Dragon's Blood

by Jason J. Nugent

  He returned the smile. “Nothing at all. With Brida at our side, we’ll always have a chance!” The snowcat didn’t turn her head at the sound of her name.

  They continued west, following the sun, toward the Dragon Lands and her father. Near nightfall, they settled into a small clearing under a pine tree to rest for the night. Not long after, they heard the crunching of leaves in the distance. Footsteps?

  “Do you hear that?” Alushia asked in a whisper.

  Ryn nodded. Brida shot upright, her head cocked to the side. Her ears perked up as she listened to the sound. Alushia felt an impression of danger come to her from Brida, a sensation the snowcat rarely shared.

  “Stay here. I’ll check it out,” Ryn said,

  “Are you kidding me? I can defend myself! We’ll all go.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, and nodded instead. “All right, this way, then,” he whispered.

  Carefully they picked their way through low branches and watched the ground so as not to snap a twig or crunch leaves. The footsteps were louder as they got closer.

  Alushia tapped Ryn on the shoulder, making the dragon-man flinch. She held back her laughter. “Hey, does that sound like more than one person?”

  Ryn listened to the footsteps. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Be ready for anything,” she replied. Ryn nodded and turned back into the direction they were headed.

  Brida slunk alongside them, her nose in the air and ears standing upright. The impression of danger coming from her was intense. She’d never shared that much anxiety with Alushia before and it scared her.

  Ryn squatted next to a bush and moved some branches aside to get a better view. “What is that?” he whispered.

  Alushia and Brida came up next to him and stared through the opening. “Are they…alive? What are they?”

  Moving through the forest were two figures, yet they didn’t quite look like people. It was a man and a woman that looked to be a few years older than Alushia. It was difficult to tell because of their dirty appearance and missing flesh.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” Ryn started, “but…no, it can’t be—” he raised a hand to his mouth.

  “What is it?” Alushia asked. Brida growled.

  “Calm down, girl. They aren’t a threat. Are they?” She grasped Ryn’s arm tightly.

  “They can be.”

  Alushia reached out to pull Brida closer but instead grabbed a branch that snapped in her grip. The two people stopped and slowly turned their bodies in their direction. The man-thing sniffed the air like an animal. His face was ashen and his eyes were solid gray, like smoke swirled inside his skull. His torn flesh exposed grayish muscles and the maw of his mouth was black. He had no shirt and his trousers were torn. Scrapes and gashes crossed his chest but didn’t bleed. A guttural groan escaped his mouth and the woman followed him toward them.

  “Oh no! Come on. They’re onto us!” Ryn said. Alushia watched as the pair shambled toward them with slow, unsteady movements.

  “Ryn, they won’t catch us. Look how slow they’re going.”

  Brida stood tall and growled. Her deep sounds scaring even Alushia.

  “We don’t want to mess with them, not now. If only I could change, I’d crush them both!”

  “What are they?”

  The gray couple became entangled in a thick mulberry bush, their arms and legs thrashing against the thin branches. Brida hissed, the fur on her spine standing tall.

  Ryn stopped trying to flee and watched carefully. Alushia noticed him holding his breath.

  “It’s ok, Ryn. They can’t get us. They’re stuck.”

  “Alushia, I have to keep you as far away from Myrthyd as possible. You cannot get near him, not with the Blood Stone in his possession. Do you hear me?”

  She smiled. “Ryn, I never knew you to care so much.”

  “I wish it were a laughing matter. You must stay away. Those dreams you’ve been having? They’re dangerous. If that night-wraith—”

  “What?”

  He shook his head as he watched the two people. “They’re gray-souls. They’re dead but alive, if that makes any sense.”

  Alushia turned to the pair frantically trying to push their way through the bush and failing terribly. “Gray-souls? No, it doesn’t.”

  Brida growled again.

  A twig snapped behind them. Alushia spun. Another shambling person—a gray-soul—was only a few steps away. It growled and moaned. It was a woman wearing a tattered and soiled tunic with one shoe missing. Some of her scalp was torn off, exposing dusty gray bone underneath. Her eyes were like dark clouds and there were deep gashes across the ashen skin on her arms and legs. She reached out and groaned.

