by Teresa Grant
As they were discussing the first scouts report, a second scout came marching into the room.
“Your brothers, along with Sir Luther and their armies, are approaching, Captain,” he addressed Drake, “seven ships in all.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Drake answered for Rylan.
Peter had grown into a fine young man. After spending a few years under Luther’s influence, everyone was pleasantly surprised to find what an excellent soldier he turned out to be when he had returned with Luther on his last visit. Peter had decided to stay and joined the guards protecting the castle.
“Bring them straight here once they’ve docked. Get them to set up camp in the west pastures,” Drake added.
While they waited, they discussed different options. Rylan stared absently at the crown on Darion’s brow as he let his mind wander. It always reassured him that although he could not see her, Elise was still there beside him. Tuning back into the conversation, he explained how reluctant he was to keep Arilonia’s armies here unnecessarily, but did not want to chance sending them back in case this was only a lull in the storm.
Hours later, Mickael and Dryfus strode into the hall followed by Duncan, head of Arilonia’s army, and Luther.
“Greetins family!” Luther bellowed from behind, never missing a chance to announce to all in hearing that, yes, he was related (no matter how distantly) to Royalty.
He even went so far as to grab Darion by the head and plant a kiss on his cheek, with a wink he added, “you still in thar cousin? How’s the quarters? He’s not startin ta charge ya room an board in thar yet, now is he?” he asked with a chuckle.
Poor Darion was the only one to hear the loud groan from Elise. It was the same every time. Luther was never known for his tact.
“Looks as though the enemy took one quick look at me an’ me lads comin’ ta the rescue, an skeedadled away. Ifn’ ya’d like, the boys and me can hang aroun’ for a bit ta make sure they don’ intend on comin’ back.”
Rylan would never get used to the feeling of being glad to see someone and wanting to throttle them at the same time, but he took Luther’s offer in good spirits.
Drake on the other hand, had no such mixed emotions. If it weren’t for Elise, Luther would have been barbequed a long time ago. “Keep your men under control this time, Luther,” he growled. “Our farmer’s daughters are off limits, and our Dragons are not for hire!”
“Keep yer scales on thar, Magisty,” Luther chided him. “We’ll all be on our best behavior, ya’ve me word on it.”
Before Drake could respond, Dryfus and Mickael changed the subject.
“Father, how goes everything else, have there been many casualties?” Dryfus asked Drake.
“No son and I’m glad to see you. After the first attack, we were pretty much under siege conditions the entire time. That’s what I can’t understand. Why would the demons leave so suddenly?” Turning away to silence Luther before he could begin again, he added, “They disappeared sometime during the night. By daybreak they were gone. It’s as though they got what they came for, but we have no idea what that could have been.”
Darion looked to Rylan for confirmation of what he had just heard Drake say, but Rylan could not hold his gaze. A sick feeling was creeping into the pit of his belly and he could not deny what Darion silently suggested. Had Silina been trying to make it back home and been abducted?
Once all the extra troops were set up, and Luther and Darion were safely out of earshot, Mickael and Dryfus asked Rylan for a private audience.
Dreading the news, and assuming it was something to do with Silina, Rylan showed them into his private chambers.
“Let’s hear it then,” Rylan sighed, but it was far from what he was expecting.
“Branadon!”
He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. It just could not be.
“You’re sure?” Rylan asked for the hundredth time.
“Yes!” Mickael assured him, “I know it sounds incredible…”
“Incredible?” Rylan cut in, “it’s absurd, it’s unbelievable, it’s, it’s… are you certain?”
Mickael rolled his eyes and tried again, “He’s at the old crone Mollywog’s cottage. After everything he said, we all felt it wouldn’t be fair to put Elise through seeing him again when he knows he only has one year.”
“Do you think we made the right choice?” Dryfus interrupted. “Branadon doesn’t even remember her anyways, or rather, the way he puts it, he only ever met her as a baby.”
“I don’t know,” Rylan answered. “I wish I could talk this over with Darion. I just do not think Elise could stand anything else… but I would give anything to go and talk to the Dwarf again. You say he had a boy with him. Who was he? A student of Mollywog’s perhaps?” Rylan wanted to know.
Both Mickael and Dryfus couldn’t say, “We were just so astounded to be talking to Branadon, we really didn’t pay much attention to the boy. He was probably just some kid he picked up along the way. Probably using him as a page or something. We’ve never seen the boy around before,” Mickael said. “The other thing we wanted to talk to you about was Silina. Did she make it here safely?” Dryfus asked.
The silence and look on Rylan’s face was answer enough.
“We tried to stop her, but she blasted right through my guard. I wasn’t about to get anyone killed by going after her. She was coming home. We told her about the war. She shrieked something about having wonderful news for all of you and took off. A whole patrol couldn’t have stopped her.” Mickael’s words dropped off as he saw the color draining from Rylan’s face.
“Did she have anything with her?” he asked, standing up and moving in closer to them. “Was she carrying an egg, a bundle, anything?”
“No, nothing,” Mickael assured him. “Why?”
“We better get Darion in here,” Rylan sighed and headed for the door to have one of the servants fetch him. While they waited, Rylan told them what Elise said, about there being something very wrong with a Dragon nearby.
