Trag raised his head and flicked her face with the tips of his forked tongue. She tasted of innocence and sincerity. Vistala licked her lips and tasted drakon on them.
“Oh yes, I have news. My eldest brother Vigano and sister Bromala will be travelling north by ship when the heat of summer is over to visit with our Uncle Devlin, Wiley’s younger brother. He sent a letter and suggested they come to visit him as they are of marrying age and there are plenty of unattached men and women of society where he lives. Apparently it’s a small city called Wenstrom quite a few days sailing north of here and a day’s travel inland. Father thinks it a good idea for them to go and it was he suggested the end of summer. Frankly, they’ve both been whining about being bored and having nothing to do, so it will be a relief for us all when they go.”
She fell in beside Trag as they walked back toward the barn.
“How long before you can take me flying Trag?”
Trag looked at Vistala, hearing the yearning in her voice, it meant so much to the girl to fly. She had been the greatest of help in his transformation and deserved some reward. He turned to Zirca, using drakonspeak.
“Zirca my love. You may have overheard. This human girl who you well know and who has helped us unflinchingly, desires to fly. Would you mind taking her please? I can find my own way back to the barn where Septicon is no doubt waiting to give me another lesson in magic.”
Zirca ceased walking and Trag lowered his head, bunting Vistala toward her. The girl didn’t quite understand as Trag gently pushed her to stand before the golden drakon. He then sat back on his haunches and pointed one digit at the sky. Vistala immediately caught on and hugged his neck before letting go to then stand before Zirca. The golden queen reached out and securely grasped Vistala with her front feet before leaping into the sky. A small scream was torn from Vistala before she settled into the joys of being airborne.
Trag walked back to the barn. He was well over half grown now, the regular feeding had helped, as well as a little drakon magic from Zirca when she made him. He felt strong and proud of his ability to fly. In fact he no longer felt like a Trag. Trag was a diminutive. A short name for a crippled boy on a cart. He wasn’t a Trag any more. Oh, he knew he always would be to Septican and Vistala but he wanted to be something more. From now on he would think of himself as Traginal.
He raised his scaly black head and trumpeted to the sky.
8. Treachery
Prince Lermond sat at his neat and tidy desk. His room, on the second floor of one of the palace towers, overlooked the palace courtyard. It was a view he very much enjoyed, as he could see the comings and goings of all who arrived for an audience with Duke Erkhart and began to recognise some patterns in the attendance.
For the past year and a half the Prince had applied himself to his lessons, paying particular attention to law and strategy. It was becoming clear to him as he quietly observed the Duke that the man was only using him as an excuse to rule. The Prince watched quietly, saying nothing, as the Duke made many of the day to day decisions in court without consulting his Royal charge.
The more Prince Lermond read about the disease which had claimed his parents, the more suspicious he became. None other had suffered from this disease, not the people who cared for and came in contact with his parents nor the physics and Healers who treated them. The mystery illness had only struck down the two royals. It was exceedingly suspicious and the man who stood to gain the most was his father’s so called friend, Duke Erkhart, who had been named Regent. Well, as he straightened from the King’s deathbed Erkhart claimed that’s what Lermond’s father had pronounced with his dying breath.
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
Kristen came into the room bearing a tray. Over the last year and a half, besides developing into an attractive young woman, she had been a great help to the Prince, ferrying information back and forth outside the castle walls. Thanks to her, Lermond now had a good idea what his subjects thought and what was close to their hearts. It definitely wasn’t the Duke.
The serving girl placed the tray she carried on the Prince’s desk and stepped back, waiting. Over the past year and a half, a sort of rapport had grown between them. Lermond looked up and their eyes locked. What passed went both ways. Kristen shyly glanced down.
“What have you to report today Kristen?” Prince Lermond asked softly, trying to maintain some regal calm over his demeanour.
“Well my Prince, the total number of young ladies who were tithed this year increased slightly over last year’s number and they were still taking some at fourteen summers. I heard a rumour they were taken to the Duke’s estate in covered wagons, under the cover of darkness, never to be seen again. His people are deathly afraid to talk. I fear the Duke.”
Kristen glanced around, concerned they were being eavesdropped on as her Prince replied.
“As am I. He seems, by the way he pays little attention to me and makes most of the day to day decisions, to be getting ready to rule Melintana by himself. That means I will suffer some horrible disease or have a fatal accident.”
“Do you think he would stoop so low, my Prince?” Kristen asked him.
“I do. If I could, I would run away but where would I go? I’m too well known to just jump on a horse and ride off. If I did, the Duke could alert the drakons on patrol to keep an eye out for me.” Lermond shook his head in despair. “My eighteenth birthday approaches. I feel I’m not long for this world.”
Kristen was stricken. In all her dealings with Prince Lermond he’d always appeared so positive. She’d watched him grow and develop from a scared and lonely prince into a young man with stature and authority who would shortly become King. But would he? Maybe Lermond was right, he might be assassinated and then where would Melintana be?
“You need to be strong my Prince. Your people are looking forward to your coronation and the retirement of Duke Erkhart from the Regency.”
