Were of the Drakon Read online

  Presently, with only night sounds around them, they turned in and Trag lay wrapped in his blanket, unable to sleep. His thoughts were of castles and drakons and Reavers as he reviewed what his Grandfather had told him.

  Suddenly it was morning.

  The sky was bright and cloudless and it was a little chilly out of the blankets but Trag got himself ready as Septican prepared breakfast. Trag was quiet proud he wasn’t a burden and could do so much for himself. It made him somewhat independent. As there was no worry of discovery, Grandfather had decided to cook bacon and eggs and fry some bread in the fat. Trag’s mouth was watering in anticipation of this treat and the reality was every bit as delectable. Far preferable to the porridge he’d being eating for breakfast until now. After some hot tea to wash the fried bread down, their camp was packed up and Rundle placed back between the shafts of their wagon. Soon they were on their way again.

  Before the morning was half over, the wagon rounded the top of a hill and Trag was presented with his first sight of the sea. He fell in love with the endless blue, stretching away to the far horizon, the day so clear he could almost see the curve of the planet, although the blue of the sky merging with the blue of the sea at some far off indistinct point hindered that just a little. He would have liked Maestra Winholme to see this sight and realise how silly it was to think the earth was flat. She may not know of such things but Trag had Septican to teach him and Septican knew everything.

  Eventually Trag tore his gaze from the sea to find his Grandfather silently observing him.

  “Thought I’d lost you for a moment there Trag. Impressive isn’t it?”

  Trag could merely nod. Words seem to have fled him in awe. His Grandfather pointed down toward the shore, where, tiny in the distance, a tower could be seen sticking up above the trees.

  “That there is our destination, Balfour’s Keep. We should be there afore dark. It will be good to be inside again. What do you think young man?”

  Trag was so excited it was all he could do to nod dumbly in reply, although there was also a little fragment of doubt in there too. He would soon have to interact with new people who didn’t know him or how he could manage and put up with those odd looks and the pity folk showed him, all the while trying to establish his independence in a completely strange environment. Still, if life was meant to be easy he wouldn’t have these withered legs.

  4. Serkahn

  Duke Erkhart paced to and fro in front of the tall library windows which looked out to the forested hills at the rear of his large house. It was built on a level shelf of land well above the valley floor. The view from the front offered a commanding outlook of all approaches. The house and its outbuildings were entirely encircled by a defensive wall, a remnant from earlier, less settled times when his forebears had to hold the huge estates they had carved out of the land. The Duke paused his pacing for a moment to admire his reflection in the full length, framed mirror on its ornate stand in front of the bookshelves. Although the Duke had witnessed fifty summers, he didn’t look a day over forty, his short cut beard still as dark as his hair. He’d kept himself in shape with riding and weapons practice and as he admired his trim form he wondered yet again if consorting with a drakon had helped keep him young.

  A shadow crossed his face as he thought yet again of his twin sister, captured by the dreaded Draakon Reavers over forty years ago now. He still remembered their trip to the city that day so long ago, ten year olds in the care of a trusted retainer, out to do some shopping and buy gifts for the forthcoming festivities of Dramad’s Day when everyone celebrated His sacrifice to Man. They were in the shopping precinct with only the markets between them and the harbour when the Reaver ships appeared off to the north. As soon as the red sails of their sleek vessels were spotted, panic spread through the crowds of shoppers. The young heir to the Dukedom and his sister were quickly bundled into their coach to make a speedy exit back to their father’s estates but the coach was caught in the crush of the escaping crowds. They were forced to join the tumultuous throng and flee on foot. Somehow the twins were separated and he’d won free while his sister was captured by the Reavers who’d come looking for plunder and slaves.

  For any normal person it was an incident which would have been buried in the depths of forgetfulness as the years passed by, piling one atop the next but there had always been a very special bond between the Duke and his twin sister, he would always feel her within him while she lived and live she did.

  Somewhere.

  The Duke paused again in his pacing and sat silently by the window, resting. He’d left the royal palace in Conurbal earlier in the day to escape his duties as Regent for a while. The day’s business was now finished but while he’d been advising the nearly sixteen year old Prince, Lermond, on the best solutions to the many problems which arise on a day to day basis, his mind had been elsewhere. Specifically, on himself, his favourite subject. The young Prince would have to die before he turned eighteen and gained the throne, so the Duke could finally rule Melintana as King. It was his due.

  There came a tendril of thought stealing into his mind like it had done many times before. Serkahn, the great male drakon requested his presence. Serkahn, he mused. A hundred years ago that great beast had once been a Prince of Melintana himself, third in line to the throne before he’d offered himself to the drakon Queen, Zaldara. She’d somehow turned the handsome young man into a male drakon, her mate. Serkahn never went into the specifics about the transformation, apart from mentioning it was an extremely long and painful process.

