Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy

by Warren, Samantha

  "You bet." As the men went to deal with the remaining riders, Bellithana took a length of rope from her many pockets and tied the still puking man's hands in front of him before going in to see to the silver dragon. The tiny creature crouched in the corner with a worried look on his face, his eyes always on his master.

  "He's going to be so mad when he wakes up," he lamented.

  "That doesn't matter. You don't answer to him anymore. He is no longer your master."

  The dragon looked at her dubiously, but stepped out of the stall, carefully avoiding the man laying on the ground. He edged as far away from his former master as he could while still keeping in the light of Belli's torch.

  "So, what's your name?" Belli's voice made the little dragon jump more than a foot in the air.

  "Oh, um, it's Jacothalon, but everyone calls me Jake."

  "Well, hello, Jake. I'm Bellithana, but everyone calls me Belli. My friend with the mace was Bolgor. People just call him Bolgor." She smiled and bowed to the dragon, who returned the bow with one of his own before creeping close enough to lick her affectionately.

  They heard voices from the other end of the aisle before they saw the men come into view. Bolgor led the way, his mace swinging calmly in its sheath. He joked with the two Gypsies as they made their way back to where Belli stood. When she asked what happened, he responded easily.

  "There were nearly a dozen empty bottles on the floor already. The battle has been going on for an hour and they were all completely smashed. Didn't even put up a fight. We just tied all their hands behind their backs and left them laying on the floor." He nudged the man at his feet, who had taken the opportunity to pass out. "Might as well just leave this one, too. No point in killing them. They'll suffer enough if their commander makes it back."

  "I agree. Let's get out of here." Belli nodded at the Gypsies and they led the way into the courtyard where the rest of the Gypsies and dragons were waiting.

  One of the Gypsies stepped forward to greet them. "We have another group in the hatchery. They neutralized the guards and have started moving the hatchlings to the wagons."

  "Alright, let's get going." Bolgor headed off toward the hatchery, the little silver dragon bobbing along happily beside him, sneezing every few feet. Belli walked behind the other dragons, noticing that one of them had thick welts across his back and was supported by two other dragons as they went. It was clear why he was left behind. Most of the dragons snuffled or carried cloths like Jake did and Belli wondered if a bug had been going around the stables. She had seen the flu knock half of the Jaje dragons on their hindquarters several winters ago and she remembered the trouble Lana's father had finding a cure.

  Bolgor reached the hatchery before the others and found several Gypsies inside. Hatchlings of all ages were being prepared for movement to the wagons waiting in the woods behind the building. Some of them were nearly old enough to go to a training camp, while the youngest was barely a week old. She was being wrapped in cloaks to keep the rain off her and was still small enough to be hoisted over one of the Gypsy's shoulders.

  Bolgor jumped in and helped where he could and they were able to get the dragons all loaded into the wagons before the battle near the city was finished. The injured dragon was loaded onto a wagon, as well, and they set off toward Atina. Bolgor and Bellithana watched them go before turning back toward the city. The skies were thinning of dragons, meaning the battle was coming to a close. They waited a bit longer before making their way back up the mud-covered slopes toward the south gate.

  Chapter 39

  By the time they reached the south gate, the only dragons visible above Rona were Gypsy dragons. Prigol met them and spoke with Bellithana for a bit, using his translation device to include Bolgor in the conversation. Bolgor tried to pay attention to his friend's description of the battles over the anti-dragon devices, but he did not want to stand at the south gate and chat. He was desperate to find the son of Sigurd and his protector, the woman Bolgor loved dearly. Prigol and Belli had been chatting and laughing for nearly a quarter of an hour before Bolgor's impatience won out.

  "I'm going to go find Lana."

  The edge in his voice made his friends look at him quizzically, but Belli nodded and agreed to come with him. After saying their goodbyes to Prigol, they worked their way through the city. The streets were flooded with people. Some rejoiced in the defeat of the queen's military; others carried their most precious belongings in hastily-packed parcels on their backs, making their way swiftly for the closest gate.