  “Get away!” Ryn said, pushing Alushia aside. He fell where she was standing and the gray-soul woman tripped over him, landing on top of him.

  Alushia pushed herself up. Brida had backed away, hissing and snarling. Ryn struggled to fend off the woman. She attacked him with a ferocity Alushia hadn’t expected.

  “Get off me!”

  Alushia scanned the forest for something, anything to help Ryn. There was a large rock near her feet. She picked it up and slammed it down on the gray-soul woman’s head. A large crack sounded and Alushia did it again. This time, the woman stopped moving and fell over sideways.

  “Get her off me,” Ryn said. Alushia set the rock down and pushed the decaying body off Ryn and it fell in a heap next to him. He scrambled away, checking his arms and torso for any damage. Brushing the leaves off, he stood and extended a hand to Alushia to help her up. They stared at the gray-soul woman lying on the ground while listening to the struggles of the two still trying desperately to free themselves from the bush.

  “Why’d she do that?”

  Ryn wiped his face with his hand. “They’re mindless. They’re attracted to living flesh; usually human.”

  “That makes no sense. How could they possibly be driven by that?”

  Brida bounded into the clearing and then slowly stepped toward the gray-soul woman. Brida’s nose worked feverishly, sniffing the air and emitting a low growl.

  “It can’t harm us any more girl, it’s fine.” Alushia turned to Ryn. “Right? It’s dead now, isn’t it?”

  Ryn shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t have much experience with them. I’m going only by what I’ve been told.”

  Alushia sensed an impression of fear and relief come from Brida. The snowcat’s thoughts being more erratic lately than she could recall.

  “We need to remove her head.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  “That’s the only action I know of that stops them from being a gray-soul.”

  “Are you sure? That’s…just wrong.”

  “I can’t think of another way. Not unless I can change back to a dragon and burn her, but we both know how that has been.”

  Alushia wrinkled her nose in disgust. She imagined Ryn as a large dragon, blasting his flames on the gray-soul woman.

  “Is she a person?”

  “She was. She isn’t anymore. When her mind went and she turned into this, she ceased being a person and is now a gray-soul, cursed to roam the land, doing the bidding of the one who created her.”

  “Created?”

  “We need to get rid of her head before she comes back.”

  Alushia thought about Ryn’s words and tried to make sense of them.

  “Alushia?” he called, interrupting her. “We have to cut off her head. Now.”

  Alushia handed him her long knife. “Here. I can’t.”

  Ryn took the knife and sliced into the base of her neck. He struggled to cut through her flesh and bone, but with an extra effort, he separated her head from her body. Very little blood dripped from the wound.

  “How can that be?” Alushia whispered. “Where is the blood?”

  “She’s not normal. Not anymore. Promise me you’ll stay away from Myrthyd. Promise me you’ll flee the dreams with the night-wraith.”
<
br />   Alushia scrunched her face. “You don’t make any sense.”

  “Just promise!” he snarled, his tone out of character.

  “Sure. Fine. I promise. Are we done here?”

  Ryn wiped the blade on the woman’s grimy tunic. “Yeah, I think we are.”

  Brida turned back toward the pair stuck in the bush. They didn’t seem to be any closer to freedom and Alushia had no desire to get closer.

  Nine

  It had been two days since Jor removed the woman’s head and it still bothered her.

  “Belthos, tell me again about the gray-souls.”

  Belthos ran his hand across his shiny forehead and turned to the rest of the group. Tozgan removed his cap, twisted it, and raised his hands in surrender. Ori shook his head, a grin forming on his face.

  “As I understand it—and mind you, this is not from official Order training—is that they were people who lost their minds and turned feral, desiring to feast on the flesh of the living.”

  “That’s preposterous! How do the dead walk? How do they act like people? There has to be something more.”

  “But Jor, that’s just it. There isn’t more. They’re gray-souls.”

