The Unexpected Prince

by Teresa Grant

  As Silina approached she could tell something was very wrong. Silently she drifted into a soft landing beside Darion and Rylan. She could see by the looks on their faces it was bad.

  Lifting her wings, she blanketed the two of them in a comforting embrace.

  No sooner did she touch them then Darion leapt away with such a stunned look on his face that Silina wondered if she’d somehow shocked him.

  The actual shock came with his next words.

  “Silina, you’re with egg! Elise says her baby is now in you!”

  Astonished silence followed.

  Silina finally found her tongue and replied, “That, is ridiculous! Darion what are you saying?”

  “Elise thought she miscarried last night, but when you touched me, she felt the baby’s life force in you. She knows it sounds crazy but it’s true,” he assured her.

  Just then Drake emerged from the castle followed by Lydia, Rylan’s mother. She was trying to suggest something to Drake who was doing his best to try and ignore her.

  Both stopped short when they noticed the tension permeating around the terrace.

  No one knew what to say. ‘Father, guess what? You’re going to be a Grandfather,’ just wasn't quite right. ‘Mother, your grandchild’s going to be hatched’… nope, not that either; there was no easy explanation, in which case, none chose to give one.

  Later when they were alone again it was unanimously decided to keep things quiet until it was all sorted out.

  They succeeded in keeping things to themselves, but by no means were they keeping quiet.

  Eventually the egg was laid, but this seemed to spark even more discord.

  “Look, get this through your thick skull human! This is MY egg! I carried it! I laid it! And I will hatch it!!! It is not yours! It is not human! And if you try to take it, you will die trying!”

  Silina turned and stalked off to the corner of the cave to curl herself around her precious egg. Darion could not help but feel for her. It was an ordeal from the moment they found she was expecting.

  Between Elise sobbing in his brain, Silina heating up the room to melting point with tiny flames spitting out with each warning, and Rylan standing there belligerent, with hands on hips demanding Silina surrender it. Darion had just about had enough.

  Thank goodness he was back to normal. Well, as normal as he could manage for the moment. After all, this egg was part of him as well. As to its parentage, only time would tell. Badgering Silina constantly about it was not helping matters.

  “Rylan!” Darion finally bellowed.

  It came out so loud that both Silina and Rylan snapped their attention to him and looked at him as though he had appeared out of nowhere.

  “Give us time, Rylan,” he added more calmly, “whatever is in our egg is safe. He will not suffocate before coming to full term as you seem to think,” Darion tried to reason. “But, if you break the shell too soon, you may kill him. I can’t allow it.”

  “But a Dragon and a human’s gestation periods are not the same. How do you know it’s safe? Just let the doctor look at it, that’s all I’m asking for,” Rylan assured them again, for the hundredth time. Since finding out his child was somehow implanted in this egg, he was consumed with worry. No amount of threatening, begging, pleading, or reasoning was making any difference to Silina. She was vicious in her attempt at keeping Rylan at bay.

  “Do you not trust me to look after my own young?” Silina argued. “It is mine I tell you! I will not let any harm come to it. Especially from some incompetent fool you call a Doctor. He is waiting out there with a mallet and will destroy my baby’s life!”

  Turning to Darion she hissed, “Darion, remove him… or I will!”

  Darion reluctantly placed himself between his wife and his old Shifter partner.

  Sweat ran in tiny rivers down Rylan’s face and neck. Steam was rising from his drenched shirt where it clung to his heaving chest. Silina was heating the room beyond human endurance.

  “Come Rylan, it’s not safe. Elise is giving me a headache with her warnings to you.”

  Throwing Silina a meaningful glance, he said to Rylan, “Come, we will go for a ride and let everyone cool down. We’ll let the wind blow away our worries and we’ll come up with a solution that we can all live with.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Darion crowded Rylan towards the cave entrance.