  Duke Erkhart had first clapped eyes on Serkahn when a pact was finalised between the drakon Queen and the previous king of Melintana to protect his country from the depredations of the Reavers. It came after the raid which had taken his sister. Lamentably, too late to save her. Zaldara, Queen of the drakon hive asked for gold and a yearly tithe of sheep and cattle to help feed the worker drakons who would fly watch. It was paid willingly. Serkahn, her mate, decided to take up residence at the palace, occupying the top of one of its towers as part of the protection for Conurbal. It was a way for Serkahn to become more independent from his Queen and who could argue with him? However, his sojourn at the palace unfortunately reminded him of his royal blood. It took quite a few years before Duke Erkhart, the proud inheritor of his huge estate after the death of his parents, and Serkahn, scheming for a way to take power from his Queen, gravitated toward one another. They didn’t count themselves evil, merely two creatures on the lookout for the best chance at promoting their own agendas.

  The Duke swept out of the library and down the stairs to the ground floor. The servants he neared rushed to get out of his way. Most were indentured and some had been flogged lately for poor performance. The Duke demanded nothing less than the best from his people and he got it but he didn’t hear the low mumblings of dissatisfaction from them in the quiet of the night when they were in their beds in the servant’s dormitory.

  He produced a key from an inner tunic pocket and unlocked a door to a passageway only he had access to. It ended in stairs which wound down into the depths beneath his house where huge vaulted cellars had been constructed in a cave system by long dead workers, their tongues permanently silenced. As he descended the stairs, the Duke smelled the strange pungent aroma that permeated the air down here. Drakon scent. This must be what a hive smelled like only stronger. He approached one of Serkahn’s strange offspring standing guard, its green scales glittering in the torchlight. The drakon Spawn appeared almost human but the Duke knew it was far from that, one had only to look into the vertical slits of its pupils and appreciate the angular, elongated face and the short crest running back over the slightly pointed skull to see the differences from Man.

  The guard stood motionless as the Duke neared, appearing not to register the Duke’s presence until soundlessly, the guard’s serpent-like tongue flickered out, its twin tips tasting the air to confirm the Duke’s identity. Although they understood the Common Speech, their reptilian ton
gues made it difficult for the Spawn to pronounce many of the words but they could still make themselves understood in a lisping fashion. The Spawn only obeyed Serkahn and one day the mighty drakon meant to march them on the hive and wrest it from his Queen. He wanted to rule all drakons. However, there was no pressing need for Serkahn to rush into the takeover; drakons lived a very long time.

  Rounding another corner of the cave the walls opened out and the Duke entered a huge cavern. Reclining at his ease in its centre was a huge black drakon which raised its huge scaly head at the Duke’s approach and looked down on him with amusement. Well, to the Duke it seemed to be amusement he read in the drakon’s carriage. The voice inside his head spoke to him.

  “You seem troubled Duke. I thought a short day’s work at the palace would have you feeling relaxed.”

  The Duke looked up, considering the black drakon’s head silently for a moment or two before answering.

  “My plans have been thwarted. I’ve been trying to get that damn Septican Mycindun and his crippled grandson out of the way but the wily old fox escaped. Apparently Septican ensorcelled the soldier who knocked on his door to examine the cottage and then he and his grandson vanished. Patrols were sent out to the north and west but no trace was seen of them. I should have gone to carry out the task myself but I couldn’t be seen to be interfering with a Healer.”

  Serkahn lazily shifted position and made himself comfortable again, tucking his huge legs in against his body.

  “Remind me again, what is so important about that one old man and the crippled child?”

  “Septican is a wizard who harbours power and he’s also a Healer who is well thought of. I didn’t know it was his son and daughter-in-law, the crippled boy’s mother, I had executed for involvement in fomenting resistance against me all those years ago. It was only through my network of spies that I recently learned of that relationship and the possibility that Septican was acquiring books of more arcane magical knowledge. Whether he wants to revenge himself on me, I don’t know but that whole line carries natural magic in them and Septican or his grandson could be dangerous to us. Revenge is a powerful motivator and I don’t know how strong their magic actually is. That’s why I decreed an end to magic and cripples and beggars in Melintana, mainly to target both of them. I must admit though that since the decree there are no more cripples and beggars on the streets, they seem to have vanished overnight.”

  Serkahn spoke into his mind again.

  “Don’t worry about those two; there are other more pressing matters. What about your bid for the throne?”

  The Duke realised that this conversation with Serkahn may take a while, so he strode over to the large padded armchair which he’d brought down to the cavern for just such an occasion and settling into it, made himself comfortable before replying.

  “I don’t want to move too early. Some of the other Dukes and Earls may become suspicious. I think the Prince will have to sicken and die like his parents did but much closer to his eighteenth birthday. You can still make that poison, can’t you?”

  Serkahn rumbled deep in his throat before he replied.

  “That and any other poison you require. Now, more pertinent to me, how long before the next batch of young women arrive? I need to make yet more of the Spawn to fulfil my plans.”