  The Gypsy guards who roamed the city let them go. There was no point in forcing people to remain in the city. They had been living under a tyrant's rule for too long. The Gypsies were not going to come into the people's homes and make their lives any harder than they had already been. But the Gypsies were also not going to let the people overreact to the pressure they had been living under and exact revenge on their fellow citizens. Bolgor and Belli came upon a squabble in the streets. Some citizens had attempted to loot a food store, hoping to start a riot. The Gypsies quashed the riot before it began and put the looters in chains. They presented themselves to the people as kind beings who refused to let harm come to those who did not deserve it.

  Belli and Bolgor continued on through the streets, making their way to the square. It teemed with people who had been shut inside for the last month and they had a tough time getting through the crowds. Children screamed with laughter and dashed between the market carts that had been brought out, while their parents wandered through the mazes of wares, browsing goods that had been created during the forced month-long hiatus the vendors endured. Much to Bolgor's dismay, Belli paused along the way, stopping to examine some of the more interesting creations the curfew gave birth to. Sighing in frustration, he gripped her arm tighter than necessary and pulled her through the throng of bodies, shoving people out of the way until they reached the far side of the square.

  Pulling her arm from his grip, Belli glared at him. "What is your problem?"

  "Lana could be out there somewhere, needing our help! And all you want to do is look at stupid vases!"

  "Calm down, Bolgor. I'm sure both she and Ychthorn are just fine. Someone would have found us if they weren't. But you are right. We should go find them and see how they fared in the battle."

  She patted his arm and headed toward the north gates. As they neared the area, the crowds thinned and the air grew heavy. Blood could be seen on the cobblestones lining the streets and the sightings grew more frequent the further north they went. Houses began to show signs of damage, a couple displaying broken windows, some missing bricks along the corners. When the wall came into sight, the damage escalated exponentially. Large patches of roofs were missing and whole houses were diminished to burned piles of rubble.

  Near the gate, Gypsies and soldiers worked together to clear the streets of both human and dragon bodies. They were being laid just outside the gates in rows to be identified later. Some already had mourners gathered around them. Belli and Bolgor searched the bodies, their jaws clenched, their hearts both hopeful and fearful at once. Relief flooded them briefly as they reached the end of the bodies near the gate, until they noticed another morgue forming further down the path. They paused for a moment, glancing at each other briefly before looking to the east where tents had been set up to serve as emergency medical stations.

  "We should check the other bodies before going down there," Belli said. "Just in case."

  They walked toward the morgue forming to one side of the path, down a shallow slope, scanning the battlefield for signs of their friends. They reached the bodies, which had been laid on a shallow knoll, and walked toward the crest of the small hill. Belli reached the top first, as Bolgor examined each body carefully along the way. Her gasp brought him to her side quickly and together they took off at a run. On the far side of the hill, in a shallow dent in the land, lay the son of Sigurd, the large red dragon they had been entrusted to care for, the dragon who had become one of th
eir best friends over the past years. They could see no sign of Chelandra, but several Gypsies milled around the dragon, some carrying medical supplies while others stood guard.

  Bolgor outpaced Belli by several feet and reached the dragon before her. He could see several deep gashes in Thorn's chest and blood pooled on the ground beneath his body. A shudder ran through Bolgor and he feared the worst until he saw the dragon take a ragged breath. His fears for Ychthorn transformed as he recognized the blood-soaked leather straps of the saddle being cut away from the wounds and he grabbed one of the Gypsies roughly by both arms, gasping out a question.

  "Where... where is she? Where is she?"