  She waved a hand at him. “I don’t care to discuss it further. It makes my head sore.” The two crossbowmen held back laughter while Jor turned from Belthos toward the stream ahead.

  “What?” Belthos asked. Tozgan and Ori both shook their heads and followed Jor to the water’s edge.

  Jor sat and unloaded her gear. The relief from carrying all her belongings satisfied more than she expected. It had been too long since she enjoyed a good bed and a restful night’s sleep. If it weren’t for Belthos continually healing her, removing the tired achiness from her, she had no idea how she would’ve made it.

  “Belthos, why aren’t there more of them?”

  “More of what?” he replied, sitting next to her. Ori and Tozgan sat closer to the stream, both men drinking their fill of the cool water.

  “The gray-souls. Why aren’t there more of them? I’ve been all over Tregaron and never heard of them. How is it that now I encounter them?”

  “I honestly don’t know. As I said, my ma told me these stories, and I always thought they were made up to keep the kids in line. What child would wander into the forest when the threat of a gray-soul visitor lurking amongst the trees existed? Never in my life had I believed the stories. Not until now, that is.”

  Jor nodded. Whatever else Belthos knew, it would all be heresy anyway. “I guess we’re onto something. I don’t know how but we must try to find out more about them. I doubt I can keep removing their heads. Something has to work on them.”

  Unsure if she wanted to keep trekking through the forest in the night, Jor decided to set up camp near the stream. Her bones ached and traveling didn’t appeal much. Lailoken would be found. He had to be alive.

  That night, the group sat around a blazing fire and told stories of past glory.

  “One time when I was on the coast near Bayfrost, we were pinned down by a horde of Lapiz dragons,” Tozgan said. The group stared at him with wide eyes. Jor smirked. She knew he’d been on many hunts throughout Tregaron. Listening to his tales was like listening to Lailoken spin his stories of the hunt.

  “An entire horde? Of how many?” Belthos asked.

  “Maybe eight to ten. Don’t interrupt me, boy! I’ll lose my place.”

  Belthos leaned back against a tree and Jor giggled to herself. Belthos had grown into a valuable member of the group, but he was still a boy.

  “Anyway, there we were, trapped by a horde of Lapiz with nothing to protect us but my crossbow and three swords. Realizing how badly outnumbered we were, we devised a plan—”

  “To run?” Ori asked, punching the man on the arm. Tozgan frowned.

  “No. To kill them one by one.”

  The group fell silent again. Tozgan continued.

  “We found a small cave that offered us protection but only allowed one dragon in at a time. We raced into that dark cavern and took position inside. The leader of our hunt, the slayer Kenleth, was a wise man and clearly understood the need for us to pick them off one by one. They rarely visit land, preferring to live in the sea, but we were lucky to have found them. He sent one of his junior slayers just outside the cave’s mouth and made the boy scream obscenities at the dragons.”

  Jor laughed. “He sent a boy to scream curse words at dragons? That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time! Please, you must finish this tale!”

  Tozgan smiled and nodded, then continued.

  “The boy launched into a tirade, screaming about their mothers and how he’d enjoy wearing their hides on his feet. It was quite the show! Anyway, he yelled until one of the Lapiz took the bait. It dropped from the sky and launched at him. I’ve never seen a person run as fast as I did that day! He tumbled into the cavern with the Lapiz on his heels, spitting its deadly ice breath and nearly freezing all of us. But we knew what to do whether we could feel or not. The Lapiz followed him in until it was caught between us. Kenleth gave the signal and we attacked it. It never stood a chance. I sunk several bolts into its thick hide while the other slayers sliced into it with their swords. It was a glorious moment as we butchered that beast.”

  Belthos gasped. The group turned to him.

  “Sorry, I was caught in the story.”

  “After we slayed that dragon, we tried the tactic again. We found similar success with two more dragons before they grew wise to our scheme and flew away, roaring into the cold air and then diving under the sea. We were close enough to Bayfrost to have several of the Magus come and infuse their gems with the blood of those dragons. I was told afterwards that the Lapiz Tower had never been so blessed as they were that day.”