Prince Lermond looked up at the expression on her pretty, concerned face.
“That’s just it. He won’t want to relinquish his power. I’m in danger from now on. If anything happens to me, I can’t stay here in the castle. It will mean my certain death.”
A shudder of premonition coursed through Kristen’s body as she heard this and she resolved to give her life if need be in aid of her prince.
“I’ll keep my ears open Sire and look out for you.”
Lermond’s expression softened as he saw the concern writ on her face. Kristen was his best and possibly only friend in the castle. He could trust her.
In the dimly lit subterranean cavern, the Duke stood in front of the mighty drakon Serkahn, a small glass vial held in his hand. He’d had to suggest the big, black drakon visit the caverns beneath his estate house before flying out to the caves in the far wilds of his estate lands where Serkahn had moved with the Spawn a year ago. It saved him a ride of at least three days through rough, untamed country just to get there, never mind back. He had a headache. Thoughts of his long lost sister had been straying into his head all day, he felt the connection to her still and wondered for the umpteenth time if that link went both ways. Did she miss him like he missed her? He banished the thoughts. Right now he had a task to carry out.
“It’s time Serkahn; the Prince is approaching his eighteenth birthday. I need a subtle poison from you, one which will be fatal but takes quite a long time to work. It needs to be different to that which we used on his parents, as similar poisonings would be suspicious and draw undue attention. It would be preferable if he could weaken and linger on for quite a while. I could gradually take over all the reins of power while he ails, then when he dies I’ll have nothing more to do to be crowned King.”
The huge black drakon gazed idly around the cavern. He’d need to compose his mind and think of exactly the symptoms the Duke had described to him. Serkahn dwelt at length on the minutia of the disease process and as he thought, he commissioned his venom glands to begin production of the nec
essary toxin to produce just those results. The seconds turned to minutes as the Duke waited. He’d seen this process before when the poison used to kill the previous King and Queen, Prince Lermond’s parents, was manufactured by Serkahn. Finally, the drakon swung its great head around to face him and the Duke felt the familiar tingle as the drakon’s words formed in his head.
“Place your bottle at the base of my longest fang and make sure you don’t get splashed by what runs out of the other one.”
Serkahn opened his mouth and Duke Erkhart gazed on death as a row of formidable teeth were revealed. He pulled the stopper from the vial and held it under the longest tooth on the same side he was standing. Serkahn seemed to concentrate for a moment before a steady trickle of thick, yellowish fluid ran off the end of the tooth. Simultaneously another trickle ran from the largest upper tooth on the other side of the jaw. The Duke watched with satisfaction as his little bottle filled up before he withdrew it and put the stopper in.
“How much will I need to use?” he asked the drakon.
The answer came back directly into his mind.
“For a slow effect, no more than ten drops. If you want a fast result, use more.”
The black drakon watched as the Duke placed the little glass bottle into an inner pocket of his jacket then turned and left. Ah, the machinations of Court. The huge drakon, who was once a prince himself, third in line for the throne, smiled wickedly as he looked at the few Spawn standing guard around the cavern. He’d taken to posting them where he could converse with them mind to mind. They were his army and only answerable to him. Nearly invincible to normal soldiers, the Spawn would conquer wherever he sent them. It didn’t matter that there was only a hundred or so fully grown and trained available, they were virtually indestructible and would fight to the death. Their loyalty was solely to him. Their father.
The Duke hurried from the cavern. It really was time for him to take the final solution and poison Prince Lermond. The young man was becoming more difficult to manage by the week and had started voicing his own opinions which didn’t always agree with the Duke’s. Tomorrow would be the best time, when they stopped for lunch. He could pour the ten drops of venom into the Prince’s wine then.
The next morning passed slowly for the Duke. He was pleasant to the Prince and at times they conversed like normal people but he couldn’t wait for lunch to arrive. They moved from the State room they were conducting business in to a side room prepared for dining. In it were a table and a few chairs where they could relax and eat out of sight of the court retainers. Two serving girls came with trays and set down a lunch for them to partake of. Cold meats, bread, pickles and wine. One of the girls took two goblets from the sideboard and deferentially set them in front of the Duke and the Prince before pouring wine. She placed the decanter on the table and the two serving girls left.
During the meal, the Duke dropped his knife and the Prince bent down to pick it up for him. As he did, the Duke swiftly uncapped the vial containing the poison and poured about ten drops into the Prince’s wine but he hadn’t seen the door open. Kristen had come back to ask if there was anything further they required. She saw what the Duke did and quickly pulled the door too before he saw her. It would be very dangerous for her if he knew he’d been seen pouring something into Prince Lermond’s goblet. She knocked and walked into the room as if she’d just returned. The Duke was visibly annoyed.
“What do you want girl.” he snarled.
Prince Lermond looked surprised at his tone.
“Duke, she is merely a serving girl carrying out her duties. No need to be annoyed with her.”
The Duke looked on while Lermond beckoned her over to take away his plate. As she reached for it, her forearm brushed against the Prince’s goblet and it toppled over, spilling its contents over the table top. The Duke leapt to his feet enraged as the girl pulled out a cloth from a pocket in her apron and tried to wipe up the spilt wine.
