Were of the Drakon

by B Cameron Lee

  “All the information we have points to that being so. Your arrival here on a flying carpet must have been seen and reported back to Duke Erkhart. They probably thought you too young to be a Mage and took Yletta, thinking she was.”

  Cringle went silent for a moment. Suddenly he spoke again but the voice that issued from him was not quite his own.

  “Cringle has waited all his life to meet his mother. Whoever took her will pay dearly.”

  All at the table looked up immediately and none would forget the ancient eyes which looked out piercingly from Cringle’s young face. He blinked and the eyes were his again. He looked around the table.

  “What? I was just thinking about Yletta and where she might be kept.”

  No one had the heart to tell him of what had just occurred as Cringle asked the King the question which was in all their minds.

  “Do you think the Duke will kill Yletta if Boronia invades Melintana?”

  “I don’t know Cringle. All I know is that if Serkahn gains control of the drakon hive, Duke Erkhart may invade Boronia using drakons to fight us with. We have to pre-empt that if we can. As King, I have to make a decision about the best outcome for Boronia. It’s one of the oldest dilemmas. Is one person’s life worth as much as hundreds if not thousands of others?”

  Cringle knew what the King was saying. Yletta would have to take her chances. It soured him but there was no escaping the reasoning. He looked around the table and saw the sympathy on the faces surrounding him.

  “Thank you everyone. It will be as it will be. We have a country to protect and a war to win. I know Yletta will be alright, she’s a survivor.”

  The King stood and everyone else rose to their feet. Georgio looked to his Commander-in-Chief and his Admiral.

  “We are going to break for lunch until mid afternoon. You two get a plan together and present it when we reconvene.

  So it was. That afternoon the two gentlemen revealed their plan. First off was Septican and Vistala flying south in the morning to discover if Zaldara still ruled the hive and if she did, to ask for permission to invade Melintana. If Serkahn ruled the hive they were to hurry back and report, as the army would be on the move by that time. Next was the army, which was to start marching in five days time, cavalry to the fore. All but a thousand of them would set out then. The remainder would be transported by ship. Those going by sea would leave a week later. All dates were to be coordinated so that the two separate parts of the army arrived at Conurbal at the same time.

  It seemed a feasible plan and they were just about to call it a day when Prince Lermond asked.

  “What about me, and Kristen?”

  The King looked surprised at the question.

  “Why you and your young lady will be riding in my coach with me. We’ll be in the midst of the cavalry. It’s a bit dusty in that position but fairly safe I’ll warrant. You are the legitimate ruler of Melintana now that you’ve passed your eighteenth birthday. You legitimise our invasion. In fact you’re probably the most important piece of the whole puzzle.”

  The Prince was quite pleased with the King’s reply, it made him feel important to the campaign ahead. He made his bows as he left the room, Kristen opening the door for him. The King watched him go. It would be excellent to have that lad as his neighbour. Septican and Vistala also bowed their way out of the room. They had packs to prepare for their journey on the morrow.

  “And me?” Cringle asked.

  The Kings eyes twinkled.

  “You will be our eye in the sky. That flying carpet of yours will be most useful when it comes to spying ahead of the army. I’m sure, when we get closer to Conurbal, you’re capable of whipping over to the coast now and again to see how the Admiral and his fleet are getting along. Does that suit you?”

  “Yes Sire. It suits me just fine.”

  They all left the room then for their separate destinations.

  That evening, in the large airy barn with thick straw covering the floor, Septican and Vistala had a discussion with Traginal and Zirca. The two drakons determined that they would have to fly quite a distance west before they turned south toward Melintana. If they didn’t make such a wide detour they could be spotted and if Serkahn happened to be in charge of the hive, it wouldn’t be long before they were harried and forced to land somewhere. With luck it might be a quick death for Traginal but Serkahn would probably take Zirca as his second mate. That would be abysmal for her and she would most surely pine and die. Next morning, as the city of Harrington was just waking up, two drakons took to the sky and headed west.

