Were of the Drakon Page 8

  “Well old friend. What say you?”

  Septican put down his cup and glanced once at Trag before answering.

  “The lad speaks True. You and I must have a private conversation after we’ve eaten, as there are things of great importance you need to be aware of. The world is changing and we must change with it Wiley Balfour or it will pass us by.”

  After lunch Wiley took Septican up to the library on the second floor. The sun shone in through the tall, narrow windows lighting the colourful, woven rugs scattered across the floor. There were bookcases full of books on nearly every subject required to run a keep plus many others on esoteric subjects. Not the least magic. Once they were settled Wiley turned to address Septican.

  “Alright. I know you Septican, spill it out,” he growled.

  “What I tell you must remain a secret until it can’t be kept any longer. The gist of it is, that drakon out there in your stable is a sentient Queen.”

  Wiley’s head shot up and his gaze bored into Septican.

  “Do you believe that?”

  Septican nodded.

  “And what’s more, she wants to turn Trag into her mate.”

  Wiley sat bolt upright in surprise, shaking his head.

  “I suppose you believe that too. It’s just a myth isn’t it? Invented by drakon lovers for a bit of mystery.”

  “I think it’s the truth Wiley. Just before I left Bardton a book came into my possession written by a wizard over a hundred years ago which confirms it. The young queen shackled in your stable was made to start off a new drakon hive. She’s taken a shine to Trag and wants to transform him into her mate. I gave my permission. He will have to stay here for two years until he’s grown enough to leave. If you let Zirca go when she can fly, she will return with plenty of gold for your troubles. You’ll be a rich man but we all have to be as secretive as possible as she, and Trag, could be in danger from Serkahn. He’s the only male at the moment and he’s the mate of Zaldara in Melintana.”

  Wiley shook his head.

  “It’s almost beyond belief Septican. On one hand I’ve got a drakon I could sell for gold, on the other hand I have you asking me to let her go so she can bring gold back for me and only a boy’s story for verification. I stand to lose everything if she doesn’t return.”

  Septican was tired of Wiley’s prevarication and indecision. He pointed to the bookcase and mumbled. Several books slid off the shelf and hovered in the air. Another slight gesticulation and a mumble and the books were circling in the air. Round and round. Wiley gasped at this overt display of magic, performed with little or no effort by his friend. Shortly, all the books were placed back on the shelf in the same order they were in before Septican had used them for his display of magic.

  “Wiley, the boy needs this and so do I. I’m a Healer and a damn fine one and you’ll have my services as an added bonus. I’ll stand surety for Zirca.”

  “Alright, alright. I cede Septican. As soon as that damn drakon can fly it can go and bring me gold. You just have to hope it returns.”

  For the next two weeks Trag learned a little more magic every day from Septican and spent some time talking with Vistala, who showed him how to play the game of knuckles but his nights were spent with Zirca. They became inseparable and wherever he was in the keep, Trag could communicate with her. The drakon was also becoming more tractable with others and the servants who cared for her became less frightened in her presence. At the end of two weeks Zirca said she was healed. That evening Septican took the splint off and felt the wing bone. There was no callous or any evidence whatsoever that it had ever been broken.

  The following morning, under Wiley’s worried, watchful eye, the shackles were removed from her legs and Zirca was allowed out of the barn, although all present knew they couldn’t have stopped her anyway. The drakon stood in the sun for a while soaking up the warmth before bending her head to Trag for her farewell. He looked into her eye and gave her scales a rub. Only she heard him say the words which sprang unbidden to his mind.

  “I love you Zirca.”

  The drakon sprang into the air, her wings beating in powerful downsweeps, dust and loose debris flying about the yard and soon she became just a tiny dot in the sky before finally disappearing altogether. Everyone present just exchanged quizzical looks. Would she ever return?

