“Have you, did you….?”
Trag nodded, a slight smile chasing across his face.
“Yes. I spent some time with her. She’s ever so important. Your father can’t sell her. I’ll have to talk to him about it.”
Wiley overheard this exchange but said nothing for the moment while Trag wheeled himself to his chair and clambered up into it. He waited until the boy had been served some boiled oats with milk and honey before asking him exactly what business he wished to discuss. Wiley once again underestimated Trag’s response, thinking he was merely going to receive a plea to save a drakon this lad had some vague tie with but what he soon heard staggered him.
Trag had merely nodded as Wiley asked what his business was, hurriedly spooning the last of his porridge into his mouth and having a quick sip of warm milk before fixing the owner of Balfour’s Keep with his youthful, open gaze and replying.
“Zirca, for that’s her name, is not to be sold. She knows your intent and your need but she is no mindless worker drakon. If you sell her and she is taken away, the whole of Melintana will suffer because of it, possibly Boronia too.”
Wiley sat back, flabbergasted at this response. He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, especially from a precocious crippled boy who was talking to him about the fate of countries and what he should and shouldn’t do with his own drakon.
“That’s all very well and sounds very important but how do I know that it’s the drakon who said that and not just you making it all up?”
Trag rested his spoon while he replied, his hunger somewhat diminished.
“Her broken wing was no accident. It was done on purpose by a really bad drakon so you would find her and kill her or send her away. Zirca has access to gold. Drakons need gold, it’s necessary for their royals to function properly. In return for her freedom, Zirca will bring you more gold than you could ever get for selling her.”
Wiley laughed and others around the table laughed with him. This strange little crippled boy was so earnest in his defence of the drakon in the stables.
“And what’s to say she will ever return if I release her?” Wiley replied. Once again there was laughter around the table. It was too much for Vistala who was unable to contain her anger at the unfairness of the situation.
“Stop it, stop it,” she yelled, banging the table with her little fists for emphasis. “You’re making fun of him. What’s Trag done to deserve it? Nothing. He only arrived yesterday and he’s the only one who can get near the drakon. He can talk to it. Isn’t its wing splinted, doesn’t it have a straw bed now? What if Trag’s speaking the truth? Have you even considered he might be in the right?”
Wiley glanced sideways at his wife, Malena, who put her hand on his arm before he looked around the table at those seated there, weighing his response in the face of the disbelief he saw reflected in their faces.
“How can you prove what you say is true?” Wiley enquired of Trag, speaking into the silence which followed his daughter’s outburst.
Trag sat still, his heart pounding as he pondered the answer to the problem of convincing Wiley Balfour of the right course of action. Finally an idea came to him.
“Do you trust my Grandfather?”
Wiley nodded. “I’ve known Septican since I was a young man and he’s True.”
Trag was relieved and let his breath out, not realising he had been holding it in.
“I have to tell Grandfather what Zirca told me. All of it. If Grandfather believes me, will you take his word that I’m telling the truth?”
Once again Wiley looked over to his wife, who gave him the slightest of nods, before he looked back to Septican.
“You’d better find somewhere comfortable to talk uninterrupted. The lad sounds as though he actually did talk with that beast out there. I could use the extra gold too.”
Vistala clapped her hands with happiness and shyly patted Trag on the shoulder, leaning over to whisper to him.
“Father is a very fair man. He will give it thought and if what you say to Septican convinces him, well, father will be true to his word. Don’t worry Trag, I know you speak the truth.”
Trag was grateful for this small kindness. Life was very strange at the moment. Yesterday morning he and Grandfather were camped by themselves off the side of the road up in the hills and yet here he was now, after spending the night sleeping curled up with a drakon, being served breakfast by servants in the company of a delightful young girl. At that thought, visions of his friend Bethanty rose unbidden. Bethanty, his Champion at school. He wouldn’t forget her. Ever.
After breakfast was finished and his needs dealt with, Trag and his grandfather were led by Vistala to a small, private garden around the rear of the keep, Trag now rolling along easily on his outside cart which his grandfather had unloaded for him. The garden was sunny and warm in the cool of the morning and there were a couple of trees growing there which would provide some welcome shade when the sun rose higher. Vistala reached into a protected spot under the stone bench and removed a cushion which she handed to Septican.
“The stone becomes hard on the rear after a while. I’ll have one of the servants bring refreshments later. You’ll be summoned for lunch if it takes you ‘til then. Now I’ll leave you to your talk.”
Vistala stroked Trag’s head softly and gave him a shy smile before leaving them.
“I think that girl’s taken a shine to you, Trag,” his grandfather observed. Trag blushed to the roots of his hair.
They settled and got comfortable. Septican waiting silently as Trag composed himself and quieted his mind. He knew the boy was trying to order his thoughts to present what he had to say in the most understandable and logical manner he could. Trag took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry Grandfather, I shouldn’t have gone to Zirca without telling you first but I was afraid you’d say no.”
Septicon nodded. “Go on, it’s all right.”