  It was cold up there but exhilarating. Both Septican and Vistala were well wrapped up as they were old hands at drakon riding now. It felt funny to Septican that his grandson was winging his way along beside him carrying Vistala on his back. He thought back to the little crippled lad on the wheeled cart and for a moment his eyes misted up. Being a drakon was definitely an improvement, even if it was a markedly strange phenomenon. The wing beats were regular, gaining height then locking out to glide until they needed height again. This was the most economical way for drakons to fly. They set down for lunch in wild country and the two drakons rested while their companions ate. Soon they were off again. Sometime mid afternoon, Zirca veered to the south using her inbuilt directional ability. They were seriously on their way now. It would take another four to five days of flying to reach Zaldara’s hive. Well, they hoped it was still Zaldara’s.

  King Georgio was reviewing the troops. They’d given the drakons a couple of day’s head start but now it was time for Boronia’s forces to march.

  The army had assembled in a large field on the edge of Harrington. In summer it was used for fairs and games but in winter it was given over to free grazing and left to horses and cows which kept the grass down. They’d had to be moved to other pasture to clear the field for this occasion. The cavalry was ranked up to one side of the regular army, the horses standing, stamping their feet and fidgeting at the inaction. The army reserves had also been called up on short notice, resulting in a large body of men on the field. In all there were close to six thousand soldiers and four hundred cavalry.

  Earl Bentson, the Commander-in-Chief, saluted the King.

  “They’re ready for you to look over Sire.”

  “Very good Commander. Have they been getting much training?”

  “A good freshen up every day Sire while we’ve been rounding up stragglers and formulating plans. Most are proficient enough with their weapons.”

  “Excellent Commander, lead on.”

  Bentson swung his horse around and walked it to the front row of the assembled men with the King’s mount following close behind. They passed along it and turned into the second row. In this manner they gradually worked their way through the entire army. Bentson picked out a few individual for being too scruffy and a sergeant made note of their names. Next it was onto the cavalry and Georgio was more in his element with the mounted component of his army. He knew some of them. Had even trained with them when he was but a young Prince.

  Finished with inspections, Bentson and the King rode to the front of the army where the King waited for the men to settle. When there was quiet, he spoke to them in his best parade ground voice.

  “Men of Boronia. We’ve had to keep the reason for your call up secret up until now. There were spies among us. I don’t know if we’ve found them all but if you suspect someone, don’t stay quiet, tell your sergeant. Tomorrow, all but a thousand of you will set off. We are marching south to Melintana to put Prince Lermond on his throne. He is the rightful king of Melintana and our cause is just. The remaining thousand men will ship out with the navy in one week’s time. You will be dropped ashore north of Conurbal as the second arm of the attack. That’s all. BORONIA!”

  A resounding cheer went up as the army answered the call, chanting Boronia, Boronia, Boronia as the King rode off to his carriage. From tomorrow he would be spending a lot of time in it. Thank goodness for that new fangled spring suspension.


  The next morning the army set off. Everyone was cheerful and jocular at the outset and it was amazing to look back from the coach window as the road took a long bend around a valley. From that vantage point the King and Prince Lermond, along with Kristen, could see the line of marching soldiers stretching back unbroken for what seemed like miles, sun glinting off polished buttons and pieces of steel. By the end of the day, some of the cheer had been walked off the soldiers and after setting up camp and consuming their evening meal they turned in early, apart from those detailed for guard duty. Even on the first day of the march it was important to establish routines. The soldiers slept under canvas, carried on the provisioning wagons which followed them. They were glad to have the tents as the night was bordering on cold. It was winter after all.

  Kristen found it all very exciting. Most of her life had been spent in the service of others and until she’d become Prince Lermond’s confidant she’d been beneath notice. Over the last few years, first in the palace in Conurbal and more lately at Balfour’s Keep, the prince had come to appreciate and rely on her judgement. Her status had slowly changed until now, here she was riding in the King’s coach with a King and a Prince and no one thought it odd at all. The clothes she wore were expensive and well made. The Prince had decided she should be treated and dressed in a manner befitting a Prince’s companion. In truth, he owed his life to her and with that had gone his heart.