  It was a tense wait for all concerned, particularly Trag, who missed Zirca more than he’d missed anything before in his short life and Wiley, who took to pacing back and forth in his library, cursing himself for being convinced to release the drakon. A week went by and Wiley became more taciturn daily, snapping at his staff and giving Trag some odd dark looks. Trag noticed them but he had trust in Zirca and pretended not to see. Another few days went by and Wiley finally came to him for a reckoning.

  “Where’s your drakon now young Trag? Flown the coop.”

  Trag looked up at Wiley, not at all cowed by him.

  “It’s a long way to the hive and back but she will return, I’ve seen her mind and we have a bond.”

  Wiley just snorted and walked off to pace in his library once more. That’s where he was two days later when there was a loud cry from the courtyard. They all rushed outside in time to see Zirca settle tiredly onto the cobbles in front of the keep. In her front feet she carried a small iron bound chest which she placed on the ground in front of Wiley, before stepping back and looking around for Trag, who’d allowed Septican to carry him outside. Zirca sat up on her back legs took the lad gently from the wizard. She cradled the little mite against her chest before leaping into the air, her wings beating with great sweeps as she gained height before circling around the keep.

  Wiley bent and undid the clasps on the chest to throw the lid back. The shimmer of gold and scattered jewels dazzled all who looked into it. There was a small fortune within. Enough to easily support everyone in the keep for ten years or more. He thrust his hands into the king’s ransom and ran gold coins through his fingers, mesmerised by the wealth before him. With a sigh of contentment Wiley shut the lid of the chest, doing up the clasps before standing to throw his arms around Septicon.

  “How could I ever doubt you my friend. Trag and Zirca are welcome here as long as they want to stay.”

  As the words left his mouth there was a great buffeting of wings, the wind rushing all around them as Zirca landed in the courtyard again, light as a feather, cradling a beaming Trag.

  7. Change

  For the next fortnight there was much activity in Balfour’s Keep. All the staff were sworn to secrecy regarding the drakon and the gold she had brought and because Wiley Balfour knew every one of them, some since they were born in his keep, he was confident word would not get out.

  Speaking through Trag, Zirca demanded the barn she had been chained captive in as her residence and more straw was brought to make a deep and comfortable bed for her. Unsure if Serkahn was still keeping an eye out for her or had merely left her for dead, Zirca was wary of hunting for her food as it would advertise her presence in the area. She determined food should be brought to her and through Trag advised Wiley accordingly. Wiley didn’t have to think about it at all, the chest of gold Zirca had brought him was worth far more than the few requests the drakon made. Zirca favoured sheep or goats to eat and luckily there were plenty of goats in the hills about Balfour’s Keep so there was no shortage of sustenance for the drakon.

  The only people she allowed into the barn were Trag, Septican and surprisingly, Vistala. The drakon made it known to Trag that she would eat anyone else who came there. Trag informed Wiley of this and Wiley, the proud owner of a chest of gold and jewels, warned his people accordingly.

  The reason for the ban on people visiting the barn was more than just a requirement for privacy, for Trag was soon to undergo the process of transformation. It would start with him being a food supply for a developing drakon. For around two months his paralysed body would lie unmoving as the embryonic beast inside him developed, drawing nourishment from his tissues
like a chicken embryo using up a yolk. While he was in this state he would be extremely vulnerable and Zirca would guard his little, twisted body day and night but even drakons must answer the calls of nature. While she was absent, it was determined Septican would remain with his grandson’s body. Vistala had asked her father’s permission to help in the barn and offered to regularly wash Trag’s comatose form and check he was vermin free. Wiley was quietly proud of his daughter’s involvement, especially when Zirca readily agreed to her services. The queen knew that nothing must interfere with the development of the drakon inside Trag.

  “I’m afraid Grandfather,” Trag confessed one evening as the time for his transformation drew nigh. “What if something goes wrong and I cease to exist?”

  Septican quietly looked around the little garden they had taken to spending time together in before ruffling the boy’s hair.

