was,” she said, “But Smort was there. There is a... wrongness about him. Something... I don’t know.”

  “I feel it, too.” He said. “I thought it was just towards me!”

  A shadow passed over them and they both instinctively looked up. Smort had passed over them at such a close distance as to be deemed rude. Courtesy counted for much among dragons and such an act was unheard of. Now, he flew in lazy circles above them.

  “So,” he sneered at them both, “I should have known I’d find you with HIM!”

  The pair looked at each other and then back up at the spiraling Smort. What was he ---?

  “You have ignored my overtures in favor of this no name with shell fragments still clinging to his scales!”

  The young dragon stared incredulously at Smort. Overtures? Cloudia? The insult about his age went unheeded. He had loved Cloudia for as long as he could remember. Could she really feel the same for him? He turned to face her and was surprised to see her eyes shyly cast downward. Slowly, she brought her head up and her eyes searched his. He did not have to hear her thoughts to know it was true. She loved him, too. He wanted to roar for joy! For a moment Smort was forgotten. Then ---

  “SHARDS AND SHELLS! YOU DID NOT KNOW!” Smort bellowed. “Burn you both to ashes!” he muttered, as he flew off in frustration.

  Later, when they could look away from each other and think clearly again, they thought perhaps they should be a little worried about Smort, and what he might do. Later still, they would wonder why they did not see it coming.

  Tallon walked steadily through the day and night. He ate and drank as he walked, slowing only to wrap the blanket around his shoulders to fight the chill of the night. During the day he’d enjoyed the surrounding woods, appreciating the beauty of nature. His general good feeling was marred only by a vague sense of being watched. It worsened during the night, but the night always brought shadows within shadows. Determined not to let childhood tales frighten him, Tallon walked on.

  With the dawn Tallon relaxed shoulders he had not realized had been tense. With the sun rising behind him, Tallon watched the day brighten. A mountain, hidden in the night, now loomed before him. He stopped to try to decide which way to start the climb. He thought he heard a footfall behind him and spun around, ready to defend himself. Nothing. There was a span of open space between the woods and the slow rise of the mountain. Tallon scanned the edge of the forest but saw nothing to warrant the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades. Shaking his head, and berating himself for a scared fool, he turned to face the task ahead.

  He sent a thought to his friend, “I am coming, Bondmate,” and got a sense of intense relief in return. The ceremony would start as the sun was setting. He had a long climb and no time to waste. Setting the backpack aside, Tallon began the long climb to the top of the mountain, and to his destiny.

  The young dragon paced back and forth in his cave. Today was the day. If the plan worked, songs would be sung about his naming day. If not, well... better not to think of that. But the plan had to work. It would not matter what anyone else thought if the elders accepted his logic. He would have his name AND his honor. But there was an old saying: “IF YOU WANT TO MAKE THE CREATOR LAUGH, MAKE PLANS!” Especially, the young one thought, if your plans hinged on the hopes of a human!

  Just then he felt his Bondmate and heard his message: “I am coming, Bondmate.”

  Strange, the relief he felt just in knowing the proximity of his friend. Their destinies were tied together now. For good or ill, they were bonded.

  Cloudia entered the cave. “It’s time, Snooter. You must hunt and eat. Then I will bathe you. Your scales must shine like the sun, my love.”

  “We will assist in the bathing. Right of parenthood, you know.” Fracco and Blessa stood in the entrance of the cave, speaking as one.

  If dragons could blush, the young one would have been crimson. His parents approved of Cloudia; else they would not have offered to “assist” in the bathing. By tradition, the parents prepared their hatchling for his or her naming day. Allowing Cloudia to be involved was a slight deviation from that tradition. Of course, not much would be normal on this naming day.

  Sweat stung Tallon’s eyes as he pulled himself up onto the narrow ledge. His shirt was soaked through and the kerchief he’d been using was wet and filthy. He had numerous small cuts and scrapes, especially on his fingers. Only a little further, he kept saying to himself. Breathing had become a chore. The air was thinner up here, and this last part of the climb would be the steepest.

  He hoped that appearance did not count for much, as he would be gritty and sweaty, with a few tears in his clothes for good measure. He heaved a sigh and pushed himself to his feet. Grasping at a small crevice, he pulled himself upward. The sun would be setting soon. For a moment panic almost overtook him. He calmed himself with the knowledge that his part would be late in the ceremony. He had time. Patience would win the race.

  He’d not looked back down since starting his ascent. Now and then the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades would distract him, but he refused to look down. This was no time to give in to vertigo. As he neared the crest finger holds and foot holds became scarce. He spied a slight outcropping about a foot above his outstretched hand. Bending his knees, he jumped – and missed his target! He felt himself falling, sliding down the cliff face. Desperately he sought something to grab onto. He latched onto a scraggly vine-like weed, barely pushing through a crack in the rock. He hung there, bloody and near exhaustion. To make matters worse, the sun was beginning to set, and his Bondmate’s complete attention was on what the young dragon was doing. The ceremony had begun!

  * * *

  He’d eaten well, and after the bath he’d returned to his cave to wait for the beginning of the ceremony. His scales fairly glowed. All, it seemed, was going well. Even Smort had not shown his muzzle all day. Cloudia had been dispatched to meet Tallon on the east summit. That would be the way he’d be climbing. She would let him know when Tallon had arrived, and she would escort him to the ceremony so there’d be no mishap.

  It seemed he’d only close
d his eyes when he felt the summons. Leaving his cave, he saw that, sure enough, the sun was beginning to set. Scores of dragons ringed the mountaintop. A low, deep hum vibrated fro the throats of all those dragons. He could feel it in his bones. The ground shook with the sound. At a gesture from the senior elder, the humming ceased completely. The sudden silence was deafening.

  “Who comes before us on this, his naming day?” All the elders spoke as one.

  The young dragon stepped forward. “I am the son of Fracco, son of Mothag, son of Groth...,” and he continued to name his father’s ancestors for fifteen generations. Then, he did the same for his mother. “I am the son of Blessa, daughter of Bresca, daughter of Lempis...”

  An elder spoke, “It is well you have come before us this day. You will leave behind the days of childhood and take on the mantle of an adult.”

  “Tell us what deeds, what actions deem you worthy of a name, youngling.” demanded another elder.

  The young dragon launched into the traditional litany, listing his studies, his physical prowess, his mental disciplines, etc. The elders nodded at the appropriate times, and seemed almost bored with the ceremony. They’d done this countless times. Then, suddenly, their attention was snapped to sharp focus on the young candidate.

  “While flying home one night, I was wounded by a human archer. I admit it was my fault for flying too low. However, I have learned a great lesson from the incident, and perhaps gained more than I could have ever imagined.”

  Confused murmurs arose from the surrounding dragons. The elders looked at one another in near panic. They of course knew of the wounding, but they had not expected the candidate to mention such a faux pas.