  Left with no other option, Rylan stepped out onto the stoop and although the sun was dazzling, the difference in temperature was like walking into a snowdrift. He motioned for the Doctor who had been waiting outside, to make his way back to the castle. He could catch a ride down with one of the neighboring Dragons.

  Once airborne, Rylan’s clothes quickly dried in the summer heat. He rode the Dragon in companionable silence, while he willed his emotions to come under control.

  After pulling his thoughts somewhat together, Rylan tried again, “Darion, you must make Silina understand.”

  “Rylan, you must learn to have patience!

  “A mother Dragon is not something to be taken lightly. When the baby is born, there will be time enough to sort out its parentage. I’m sorry to have to bring this up, and even though it make’s Elise cry when I even think of it, I have to say it. Women have miscarriages all the time, it’s not uncommon with the first. Could it not be possible that this is what happened to Elise and she’s now focused her grief on Silina’s egg?”

  Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He had lived with Elise long enough to know her magical powers sometimes let her see or hear what others could not. Darion just wanted to be fair to his beloved Silina. She had been through so much. Let her dream a while longer. What could it hurt?

  “No!” Elise screamed in his head, “Can’t you see the damage you’re allowing to fester? Darion, Silina should not be allowed to hope, it will only make it worse in the end!”

  Rylan knew by the expression on Darion’s face that Elise was giving him an earful. The Dragon had a way of cringing and scrunching up his eyes whenever Elise was blasting him. No matter how long they lived with this situation, Rylan would never get used to the idea of his newly wed bride being so close, yet impossible to reach.

  Back at the cave, Silina lay heartbroken, curled in the nest she created from everything shinny and beautiful she could gather without bringing too much attention to herself. She had to be careful. Creating the nest was risky. They were trying to keep the first egg laying in centuries a secret until all this mess could be worked out. With emotions apt to run rampant the way they sometimes did with Dragons, who knew what might happen if the rest of them found out what they were hiding. They could expect not a moment’s peace or quiet, but it was the unexpected they were concerned about. Wars were started over much less than what was going on right now. With the possible heir to the throne trapped inside an egg, or on the other hand, the idea of trying to break open the very first fledgling to be born in hundreds of years could cause a massacre to say the least.

  She stared dreamily, consumed by the egg. “I’ll protect you little one,” she purred assuredly, “Mother will always protect you. They do not possess the force necessary to take you from me. They do not know what they are talking about. It is absolutely preposterous... When you hatch, we will show them all! Rylan just cannot stand the thought that we have you… and his precious Elise. Well sweetheart, I’d give him back his wife in a heartbeat. Darion and I have given up enough for the Dupranes! I don’t care if he is Darion’s best friend, or even that he’s the King of Neglavale, or… anything! He is not coming near you till you have safely hatched. Human!” she snorted, “as if!”

  As she said this, a little guilt edged its way into her mind. Rylan was good to them. He was a just Monarch and a valiant man, and he was going through hell. She should try to be more compassionate. But then she would look at her egg… not a chance. Nothing mattered to her more than that egg.

  She would die for it.

  The more she mulled this over in her mind, the
clearer the answer became. The only way she could protect her egg without anyone she loved getting hurt, was to take it and hide. She knew they would all be very upset, but at least no one would be dead.

  She felt justified.

  Quickly she wrapped the egg in the blanket Rylan had smuggled in for her to lay on. It was interwoven with gold thread and tiny gems were sewn into the pattern of Rylan’s family crest.

  After all, when they returned, Rylan would be the tiny Dragon’s Godfather. He would be a mentor and play a major role in the upbringing of his best friend’s young one, not to mention the first of the scaly half of Rylan’s subjects to be born in his lifetime.

  Clutching the bundle to her breast with one mighty claw, she hobbled awkwardly on three legs out of the cave. Scanning the horizon, she could only make out friends and acquaintances sunning themselves on their shelves, or busy flying on errands of their own. Taking one last longing look at her wonderful home, she leapt out into the dazzling sun and sped towards the west. This was a gamble. If she were spotted by Darion and Rylan, they would put her under guard for the remainder of the incubation period.