  “What a tale!” Ori exclaimed. “We have ourselves a marvelous slayer of dragons!”

  Belthos and Ori applauded. Jor nodded in his direction.

  “I give you credit, Tozgan. You can spin a tale,” she said.

  “It’s true. Every last word of it. Ask Kenleth yourself!”

  “Aye, when we return to Tregaron with Lailoken, we’ll do just that.”

  Afterward, they watched the fire as the chill of night settled in on them. One by one, they laid down and fell asleep, Jor waiting until the last, making sure the group rested first.

  In the light of the morning sun, they were awakened by an awful screeching to the south. The group shot straight up. Jor felt the warmth of Belthos’ magic envelop her. Probably a healing spell, if she had to guess, to make sure they were ready for a fight.

  “What is that?” Ori asked.

  “I’ve never heard such a thing!” Jor replied. “Arms men. We’re in a dangerous land. Prepare yourselves.”

  Tozgan and Ori slung quivers over their shoulders and grabbed their crossbows. Jor unsheathed her broadsword and Belthos joined the others with the stone around his neck his only defense.

  They followed the horrific screeching through the forest, Jor leading them closer and closer.

  “By Meanos!” Jor exclaimed. “Look!”

  She pointed to a cluster of pine trees. Dancing around them were four griffons, their wings beating madly. They roared, but it was different from the typical deep dragon roar and carried a bit of a screech.

  “Griffons! Have you ever seen them so close?” she asked, turning to Tozgan.

  “Never. Until this journey, I didn’t even think they were real!”

  “What are they doing?” Belthos asked.

  The group silenced and watched the griffons as they appeared to be fending off some creature.

  “That’s a gray-soul!” Tozgan said.

  Jor looked closer and noticed the shambling gray-soul blindly following its nose in search of flesh.

  “It’s attempting to devour the griffons. Don’t they see how futile that is?”

  Belthos spoke. “Remember, they aren’t alive like us. They’re dead and incapable of reason. Their bodies are shells seeking food;
nothing more.”

  “That’s impossible,” Jor replied. “People don’t act that way.”

  “Look!” Ori said, pointing at the scene, “It’s quite possible! I didn’t think the boy was right, either, but my eyes don’t lie. Do yours?”

  Jor shook her head. “What menace is unleashed upon our world? How did we get to this? The dead walking amongst the living and griffons in the north. Our world is in danger, my friends. Let’s leave these creatures to fend for themselves. We have a duty to our friend, not to these…things.”

  Jor marched back to camp and began storing her things in her bag, the others slowly dragging themselves away from the gray-soul and the griffons to do the same. Once they recovered everything, they followed Jor westward.

  “We’ll find you yet, Lailoken, and slay every last dragon, griffon, or gray-soul who stands in our way,” Jor said to herself. The presence of the new threat only meant more enemies, and she was ready to have her blade taste blood again.

  Ten

  Lailoken watched as a procession of dragons bowed to Etain, offering their obedience and swearing fealty to her. She was seated on a stone throne at the outer edge of the cavern’s mouth. The ceremony was both a magnificent sight and a fearful one. He’d never known dragons to act in such a manner. To him and all of Tregaron, they were cruel beasts; trophies to acquire. What he’d witnessed since his time in captivity contradicted those beliefs.

  Every once in a while, Etain turned to him, and he swore he could see a smile on those dragon lips of hers. He didn’t return the gesture but appreciated it all the same. If he had to live amongst his enemy, at least he could find solace in knowing Etain would not allow them to harm him.

  After the day’s last dragon knelt before her, Etain turned into a bright ball of light and emerged in the form of his human wife once again, stepping down the stone stairs. Her beauty was matchless. It was her eyes, those captivating eyes that he saw in his mind ever since her disappearance. They still looked on him with passion and love.

  “My dear, I see you’ve taken food,” Etain said as she approached. She moved with a regal gait, walking slowly as if to display her importance.