“But we can’t be certain the demons have her,” Dryfus argued.
Just then Darion came in. Leaving out everything about Branadon, they told him what Mickael and Dryfus had just reported.
Darion started to burn. “Why didn’t we listen to Elise in the beginning? Look at the head start they’ve got. We have to go after her!” he stormed.
“We will, Darion, we will,” Rylan assured him. “But we need to have a plan. We don’t even know which way they went, or even what we’re up against. We can’t waste any more valuable time going in the wrong direction. We have no proof they have her. She could still be out there.”
As if on que, a scout came in with a package. Reluctantly he handed it to Darion. “I’m so very sorry your grace, we found this by the site where the demons had their main camp,” the man told him.
Unwrapping the bundle, the room shook with the violent explosion of Darion’s anguished roar.
Inside the package were bits of what looked like shredded leather. Although it could have come from any number of Dragon wings, the one small silver scale tipped in gold nestled in the middle, was unique to only one.
His Silina!
What had they done to her?
Chapter 17
It was imperative that Slater get back to the mountain as soon as possible before more help could arrive and upset his plans. Garr’s Scales had to be preserved as a source for more minions.
He did not have as good a knack as his mother for making slaves, but with this new demon form, he found himself able to perform all sorts of wonderful new talents. Besides, the way his mother had preferred breeding her little followers, had been so dismally slow. The Scale was a readymade endless supply for him. He was already their hero for simply escaping. A triumphant return would be just the answer. There were a few of the larger evil things that he had had to ‘persuade’ into subservience before they would come with him, but most of them were all willing to have him for their lord, and
were anxiously awaiting his return.
He knew the territory. He had the power. He’d been through the valve and survived to tell about it. But what impressed the masses most of all, was that he was a real descendant of Rhom the Conqueror. That was just too ironic. They loved it!
He couldn’t wait to get back to The Scale, but for now, Slater transported Silina to his old castle. It was not easy accomplishing that in secrecy, but no one would think to look for them there. The beauty of his plan was simple, so far, no one even guessed who the enemy was. They all thought him dead. Well, I guess you could technically say they were right, but, nevertheless, the only one who knew who he was, other than Kathrin, was laying semi-conscious in the dungeon, utterly helpless.
His cousin, Lady Kathrin, had been looking after the place since their escape from Neglavale the last time. She took over in his absence and was not happy about his return. She thought him dead and was terrified of his new appearance. There was no time to reassure her, and he did not want her around to share in his glory either. She really was of no further use to him. To keep her quiet, he let her take a hefty bundle from the treasury, and then she practically ran out the door. After all, he wasn’t entirely heartless; she might be of some use in the future.
Silina’s wings were in such bad shape, they had had to amputate in order to keep the gangrene from spreading and taking her life. Sedric wanted her alive to study, and she would also make excellent bait.
He hadn’t known those wonderful flying bug-things he found in cocoons left from his mother, would turn out to be so valuable. The stupid Dwarves hadn’t even noticed they were there. They had been hanging too far up above the scales for them to reach, and their cocoons were well camouflaged.
His mother had been waiting ages for them to hatch.
What wonderful timing, finding them ready to emerge and bringing them along when he had escaped. Mother always put special spells on her creations so they wouldn’t pop out at just any old time. Once fully formed they would lay dormant and wait for her command before they hatched. She even let him say the spells when he was growing up. It was always a special treat that they would celebrate together. Back when she still held hopes that he would show some promise as a successful sorcerer.
“Well mother, take a look at me now!” he laughed.
It was a shame he had been forced to destroy the bugs after he left Neglavale.
He sent them to the bottom of the ocean. It would have been hard to hide thousands of flying, humongous bug-things. They were so loud too. He still didn’t know exactly what they were, but he knew where more cocoons lay dormant if he should need them again. There were many such experiments hidden beneath his own dungeons, here at his castle. Mother had little caches hidden here and there. By now they should all be fully developed and waiting.
Pity Mother couldn’t be here for his triumphant victory. He still wasn’t sure if he was sad, or glad, or mad, about his mother’s fate. Sure, she had ‘killed’ him, putting him into the evil side of Garr’s Scale, but all things considered, things had turned out rather good for him.
Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, he mussed aloud, “Now… how to control a Dragon. They’re so damned tough,” he spoke to no one in particular. He had almost had it last time. It would have been a lot simpler back then, with them being contained and helpless inside their Shifter hosts. Well, he’d get it eventually.
In the room along with him, were the creatures he had brought from The Scale that he felt possessed enough intelligence to be of some use to him, but not smart enough to have too high of aspirations. His favorite was the gargoyle. He had been guarding the valve when Slater first entered the quagmire. That was a bit of a tricky time there when Elise and her pet screwed everything up. But once they left the Scale, Gargle, or so Slater affectionately had named him, helped pull him back through the valve and he had been guarding him instead, ever since. Once she had released him from his duty, the stubborn beast followed him around like a puppy. It wasn’t easy bringing him when they escaped the mountain, but it was well worth it. The thing was formidable.