  The gypsy looked at him in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned and he pointed to the other side of the dragon. Bolgor took off, causing the man to stagger before he caught his balance enough to glare at the warrior's back. Bolgor rounded Ychthorn's bulk, slipping in the puddles of blood that were congealing around the dragon and stumbling over bodies that had yet to be moved. Chelandra had been removed from the saddle and lay perfectly still on the ground a few feet from Ychthorn. Bolgor's breath caught in his throat as he saw her lying there unmoving, being tended to by a Gypsy healer. The right side of her face showed the beginning signs of a bruise and her face and bare skin were covered in cuts. A large gash on her forehead was being cleaned by the Gypsy.

  Bolgor moved slowly to Lana's side, wanting to ask the Gypsy how she was but not trusting his voice. He blinked back tears as he knelt down, taking the girl's hand in his. It was still warm. Relief flooded through him, tears bursting from his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. The Gypsy woman placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "She should be OK. She hit her head when Ychthorn fell, but she'll come to."

  He nodded, not looking at the woman, his tears falling freely onto the face of his beloved. They splashed across Lana's cheeks, nose, and eyes. Her eyelids flickered briefly before she slowly opened her swollen eyes. She looked at him blearily, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus. He gripped her hand tighter and a smile spread across his lips. The corners of her mouth twitched and broke into a grin. Bolgor leaned over and kissed her gently before sitting back on his heels. Placing a hand on her face, he leaned forward, resting his head on hers.

  "I thought I lost you. I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces. It's like every part of my being is connected to you in some way and I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."

  She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

  "I love—" His eyes grew wide and he stared at her. She narrowed her eyes, ready to berate him for faltering when a drop of red liquid fell from his lips to land on hers. He tried to speak but more blood bubbled out of his mouth. She watched in horror as his hand slipped from her face and he fell to the side, not moving. The Gypsy woman held a soldier in her arms, her knife slicing across his throat, but it was too late. The soldier's sword lay with Bolgor, buried deep in his back. Lana gasped for breath, coming up to her knees. She bent over Bolgor, begging and pleading with him to breathe. His eyes stared at her, unseeing, as his mouth hung open, blood pooling beneath his head. She sobbed until she could sob no longer before collapsing to the ground next to him, her world going black once more.

  Chapter 40

  Ychthorn sat at the head of the oval table on a large gold cushion, his feet tucked beneath him and his wings folded comfortably behind him. His tail lashed gently back and forth as he watched the crowds forming in the seats below. The table was set upon a large dais at the front of the great hall in the palace. He felt uncomfortable in the large castle and often eschewed his comfortable living quarters in the west tower for the black wagon he had spent so much of his life in. The wagon was parked beneath some well-groomed trees in the private courtyard.

  He wasn't the only one who preferred the simpler life of the days before the battle. To his right sat Chelandra, his best friend and protector. Her face was drawn and gaunt; her eyes held a deep sadness that would not fade with time. Though her physical wounds had mostly healed, her heart was damaged beyond repair. The death of her love lay heavy on the young woman's soul and the torment displayed itself in her features. Her long hair had lost its luster while her already slim frame grew thinner. Despite the best efforts of her caring servants, she still looked bedraggled in her elegant robes.

  Sighing, Ychthorn looked to his left, where another woman lounged on the padded stool in her bright, flowing skirts and jangling jewelry. Her olive-skinned chin rested in her bangled hand and her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, pulled back from her face with a colorful kerchief. She gazed over the crowds with a wisdom Thorn had come to cherish in one so young for her race, appraising all those who had come to witness this crucial event in Layr's history.

  On Bellithana's right sat Prigol, the Hidden companion who had accompanied them through the worst parts of their journey and remained steadfastly loyal. Most of the occupants of the great hall would look at that seat and think it empty. Ychthorn was special. He could communicate with all the members sitting around the table. But the Hidden no longer needed to rely on those with the special vision. Prigol held in his hand the CITS device he had perfected during their long journey. Throughout the hall, Ychthorn noticed other Hidden holding these devices and carrying on conversations with humans who, before Prigol's invention, did not even know of the Hidden's existence.