  Duke Erkhart shuddered; this was something he didn’t like to think of, young girls being used to grow the Spawn. The thought of them having their bellies opened and seed deposited in there so an unnatural creature could grow in them seemed so wrong but he’d made a pact with Serkahn. The huge, black drakon had promised him a share of the Queen’s gold when he came to rule the drakon hive. The Duke responded to Serkahn’s query.

  “This year’s tithe is being rounded up as we speak. I had to collect it only from the larger towns and villages, as some rural areas of Melintana are running out of marriageable age girls. I also had to drop the age of choosing to fourteen summers to make up the numbers.”

  Serkahn roared and the Duke quickly clapped his hands over his ears as the echoes reverberated around the cavern.

  “I don’t care if there are no girls of marriageable age. I want my tithe.”

  The Duke stood up and bravely walked to a spot in front of Serkahn. The drakon approved of valour.

  “If we took too many young girls, I would have a rebellion on my hands and I’d probably be replaced by another Duke or some idiot of an Earl. Trust me with running the country and take whatever I can get for you. You know I have our best interests at heart, that’s what makes us a good team.”

  Serkahn lowered his great head and flickered his tongue out over the Duke, sensing the truth in what the Duke said. The great drakon’s rage slowly subsided and the Duke took the opportunity to gain some information.

  “What of your plans Serkahn, when do you think it will be the right time to challenge Queen Zaldara?”

  The drakon fixed the Duke with his fierce gaze before replying.

  “Once you are King, my task will be simpler and there should be no backlash from the people of Melintana when I take charge of the hive. Once I’m established, we could look at invading Boronia. What do you think?”

  “An excellent plan, Serkahn, something I’d also thought on and we have less than two years to wait.”

  The two took to talking of their aims and aspirations, an unlikely duo chatting in a large echoing cavern beneath the Duke’s estates. One of the topics of the conversation was the secret entry to the caverns which allowed Serkahn and his Spawn to freely come and go. Although Serkahn and his ties to the Duke were well known, none in Melintana knew of the Spawn, as knowledge of their existence would not be well received by the masses. The Duke was politically savvy enough to be aware of this fact and had constructed the main entry to Serkahn’s underground lair by enlarging a cave mouth in a hidden valley behind his ancestral home. That cave was one of the few entries to the cavern complex his house was built on. The Spawn came and went under the cover of darkness to silently run under the trees, using the thick forests of his estate for training and exercise but the more Spawn there were, the more the likelihood of discovery, especially when they crept down to the pasture lands to take a cow to eat now and again. It may only be a beast from the large herd of cattle which the Duke bred just for that purpose but one of the Spawn might be spotted by a loose tongued servant when they were out in the open intent on capturing food.

  “Serkahn. We must continue to ensure the Spawn are never seen. If word of their existence gets out, I’ll cease to be in power. Neither the nobility nor the common people will accept what we are doing here and will not tolerate me as their leader if they find out. To that end, I’ve recently ridden out and rediscovered another cave system in wild country at the very rear of my lands out to the west. I found reference to it in an old journal kept by my grandfather. It’s spacious, warm, dry and defensible. Everything you could possibly need. I want you to move yourself and the Spawn out there to avoid discovery.”

  The great drakon looked down haughtily at the Duke, still sitting in the comfortable armchair.

  “You dare tell me what to do, you puny Man? I will move when I say.”

  “Serkahn. Have you thought about all the extra Spawn there will be over the next two years? We’ve outgrown this place. At least check out the caves I’ve mentioned to see if they are suitable. There’s still plenty of game in the surrounding countryside for the moment, deer, pigs and goats and you can fly in cattle carcasses when required, no one will remark on you making off with my cattle.”

  The drakon rumbled to himself. The Duke was right, they needed more space and besides, he did enjoy eating deer.

  “Very well. I’ll inspect the cave system. Tell me where it is.”

  The Duke let out his breath in relief. He hadn’t realised he was holding it until Serkahn made his decision. It was a relief. One less thing to worry about. They carried on with a discussion of the details.

  Conurbal, the capital, was abuzz. Since
the Duke had left for his estates that morning, a ship from Cheshwon had docked. It had apparently run the risk of sailing through the Wardang Straits at night, using the tide to speed through under the noses of the Draakon Reavers who guarded that narrow stretch of sea. The rewards were potentially great, as Conurbal thirsted for the luxurious and colourful silks the ship carried in its hold, along with the exotic wines and spices. Already the city’s merchants were pushing through the crowds thronging the docks, vying to be invited on board. There were fortunes to be made here.

  The crew had now finished with the tasks of docking the strange looking vessel and the brown faced, slit eyed men and occasional women, although it was difficult telling them apart as they all wore the same garb, stood silently viewing the clamouring mob before them. Eventually, one of their number, more elaborately dressed than the others, ordered the gangplank to be lowered. Before any of the crowd on the docks could possibly advance up it, two of the crew bearing narrow, sheathed swords ran down and stood guard on the dock, one each side of the gangplank, arms crossed in front of their chests. Their intention was obvious and the line of merchants had to wait until the Captain made his way down the gangplank to stand before them on the quayside.