“Well Gargle, why don’t you and I go and pay our feisty guest a little visit. Too bad about the wings, but it does help keep her from flying away now, doesn’t it?” he chuckled, patting the Gargoyle on the head.
Slater marched from the room with his faithful companion at his heals.
“Mother, if you could only see me now,” he joyfully repeated. It was becoming his mantra.
Silina awoke with the fog in her head finally beginning to clear. She was fading in and out of consciousness with fever and didn’t have a clue where she was. A steel band was secured around her snout keeping her from being able to bite or breathe fire. She tried to stretch and noticed all four legs were shackled to the ground with iron chains. She had just enough length to stand but not walk anywhere. Her wings felt on fire. She tried to extend them but when she turned her head to see the damages, she almost passed out. Where her lovely, beautiful wings once were, there were only bandages now.
She tried to bite at them, but the steel muzzle kept her from getting a grip. Realization was slowly setting in. Even if she could remove the bandages, there was no way there was room for wings beneath the small mounds of rags. Her body temperature rose so high the rags ignited, the iron shackles started to smoke, but no matter how upset she was, the metal would not melt.
She slumped to the floor with tears cascading down her cheeks. “What have they done?” she cried.
“Tsk tsk tsk, you’re being a wee bit ungrateful. Those wings were a small price to pay for your life, weren’t they? Had we left them on you’d be dead by now,” Slater soothed the Dragon from the doorway. He was waiting for the temperature to drop enough for him to safely enter.
It all came rushing back to her, the fight in the air, the hard landing, and the waking up to find Slater alive in demon form.
“All things considering, you’re really not that bad off,” he assured her, as she eyed him warily, tiny streams of smoke escaping the muzzle at every crack.
“Our only problem would seem to be, what to do with you now. As a Race, I am discovering that Dragon’s minds seem to be surrounded in plated armor tougher than their hides, figuratively speaking. Even unconscious you were able to withstand my most persistent mind spells.”
As he spoke, he circled Silina. He never grew tired of looking at her. She was magnificent, even with her injuries she looked so regal. Lost in admiration Slater just missed the lightening flick of her tail that barely missed him but caught the Gargoyle happily prancing behind him, full in the face.
Slater ducked as the Gargoyle flew over his head and smashed against the far wall, falling unconscious to the floor.
“Nice shot,” he congratulated her, as he chuckled. “Luckily Gargoyles are made of just as tuff of stuff as you Dragons. Are you certain they’re not some distant relation? I’m rather fond of this one though, and I’d hate to have to punish you for his untimely death. By the way, thanks for showing me the blunder I overlooked. That tail will need to be chained immediately. Goodness but all this steel must be uncomfortable.
“Sleeeeep Silina,” he breathed, coming close to her lashing head and breathing his acrid breath in her face. “Sleeeep and we’ll talk again soon.”
The simple sleeping spell was about the only damn thing he’d found that would work on the Dragon. Simple, but effective. He now walked over to the Gargoyle as it rolled itself over and unsteadily got to his feet.
“Nasty serpent. Should kill. Has no use. Never control it!” he growled.
“Gargle, you are so wrong! She does have a use. I may not be able to control this Dragon, but we can use this Dragon to control the rest!”
Chapter 18
Back at Mollywog’s cabin, the Dwarves woke up, and still could’t believe Branadon was not a figment of the ale induced imagination of the night before.
Since they learned of the siege at Neglavale, and Arilonia on route to help, th
ey knew any help from that direction would have to wait. “We’d love to stay and visit cousin, but we’ve a mountain to defend. What say you make the best out of this ‘year’ of yours, and come back with us? Looks like this boy could use a little better class of company anyways. We’ll teach him how real men fight,” Faradon taunted Branadon.
“About all he’d learn from the likes of you two, was which end of the ale barrel to drink from,” Branadon growled. “I could put you both down with one arm tied behind my back. Look at you old goats. How come they haven’t retired the two of you yet?” Although Branadon had only been dead a year, the year he was taken from, made him younger than his cousins. At least it was some small satisfaction in a time where he needed all the advantages he could get. He was enjoying it too, in this one-upmanship he constantly played with his relatives.
“Thinking you’re a young buck again are ya? Well, come along and prove it then. Or do ya fancy sticking around here playing house all year?” Borris added.
Nathanial was listening, hoping they would indeed go with the Dwarves. What an adventure it would be. Although it would take him further away from his family, he had all the time in the world to meet them, but Branadon’s days were numbered.
Nathanial didn’t know why, but he could do things. He would think of something he wanted, or about something he wanted to happen, and presto, it would happen. It would start with a tingling sensation in his head. It would build, and build, until a tiny explosion went off in his mind, almost like when his ears would pop after swimming in the nearby pond. Then the object would be there, usually changed from something else, or he could move an object from one place to another or exchange their places. Sometimes though, if he wasn’t concentrating hard enough, the things that came to him were very wrong, like the time he had wanted to hold the bullfrog that was keeping him up each night. One morning he went looking for it and decided to try and conjure it up. While doing so, he was distracted thinking about breakfast and his grumbling stomach. What appeared before him was a half-cooked frog with porridge oozing out its mouth.