  Ychthorn smiled. So much had changed in the world since his birth. A benevolent king was nearly killed by his sister; his sister, the self-proclaimed queen, was held in a figurative fortress by the Gypsies, who were no longer outlawed. The Hidden were making leaps and bounds in communicating with the physical world and Prigol was working with some of his colleagues on a contraption that would allow them to be seen as well as heard.

  The crowd in the great hall continued to grow, the many seats that had been brought in filling rapidly. Some of the more important guests, those who would be called on to participate in the meeting, were gathered directly below the dais. The former king, Alured, stood in front of his seat, speaking jovially with a man who looked very much like Chelandra. Ychthorn caught the eye of the big black beast standing behind the king and nodded to his cousin. Apoph returned the nod and gently nudged the creamy white dragon next to him, who looked up at Thorn and grinned. Leucile had been Thorn's adopted mother when he was first born and had taught him much. He had no doubt that she was successfully breaking Apoph of any bad habits he might have gathered living the pampered life at the palace. Settling back onto his cushion once more, Ychthorn waited for the meeting to start.

  *

  Alured stood in front of the dais, glancing up occasionally at the large oval table situated in the center. The big red beast who was the descendent of Sigurd, King of Dragons, sat at the head of the table. He was surrounded by his best friends, those who had been with him from the beginning and who had been crucial elements in bringing the three-hundred-year reign of Alured's ancestors to its knees. Alured felt a small twinge of guilt at being such a large part of his sister's downfall and the death of his former soldiers, but he knew he had done what was right. He felt the breath of his best friend on his neck and smiled inwardly. Yes, he knew the dragon's deserved their freedom. Apoph, though he had had much leeway as the king's dragon, had not been truly free. Now, he was free to live and love as he pleased, and love he did.

  A nudge from the man Alured had been talking to brought him back to the present. The tall gentleman was the leader of Jaje's hatchery, where the war for peace had been born, and he was also Lana's father. This man—tall and lanky, but strong—had essentially effected Alured's rescue after his sister's jealousy and cruelty had landed him in the dungeon. Valian had gone above and beyond anything Alured expected and with that they became fast friends.

  They stood in the great hall chatting easily, while the crowds milled around them. A Gypsy came up behind Valian and tapped his elbow. Alured watched the man turn to the Gypsy, look back at him wi
th a grin, then excuse himself. Valian's shoulder-length brown hair flowed in the slight breeze as he followed the Gypsy out of the room. Alured frowned slightly before turning to Apoph and Leucile to join their conversation.

  Several minutes passed in pleasant conversation with the dragons, others popping in momentarily to give the former king a hearty hello, when Alured felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find the leader of Jaje standing before him, a huge grin spread across his tanned face. Alured looked at him suspiciously before following the man's gaze to his hands. Valian held in his battered grip a cloudy brown bottle. Behind him stood the Gypsy, holding a case of the same cloudy brown bottles. Alured's eyes grew wide and he allowed a smile to cross his face as he clapped Valian on the shoulder happily.

  "I did not expect this, my friend. You have gone above and beyond anything I could have expected, and then you go and do this."

  Valian shrugged briefly. "A deal is a deal. You helped us bring down the crown—your crown. I could not back out of my end of the bargain."

  "Well, you do have a point." Alured took the bottle and popped the cork, taking a sip. "Mmm, so good. I have not tasted something so delicious in many years. As king, it would not have been wise to be seen drinking Jaje's special Gypsy-cured wine."

  "You got a two-for-one deal. Not only did we relieve you of that horrid crown, but we plan on getting you schnockered on some of the best wine in Layr." Valian laughed and took the bottle from Alured, chugging a big gulp before popping the cork back in. "And I plan on being right there with you!"

  They both laughed and Alured stored the bottles beneath his chair as a man upon the dais asked them all to take their seats. Alured glanced once more at the crowd settling into the great hall before turning toward the front to watch Graol address the people and dragons present.