  “The world would be a much poorer place Trag if your light went out but what makes you think something will go wrong?”

  “I dunno. Just the thought of something growing inside me sends shivers down my spine. What if none of me goes into it?”

  The old man sat stroking his long, white beard, a sign Trag well knew meant his grandfather was thinking deeply about his considered reply.

  “Zirca assures us it will. There’s natural magic in royal drakons Trag and that’s something we cannot underestimate. No one knows how it works or where they get it from but it seems to be something they command. If that is combined with the common magic I use, who knows what might be accomplished.”

  Trag’s face brightened as he thought about having natural magic at his disposal. He sat quietly, wondering what form it would take and how he could use it when Septicon suddenly started to chuckle. Trag looked up at him as his grandfather wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling.

  “Sorry Trag, I just had a thought. Here you are wondering about something growing inside you when half the population go through the very same thing. That’s what women do when they have children and many of them a lot more than just once.”

  Trag saw the joke and knew his grandfather was trying to allay his fears about the coming events but it was the thought of the pain he would have to endure until the process came to its conclusion. He didn’t know if he could bear it. Women in childbirth bore it but that was soon over and didn’t last for around two months.

  The sun dipped below the keep walls and immediately Trag felt the cool breeze from the sea as it swirled through the trees of the garden. It was time for the evening meal, after which he would go to Zirca and spend the night asleep between her forelimbs, deep in her dreams. She made him feel relaxed and wanted and his butterflies fled when he was in her company.

  Finally it was the day. Wiley’s people in the keep knew something was going on but not what. Most of them were happy to have the security of the drakon gold but were still trepiditious about having the drakon herself in the keep. Still, as long as they didn’t have to cross paths with her, everything would be fine. Time had run out for Trag and there were now no more days left for him to wonder and worry about what was going to ensue. The hour had finally arrived. Septican walked slowly beside the cart as Trag defiantly made his own way from the keep to the barn where a mattress, stuffed with scented herbs had been placed on a low bier to keep his body off the ground. The herbs inside it would keep insects away and its softness should prevent pressure sores developing during the two months he lay on it.

  As they opened the door and entered the dimly lit barn, both Septican and Trag caught the flash of light reflected from Zirca’s scales before Septicon closed the door. Each day since her return, Zirca had been losing the brassy colour from her scales as they turned more golden. Now she was resplendent, gold and glowing in all her regal majesty, a Princess Drakon about to become a Queen.

  Trag felt her mind join with his and he glowed at the touch. She felt the worry there, the fear of pain and gently brushed his mind with reassurance, communicating to him the actuality.

  “There will be no pain my future mate. Before we start I will inject you with a very small amount of venom. I’ve adjusted it to slow your heart to a minimum and to take away all pain during the growth of your true form. You are too great to be contained in that tiny broken shell. It was never meant for one as magnificent as you.”

  Trag glowed at the compliment and felt a desire to get everything underway but Zirca spoke into his mind again.

  “Tell your Grandfather what is about to happen. After you are envenomed, I will make a small incision in your belly and insert a special egg. He is not to watch after you are envenomed, on pain of death, as the process must be kept secret but once it is complete he can place you on your bed.”

  Trag related this to Septicon who nodded in understanding. The old wizard was well aware that some things had to remain secret; indeed, some of what he studied had to remain an enigma to most.

  It was time.

  Trag allowed Septican to pick him up and cradle him in those large arms, tucked up against the voluminous beard as Septican kissed the top of his head for a final time. He felt his Grandfather stifle his tears as, after one final hug he handed Trag to Zirca. The drakon gently took Trag and held him in front of her. He lay defenceless, trusting her as she bared her fangs. A small drop of fluid appeared at the end of one of the sharpest and without warning she stabbed it into Trag’s shoulder. He gave a little cry but stifled it, trying to be brave for all their sakes. Septican winced at his reaction. Within minutes, Trag’s head was lolling on his neck and he barely breathed. Zirca held out the lad’s body for Septican to inspect and just as Trag had said, he was non-responsive and his heart rate was slowed to a minimum.