  The well-sprung coach rumbled along the highway, a broad rutted road which was the main route south. When they’d left Harrington, the countryside had initially been rural farmland, cropping fields in rotation with fallow grazing land. There were cattle aplenty to begin with and now, as the land rose, sheep and goats were more common, running away from the stone walls bounding the fields as first the clatter of the cavalry and then the tromp of the soldiers’ boots sounded. The army wasn’t silent, at this stage there was no expectation of attack and the men conversed freely. Some sang songs in time to the marching and the atmosphere was almost holiday-like until a sergeant down the line bawled something out and voices fell silent.

  Kristen was learning and when they stopped for breaks or lunch, she allowed herself to be handed down from the coach. She could have easily jumped down herself but she had decided that it was time she used the manners and decorum she’d observed in the wives of the gentry at court. She was going to be a lady. She observed the Prince sitting by himself, King Georgio off seeing to the business of the army. He looked concerned.

  “What is it my prince that concerns you so?” She asked him.

  The Prince turned, surprised, not expecting to be addressed. He thought for a moment.

  “It’s possible that many of these men are going to die to put me on the throne of Melintana. If I become King there, I’ll have that on my conscience forever.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder, a familiarity she knew the Prince enjoyed, had ever since he’d first woken from being poisoned and nearly dying.

  “Think of all the evil taking place in Melintana and the number of innocent people who are dying every day. Septican and Traginal had to flee Melintana for their very lives. The country needs a real king and you are that man.”

  “Still, it does not change the fact that men are going to die.”

  “Prince, Duke Erkhart threatens Boronia. That is one of the main reasons these men are here, to protect their own. Putting you on the throne ensures the peace which makes this a just affair.”

  Prince Lermond took her hand from his shoulder and kissed it shyly.

  “You’re so wise Kristen. I feel better already. You have that effect on me. I shall keep you near me always.”

  Kristen’s eyes widened slightly and her heart stumbled. This was the first time Prince Lermond had intimated at a future for them. She fought back tears, squeezed his hand and went back to the coach on pretence of getting a cushion to sit on. She didn’t want him to see her emotional turmoil.

  That evening there was an inn to stay at, honoured by hosting the King of Boronia. The strange young Mage Cringle descended to land his peculiar flying carpet at the inn and rolled it up to take to the room that was set aside for him. He appeared saddened, not surprising in view of the fact his mother, Yletta, had been abducted and none knew of her whereabouts. He seemed chilled too. It must be cold up there in the heavens; it was cold enough down here. At their evening meal the King tried to jolly him up but Cringle claimed tiredness and went immediately to his room. As usual, Prince Lermond had a single bed brought into his room for Kristen. She had habitually slept in the same room as him since Balfour’s Keep. Kristen supposed everyone assumed they were sleeping together but she and the Prince knew it wasn’t so and that made it right between them.

  The country Septican, Vistala and the drakons flew over was heavily wooded and hilly. This was their fourth day of flying south and Zirca had informed them that another day would see them arrive at the hive of Zaldara, her mother. It was approaching midday, a time they normally landed to thaw out while they had something to eat and tended to their needs, when Zirca’s massive head turned to the east, in the direction of where Conurbal might lie. A moment later Traginal’s head followed suite.

  “I sense drakon kind, but there is a strange tinge to it. Zirca feels the same,” he informed them both. “It’s merely a taste of drakon, not strong enough to be troublesome but there should be no drakon kind here. Zirca wants to investigate.”

  There was a mental shrug from Septican. Who was he to tell a drakon Queen no.

  Both drakons turned toward the east and descended slowly, their massive heads swinging back and forth, seeking the source of the feeling like massive hunting dogs. It was Vistala who spotted the clear area in front of a cavern under an overhanging cliff, well concealed against discovery. The two drakons dropped lower and seeing and hearing nothing to alarm them, landed in front of the cavern.

  “The feeling is stronger here but it is most strange,” Traginal sent them. He and Zirca communicated with one another rapidly and Traginal spoke into Vistala’s mind again.