  It being such a beautiful day, she felt she knew Darion well enough to assume he would be in the northern region near the woods he loved so much. Even if she were spotted heading west by friends, she planned on circling back as soon as she was out of sight, and then she would head south toward Arilonia. They would never think to search for her there. It was too obvious. Besides, it did not hurt to stay close, in case she needed help. She could rely on her brothers-in-law, Michael and Dryfus, at Elise’s old Kingdom for anything she needed if it came to that. Also, when the Dragon hatched, she wanted to be able to get back to Darion as soon as possible. They were overdue for some happiness.

  Chapter 12

  Mollywog was a Wogasite. She lived alone for practically her entire unnaturally long life. She was an unstudied phenomenon, somewhat of a mix between a witch, a healer, and a midwife... and maybe a bit more.

  Listed among her successful deliveries was none other than Elise Alexandria Sharmain Belfast, well, now Duprane, Queen of Arilonia and Queen of Neglavale. That had been a very tricky one that one, and one she often thought about.

  She lived in a two-room cottage in the middle of one of Arilonia’s largest forests. Surrounding her home was as strange a collection of plant life as one could ever imagine. She had the only orange tree in all the land. In fact, nearly all her fruit trees were foreign to this area.

  Her herb garden rivaled the castles.

  Anyone brave enough to tour her glade might come upon any number of ‘natural’ wonders; ponds full of brightly colored fish, small exotic animals not found in these parts, and even hot running water. Most locals believed an underground hot spring must explain the miracle, but Mollywog never explained anything.

  She herself was a mystery. Villagers told stories of her to frighten their youngsters into good behavior. Often when they thought about it, they could remember the old grandmothers telling the same tales from their own youth.

  Old wives’ tales aside, if ever anyone really needed something important; be it a love potion, a midwife for a difficult birth, or a healer for a desperate family, they came to Mollywog. Suddenly her unorthodox ways were not so frightening, if the need was great enough.

  Her methods of payment were never discussed. It was a taboo topic, never mentioned, never questioned.

  Even the poorest families were never turned away, but always, only the most desperate sought her services. Some thought the payment a trifle, while others that seemed more than well off, deemed it a very high price in deed.

  On this morning Mollywog was working in her herb garden, picking leaves and digging roots for drying, to store away for winter.

  Lately she was feeling a little drawn. She tired more easily. It must be time for a change. Not your average change mind you, but an entirely complete change. Mollywog had not reached the ripe old age she was by eating sensibly and exercising. She was a Wogasite, an ancient breed not seen in this world any longer. She used other people’s life forces. She stored them up to use at will, and it was not always humans she used.

  She spent time as almost every creature in the forest. Some she enjoyed more than others though. For instance, she once turned herself into a bear a few months before its hibernation. When she came back to herself a couple months later, she had had to diet for months to lose the many extra pounds.

  Mollywog was saving a special year from a warrior she met many years back. Yes, she decided, that is exactly what she needed. The cabin’s roof leaked so bad she might as well sleep outdoors, and the little fence she loved so much was beginning to rot and needed replacing. A good strong back would do quite nicely right now. Not to mention, she might even slip in a little adventure or two for good measure, something to spice things up a bit. Who knew, she might even earn a wee bit to set aside for a rainy day. Not that it ever rained hard enough that Mollywog could not get what she needed, when she needed it mind you.

  Being a ‘mystery’ had its advantages. The more Mollywog mulled this over, the more excited she became. She could not wait for the change, but first there were a few preparations to be made. “Learn from experience old girl, I always say,” she cackled to herself. “With the amount of experience ya got stored up, you must be the wisest old coot in the world,” she complemented herself. What experience mostly taught Mollywog, was that just when you thought you knew everything; life had the audacity to throw in something new.