“I can’t explain how I communicate with Zirca. First it was in pictures then last night, after she flicked the tip of her tongue into my mouth, it was more like speech. Sorry, I’ll start from the beginning. After you went to sleep last night, I lay awake, too excited by what had happened to go to sleep myself. I felt the drakon steal into my mind with pictures of me coming down to the stable. It was difficult to be quiet and not wake anyone but I managed, although the door to the keep presented a few difficulties. When I arrived at the barn I had trouble with that door too and it took me a while to enter. Zirca invited me to rest on her front legs and sent me soothing pictures of flying then she flicked a tip of her forked tongue into my mouth. Afterwards I understood her better. There was something in her saliva which helps our communication.”
Trag stopped for a moment to take a sip of water before continuing.
“You were right Grandfather. About drakons being like bees. She told me her name was Zirca and that she is a young queen. She was made especially by her mother, Zaldara, to start another hive. There has been lots of trouble since the male drakon guarding Conurbal was grown from a human Prince. I need to tell you the whole story for it to make sense.”
Trag moved around in his seat to make himself comfortable while his grandfather sat quietly, fully engaged. This wasn’t the make believe prattling of a young boy. The narrative had substance. Trag closed his eyes and continued.
“What you said about a drakon being made from a human is true. Zirca told me the story from where your book ends. About a hundred years ago, on his return to Conurbal, the young wizard who had actually visited Queen Zaldara told a prince, third in line for the throne of Melintana about his adventures. With nothing to lose, the Prince made the journey to the hive and offered himself to the Queen. He was a fine and fair example of humanity and the Queen gratefully accepted his offer and grew a mate from him, who she named Serkahn. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen the selfishness and greed lurking deep inside the Prince. After Serkahn grew to full size and was no longer controllable, he took to doing whatev
er he desired and when the humans came to ask for protection from the Draakon Reavers, he saw his chance. It was a nephew of his on the throne of Melintana by then but Serkahn didn’t let the King know they were related and while the Queen of Drakons, speaking for the hive, demanded a payment of gold, which drakons like, plus the tithes of sheep and cattle for the drakons who would be on patrol, Serkahn made his own deal. Desperate for the protection of the drakons, the King agreed and Serkahn moved to the Palace to live at the top of one of the towers.”
Trag paused in his narrative for a moment, looking up to find his grandfather with a faraway look in his eyes.
“It makes sense young Trag and I envy you your rapport with Zirca. What a gift.”
His grandfather sighed and studied the grass at his feet before raising his eyes back to Trag.
“Is there any more to tell?”
“Oh yes Grandfather. Lots. Serkahn is a Royal drakon and has certain abilities. He took note of how a Queen makes a male offspring from a man and experimented on women, eventually learning how to insert his drakon seed into the abdomens of human women so it would develop into new life. Inside them, these unfortunate women grow strange human-like creatures with drakon skin and vertical slit pupils in their eyes and then die when the creatures break out of their abdomens at their birth. The first drakon Spawn born were crazy and dangerous, as they’re extremely strong and hard to kill. Those ones had to be culled but Serkahn eventually found a friend in Duke Erkhart, the one whose twin sister was captured in the very last Reaver raid around forty years ago. You know, the same Duke who is running Melintana as Regent now. Serkahn moved out to the Duke’s estates for some privacy. After it was discovered that untainted, virginal women could deliver strong healthy drakon Spawn, Serkahn and the Duke were instrumental in the tithe being expanded to include yearly offerings of fifteen year old girls from the larger towns. Apparently there are over a hundred of the Spawn hidden away on the Dukes estates.”
Trag’s grandfather appeared surprised at this announcement.
“I never knew that.”
“You’re not meant to. No one is. They live in caverns dug out under the grounds of the estate. At night they come to the surface in a hidden valley to hunt for game through the Duke’s forests. Only a few of the Duke’s staff know of this and they are sworn to secrecy. On pain of death.”
“How did Zirca know of this?” Trag’s grandfather asked. “If it’s supposed to be such a secret.”
“One of the Spawn escaped from Serkahn. She was found wandering near the caverns of the hive, and taken to Zaldara who questioned her closely. Unfortunately that Spawn later tried to steal one of Zaldara’s eggs and a worker killed her instantly. No one disturbs the eggs.”
They both looked up at the sound of footsteps but it was merely a servant with refreshments, a plate of flat baked biscuits and a pot of herbal tea. After the servant left, both Trag and his grandfather sat in companionable silence for a while and nibbled on the biscuits. Eventually Trag looked up to his grandfather.
“I haven’t got to the important part yet Grandfather. Serkahn is making Spawn so he can fight Zaldara. He wants to rule over all the drakons. Then he would use the hive to take whatever he wanted. Gold would be high on the list, drakons love the feel of gold and it keeps them healthy. Zaldara is frightened. Once she learned of the Spawn and Serkahn’s desire to rule the hive, she secretly made Zirca to start another colony hive. It was quietly done by laying a special egg into an orphaned young woman who gave her permission for it. Zirca has memories of what she once was but lacks a mate to start a new colony.”
There was a pause and Septican looked up to find Trag’s steady gaze on him.
“She wants me to be her mate.”
Septican’s heart sank. Actually it plummeted, as the inference of Trag’s statement hit home. For nearly the first time in his life, Septican was at a loss for words as his mind ranged over the implications.