  “Vistala, you need to get down and go and stand beside Zirca. I have to go into the cavern and discover what’s in there. We can’t endanger the Queen, nor you, my own little queen. I’ll be back as soon as possible. You’ll hear me at all times in your mind so there’s no need to worry. I am drakon.”

  Traginal was reminding himself of that fact as he cautiously padded into the cave. As he went deeper and it grew darker, he saw there was the occasional torch stuck into cracks in the walls. He felt weak drakon presence in his mind, a number of them but there was something more. It was strange and wrong, and familiar? He felt one mind far more than any of the others. There was some connection to it. Traginal concentrated on that one consciousness and memory came to him. A bright and cheerful crippled boy in school who needed a cart to get around. The transfer was going both ways. A school room, people making fun of him and someone who always took his side and shielded him from the worst of it.

  Bethanty!

  There was a muffled cry from before him and a strange creature stepped into the light, recoiling at the sight of a black drakon in front of her. The figure was green scaled, with an elongated snout and long black claws on hands and feet. She had a small crest running from above her eyes over the back of her head and large, sad eyes, with vertical pupils regarded him keenly. A distorted voice issued from her mouth.

  “Ith that you Trag? I feel you there but only thee a drakon.”

  Trag sent to her, it would be easier to converse that way and far quicker and more honest. Bethanty felt the link and joined to it so they were speaking mind to mind.

  “Oh Trag, what has become of us? Look at you, a fine male drakon and look at me, Spawn.”

  “What is ‘Spawn’ Bethanty?”

  “It’s the creatures that the tithed young girls eventually become. Serkahn has found a way of seeding them to produce beings like myself to make an army for him.”

  “Where are th
e rest of the Spawn Bethanty, the caves feel almost deserted?”

  “They left yesterday to travel to the hive of Queen Zaldara. Serkahn wants to rule that hive and he’s going to take it by force. He has nearly a hundred like me to do it. Spawn are strong and excellent fighters.”

  Traginal considered what Bethanty was saying, aware that Zirca was picking this up. So were Septican and Vistala for that matter.

  “Why aren’t you with them Bethanty?” he asked gently.

  Her shoulders slumped a little and she looked down, measuring her response.

  “Some of us are failures. Some grew deformed and died, others went insane. Some like me retained too much memory of what we were which makes us generally less aggressive. Spawn like me are used as servants to cook, clean and care for the rest. I was left with four or five others to keep order in the caverns for the Spawns’ return.”

  Traginal was saddened. He’d hoped, nay dreamed, when he was a little crippled boy in a cart, that he would rescue Bethanty from being tithed. He couldn’t prevent her tithing but he could rescue her from this.

  “We have to go and warn Zaldara of the imminent attack on her hive. I’ll come back for you Bethanty. I promise.”

  Her strange face lost some of its sadness and she shyly stepped forward and put her arms around his neck, scales to scales.

  “Thank you Traginal Mycindun, I’ll wait patiently for your return.”

  There was a roar from the mouth of the cavern. Bethanty stepped back as Traginal swung about and raced outside. His Queen had called. Zirca was concerned about Zaldara and wanted them to leave immediately. Who knew how fast Spawn travelled overland? Vistala climbed up the offered bent foreleg onto Traginal’s back and they leapt into the air. Traginal looked down as they rose, in time to see a forlorn figure surrounded by two or three others like her, waving farewell. Can drakons have lumps in their throats?

  Traginal did.

  So. Serkahn was on his way to take control of Zaldara’s hive. It would destroy all of their plans if he did. Once Serkahn had wrested control of the hive from Zaldara, the drakon workers in it would be turned loose on the army and navy of Boronia and there would be no stopping Duke Erkhart in his plans for expansion. Prince Lermond would never become the great King he was destined to be and Wiley Balfour would most likely be dispossessed of his Keep. That would truly sorrow Vistala who had become his friend when she stepped in to fill the place in his life once occupied by Bethanty. A place which had become vacant when Septican and he had to flee their home village of Bardton.