“Get out. Get out you stupid bitch and don’t ever let me see your face in here again. You aren’t fit to wait on tables. Get down to the kitchens and stay there. Now!”
In the face of this tirade, Kristen was unable to warn Prince Lermond what she had seen before she immediately had to leave. The Prince was visibly shaken by the ferocity of the Duke’s outburst, especially as it was delivered against Kristen and he couldn’t defend her without arousing suspicion. What had she done, spilling his wine? The Duke picked up the Prince’s goblet and the decanter and took them to the sideboard to pour another drink for the Prince. While his back was turned, he once more doctored the wine with poison before returning to the table and placing the goblet in front of his Prince. The young man, still shaken by the events he had just observed, reached out and took the wine, draining the goblet in a few gulps.
The Duke smiled to himself. It was merely a matter of time now.
The following afternoon, Kristen brought the Prince his refreshments and to the Prince’s horror related what she had seen the previous lunchtime. It was something they couldn’t prove and if they tried it was more than likely the Duke would have Kristen killed and merely observe as the Prince died alone, friendless.
“I feel fine though,” Lermond told Kristen. “Nothing wrong with me at all. It should have worked by now.”
She wasn’t reassured, the Duke was an evil and devious man.
At breakfast the following morning, the Prince vomited up his oats and felt a little light headed. Probably from the vomiting he thought. By lunch he felt decidedly unwell and definitely disinclined to eat. The Healers were called but none of them could find anything wrong with the Prince.
Day by day Prince Lermond weakened and eventually had to take to his bed. He ordered Kristen be allowed to bring him his afternoon refreshment and each afternoon he discussed the problem with Kristen.
“I have to get out of here Kristen. If I’m in the palace, the Duke will just wait until I die. If I can get away, there may be a chance of a cure, however slim. You have to help me escape.”
Kristen thought long and hard.
“We can’t go by road. A patrol could find us easily and the patrolling drakons would be looking out for us too. We have to get away by boat. My brother’s a fisherman. If we can get you to his boat under cover of darkness, he could put to sea and be well up the coast by daybreak. Who’s going to check a fishing boat?”
The prince lay back on his bed, weak after sitting up for just that short period.
“It’ll have to be soon, I don’t have much strength left and I’m getting weaker by the day. Look in the top drawer of the dresser. See those keys? They open just about every lock in the castle. Take them but don’t get caught with them.”
He lay back, consciousness slipping away as Kristen left, tears in her eyes at the sight of her Prince dying.
That night she was back before midnight, silently stealing into his room dressed in a dark cloak, another folded over her arm. She roused the Prince and dragged him to his feet. He was weaker than he had been earlier but she made him stand and draped the cloak over him before pulling up the hood to hide his blond hair. Slowly, corridor by corridor and stair by stair, she guided her Prince out of the tower he’d lived in nearly all his life. Twice she had to help him as he stumbled and a number of times she paused them to wait for guards to pass.
Keeping to the shadows and exhibiting great patience, Kristen managed to exhort Lermond to greater effort, placing one foot in front of another until they eventually arrived at a side gate. One of the keys she had taken from his dresser earlier opened it and it was with great relief that Lermond saw a small donkey tied up on its other side, its feet bandaged in rags to muffle the sound of its passing. Kristen, almost lifting Lermond, managed to get him onto the donkey’s back and told him to hold firm to its mane as she quickly moved off, leading the little beast. Half an hour later, having released the donkey to wander where it would, two shadowy figures moved slowly onto Conurbal’s town wharf heading toward a small fishing boat. Ano
ther shadowy figure on the boat reached up to assist one of the two onto the deck and then into the shelter of the only cabin, as the other untied the mooring ropes and pushed off. There was only a gentle breeze blowing from the south but it was enough to take the slack out of the sail and get the boat slowly moving ahead. When the sun rose the next morning they were well up the coast, making good time in the stiffening breeze.
Prince Lermond’s chamber maid bustled into the Prince’s room the following morning making her usual morning noises. Kristen had closed the hanging curtains on the royal bed and the chamber maid, supposing the Prince to be taking extra rest because of his illness, didn’t bother to look behind them. It was only when breakfast was delivered and a maid came to wash the Prince before his futile attempt at eating that she discovered the bed was empty and cold. At first they checked the privy and his bathroom but it soon became clear the Prince was actually missing. The Duke was informed when he arrived at the castle and he was livid. His face turned a mottled purple as he roared at servants and soldiers alike, demanding an explanation as to how a Prince of the realm could just vanish and why nobody had thought to search for him yet.
The palace was turned upside down as staff and soldiers alike checked every room and available space they could find but to no avail, Prince Lermond was definitely missing. At first Duke Erkhart was worried but as the morning wore on he saw the upside of the disappearance. The Prince had been at the castle when he went home last night and missing when he returned in the morning. The Duke realised he was in the clear as far as the disappearance went and if the Prince never returned, well, no problem and with the poison in his system it was unlikely he would live much longer anyhow. In fact, this little mystery was just a fortunate accident for him.
Were of the Drakon Page 10