“Why?” He knew it was a stupid question as he asked it but the word just tumbled out of his mouth.
“I don’t know why but we have a special bond. She feels something in me and I’m enthralled by her. Look at me Septican. I’ve been given a chance to quit this wretched body and fly as mate to a Queen of drakons. Not something I would ever have dreamt of in Bardton but it’s real. However, I told her I would ask you first before I agreed.”
“Think of your magic studies Trag.” Septican urged.
“What. Don’t you think you could teach a young drakon old tricks Grandfather? If I go through with this, my present body will be left barely alive for two months or more as the young drakon grows within. Once emerged, it will take up to two years to grow to any decent size. Apparently, the more I eat, the faster I’ll grow. You could teach me if you will Grandfather. Maybe I could take the spells straight from your mind.”
Trag propelled his cart the short distance to a nearby tree and leaned back against the smooth bark, his head supported against the trunk. He continued in a quieter voice, somewhat tired now.
“The drakons we saw on the way here were out looking for Zirca. They were a couple detailed for the task by Serkahn. Apparently, it was Serkahn who spotted her, even this far north, while she was looking for a possible hive site in the mountains. It was he who broke her wing and left her where she would be found by Wiley. Even Serkahn could not bring himself to commit regicide by killing Zirca. Besides, Zaldara would never mate with him again if he did and he would never control the hive while she lived if she ever found out. In fact, she might even set the hive on him and make another male for herself.”
Septican sighed. It had been a long tale and there was no doubt that Trag was telling the truth. It was too fantastical to have been made up and all the facts fit together. How could he deny Trag the chance to escape the prison of his withered little body and fly? To stop the lad from going through with it would be an extreme act of selfishness on his behalf and he had more love for Trag than that.
“What about the gold Trag? Wiley still has to be paid, otherwise he will be unable to feed and clothe everyone for another year or two.”
Trag stirred and wearily opened his eyes, nearly asleep.
“Zirca is healing rapidly. Drakons do. All it took was for the bone ends in her wing to be aligned and a little salve, which she thanks you for, plus adequate nutrition, which she is receiving now. Once she can fly again, Zirca will go and bring back gold for Wiley. She’s sure Zaldara will give her some of her trove. Afterwards, Zirca will stay very close to the barn while I’m nurturing her egg, as I’m defenceless then and extremely important to her. Don’t worry Grandfather, Wiley will be rewarded beyond his wildest imaginings and have the honour of hosting a Queen drakon and a juvenile male for a while. In my case, two years.”
Trag’s voice drifted off as he fell asleep in the warmth of the little garden. Septican sat quietly observing his grandson. The lad had only been inside these walls for half an afternoon, a night and the following morning and was well on the way to becoming something of legend. Fate worked in mysterious ways alright but who better to choose for a mate? Zirca must have seen the same as he saw now, the lad was cheerful in spite of his travails with a strength of character unusual in one so young. Maybe she saw his budding magic or the intelligence behind those dark eyes, maybe even something he could not appreciate. Whatever it was, she had chosen well. There could yet be a use for the books of magic hidden away in the base of his wagon. Two years. Hmm.
Septicon sat relaxing, listening to the hum of the bees out to harvest the very last pollen of the year. He’d made up his mind to trust Zirca to bring back gold for Wiley. Everything hinged around that, including her plan to make Trag her mate. Septicon shook his shaggy head. It was almost beyond belief that these events could have occurred to them but if not to them then who? He watched Trag sleeping. Poor little mite. He was carrying a lot of responsibility in that twisted and buckled body. How hard had it been for him to creep out silently by himself in the middle
of the night? How long had he actually slept? It wasn’t long before Septican dozed too.
A discrete cough from the servant woke Septican while Trag still slept on. Once Septican was awake the servant indicated he’d been sent to announce lunch.
“Would you like me to push the boy’s cart Sir?” The servant asked politely.
Septican shook his head. “No thank you, it would hurt his feelings but thank you all the same for your kind offer. Tell Wiley we’ll be along shortly.”
The servant left and Septican squatted down, not wanting to tower over Trag and gently shook the boy. There was a slight groan as first one eye popped open, then the other.
“Trag, I’ve decided that it’s your choice as to what you do with your life and whatever you choose, you have my full support.”
The joy evident on Trag’s small face was a reward Septican had not expected but he basked in it, soaking up the boy’s adoration.
“Thank you so much Grandfather. You know whatever I become I will always love you. No matter what.”
Together they made their way back to the hall of the keep, Septicon walking slowly while Trag propelled himself over the ground. Because he was tired he allowed Septicon to lift him up over the front step and place him on his inside cart. It wasn’t weakness, it was conservation of energy.
Everyone was already eating by the time they arrived at their places and Vistala was beside herself with curiosity as Trag pulled himself into his chair.
“Well.”
“It worked out,” was all Trag would say.
They were served their fare, cold meats, bread, cheese and ale for the grown ups. Trag refused the watered down version offered to younger members of the family and settled on herbal tea instead. Wiley gave them some time to eat then looked over at Septican.
Were of the Drakon Page 7