  Septican nodded to Zirca and turned away. One didn’t disobey a royal drakon. He missed seeing Zirca suck on one of her talons before using it to make a small incision through Trag’s shirt then an even smaller one into his body after which she stood on her hind legs and held him at the base of her abdomen. The scales parted and from a small vent an ovipositor emerged, searching for warm flesh. It entered the small hole in Trag’s abdomen and pulsed once before being withdrawn and returning back into the small vent. The scales fused back together and it was as if there had never been an opening there.

  Zirca rumbled deep in her throat and Septican turned to her as she held out Trag’s limp body. He received it effortlessly, it felt light as a feather, and took it to the waiting mattress were he solemnly placed the malformed mite before covering him with a blanket. Trag looked so peaceful, a slight smile on his face as though he were merely asleep and dreaming. Septican sighed as another tear coursed down his cheek. He brushed it away with the back of his hand before turning to regard Zirca.

  “I don’t know if you can understand me or not but look after him, he’s all I have and I’ve given him into your care. Don’t fail us Zirca.”

  The drakon could understand and although she couldn’t communicate it, she could also feel. She felt Septican’s pain, his pride and his fierce protective instincts. She also felt his magic, welling close beneath the surface and was pleased. This was a powerful family.

  The last thing Trag knew was gazing up into a jaw full of viciously sharp teeth and the pain of being stabbed by one of them before a warm glow suffused his body and all his pain vanished. Pain he’d had since birth, a product of his twisted form, constantly eating at him. Gone. He only had a second or two to marvel at it before lapsing into unconscious darkness.

  Vistala came each day to wash Trag’s immobile body. She always checked his pulse to make sure he lived before cleaning him. It wasn’t a chore, his little body was so light it was easy to move and turn. She also checked for sores but there were none and apart from Trag’s belly getting bigger there appeared to be little change in him. Well maybe his cheeks were becoming more sunken and his arms even thinner but she supposed that was to be expected.

  When Septican came, usually after Vistala was finished, they would talk about what to expect when it
was time for the baby drakon to emerge. Neither of them knew for sure what would take place. Occasionally, at these times, when they were both there, Zirca would heed the call of nature and leave the barn. She didn’t dare risk flying and merely walked around the Keep to a more private area which she preferred to use. The gardener found her leavings made excellent fertilizer and his vegetables had never been so large and healthy as they were now.

  Time passed and Septican and Vistala fell into a routine and waited for events to unfold.

  Trag felt constricted. He couldn’t stretch his arms and it seemed as though he was running out of air. Why was it dark? Where was he? Why couldn’t he move? Mild panic set in and he started to struggle, trying to stretch out his arms and legs. Legs? The more he struggled the more he needed to breath. Trag was started to see stars and succumb to a lack of oxygen when suddenly the space he was in expanded and he felt himself gently lifted up. He risked opening a sticky eye and saw before him the withered remains of a small, twisted body with an opened abdomen.

  His body.

  Trag turned his wobbly head and struggling to open the other eye, saw a drakon. Well part of a drakon, she was golden and immense. He looked down and there was a tiny drakon foreleg. It moved. He waved his arm and the little foreleg moved again. It all came flooding back in that instant and he started to panic, flapping his tiny wings and squirming while his tail thrashed backward and forward. Wings? Tail?

  Warm comforting thoughts surged through him and he felt the presence of Zirca in his head. He relaxed as she flooded him with reassurance. He knew who he was which meant his thoughts and memories, or a lot of them, had come through the process unchanged. He relaxed, breathing deeply and experimented with moving parts of his body. He had legs which worked now and a tail to complicate matters as well as budding wings. How did people manage to move and control all these extremities at one time?