  First thing Mollywog needed was to go into town and get some clothes. Once, she went straight from a majestic stag back into her primary self and wandered naked for weeks before she came across a settlement where she could steal a frock. She would never forget the cold nights. And besides, how would her mighty warrior look strutting powerfully into town in old lady rags to barter for some armor.

  The next morning, she decided to visit Arilonia’s prosperous little town. Word of her arrival spread like a mist blowing in from the bog.

  Whispers started low and breezed through the streets, as if they were afraid to speak out loud on the off chance they might be stricken where they stood. No one dared to hide or turn away in disgust. Here was the enigma from all their childhood stories walking down the center of town, as if it were just a normal day. This day would be talked about, and embellished upon, until once again the feared and revered Mollywog of the forest, had apparently performed not one, but a dozen separate miracles for the townspeople to add to their campfire stories.

  If her mystery were not enough to silence the most prejudiced, she was still under protection of the late King Belfast. It was written in the archives that for the lifetime of the old woman, whatever she requested, be given post haste and the merchant would be reimbursed at the castle. This had been part of the payment she had extracted for helping the young Princess Elise into the world. Mollywog rarely took advantage of this, opting to keep her life simple. Too many trips to town would get people thinking; just how long was this old woman supposed to live anyhow? People did not like the supernatural. It made them nervous. Though outlawed, stake burnings were not altogether a thing of the past.

  As Mollywog approached the blacksmith, she knew her work was cut out for her. Here was a man who did not frighten easily, nor was she in any position to charm him. Maybe she should have used a week or two of that maiden force she hoarded so carefully? Ah, it would not do to go from a blushing maiden into a warrior though. Sometimes it took a while for the transformation to be complete. Sometimes, if she tried to change too often, the force from the last person would have a residual effect on the next.

  She would be dammed if she would let her fierce warrior have any maidenly qualities.

  The Blacksmith, a great hulk of a man, was busy with a sword that had been ordered from the castle. After he expanded his shop with the jewels the Queen had given him years ago for fixing her crown, he also acquired the special tools needed to make the most intricate designs. Dry
fus had commissioned the sword for Mickael’s upcoming birthday this fall. How they ever kept anything a secret from each other baffled him. He had received a note last month with the request, and an explanation that he was not to bring it to the castle. It would be picked up when ready. Well, it was turning out to be one of his best pieces. It had all gone together so easily. He was way ahead of schedule. The Regent would be more than satisfied.

  As the sweat ran in rivulets down his soot-covered chest, the Blacksmith held the weapon up for final inspection. He had just finished adding the final touches to the ornate hilt. It was in the shape of a Dragon. Where you grasped the hilt was the stomach of the Dragon. The tail circled back from the pummel to be the knuckle-bar and the wings at the top of the hilt spread wide to become the cross-guard. The blade spat from the beast’s mouth like a fiery tongue ready to devour the enemy.

  “Perfect!” Mollywog exclaimed coming into the shop. “Wrap it up and show me some armor to match its perfection!”

  “Yer daft old woman,” the Blacksmith growled, “pick another from the pile, you’re not worthy to have even glimpsed the sight of such a beauty.”

  He didn’t care what she had done for the ‘Old King’. He knew the old law, but it could not possible apply here. It couldn’t be worth giving the old hag a weapon fit for a King. He had to admit this blade was probably even too good for a Regent.

  He was beginning to think he might have to make another for Mickael either way. This sword would do better in the hands of a mighty Prince waging war, than a Regent who valued peace above all.

  “Tis not for me, ya surly brute and it’s not fer you to question the doins of old Mollywog. Wrap up the blade and ere’s the measurements fer the armor. I’ll be takin it with me too.” She threw an old corner of parchment at the scowling face before turning and stalking out the door.

  The Blacksmith had no intention of releasing the sword to the Witch, but just to placate the old hag, he got to work on the armor she requested. It wouldn’t do to get a Witch too angry with you. He did not believe half the stories they told about old Mollywog, but the half he did believe, were enough to make him take her a bit seriously.