Dragon's Son, page 7
He did not exist.
Amarea’s heart broke.
He does not love me.
Alexis
The stench of smoke was heavy.
Alexis surveyed the day-old ruins with narrowed eyes. As planned, he had left Unimar and traveled north. A wind troubled the white ash, sending it fluttering through the abandoned streets of the northern village. Overhead loomed a deserted ballista tower, blackened by dragon fire.
Three young dragons had attacked the town yesterday. The ballista tower—a necessity in any Northern Beotian community—had been assaulted at the outset. One dragon had been shot and killed quickly. The second and third, however, had torn the ballista men to shreds and then ravaged the town. The dragon slayers on the ground managed to catch and kill the second dragon, but the third had escaped. Most of the townspeople had retreated to the underground bunkers—a mandatory amenity in every Beotian village. Cities had several. The survivors had already buried those who’d been too slow.
“There were two ballistas on that tower.” The prince’s guide pointed at the vacant structure. He was the captain of one of the three dragon slayer companies who had escorted Alexis to the town. “We’ve mounted an extra ballista in every single-tower village. With the young beasts uniting the way they’ve been, one ballista was not enough. But sometimes even two is not enough.” This last sentence, uttered quietly, vibrated with loathing.
Alexis did not answer.
The two men reached the town square. It was unpaved, and claw marks were visible. However, most people would hardly notice the marks, thanks to the dragon carcass lying near the smashed stone well.
The dragon slayers had already begun skinning the beast. Dragon scale armor was an essential part of dragon slaying. Nothing could pierce the chest scales of a dragon, not even a dragon’s teeth or claws. The scales along the spine were nigh equally strong. No dragon carcass was ever left to waste.
Alexis stood still and examined the creature. It was small—perhaps twenty feet from nose to tail tip. A small dragon like this was usually an easy kill for a trained dragon slayer company. Black dragons were known for their independence, however, and Alexis had never heard of them working together.
Still eying the carcass, Alexis raised a finger and broke the silence. “I was told that some adults had been sighted.”
“Yes, a few. More than usual, but the consensus is that the adults are merely taking advantage of the disorder wrought by the dragon children. Something has gotten into these young ones. Three dragons together is no longer unusual to us. We’ve seen as many as four attacking together.”
“With strategy?” Alexis asked.
The captain grimaced. “Hard to say, sire. Yes and no. Their strategy seems to be to overwhelm the slayers and kill as many people as they can. They do cooperate sometimes, as they did with the ballista tower. They unite only to fight, however. When we bait traps with gold, they come alone.”
“Dragons do not share prey anymore than they share gold,” Alexis murmured.
The captain nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.” His tone was solemn. “We have not discovered why they’ve suddenly changed that.”
Voices sounded from the opposite side of the square, and Sebastian appeared, accompanied by a cluster of dragon slayers. Both princes—Alexis and Sebastian—wore dragon slayer armor. The impervious full-body suits were stitched from dragon skin and fixed with scales. A man did not deal with dragons wearing anything less.
An unnatural wind rustled the air.
Alexis stiffened.
A dragon slayer bugle blew.
“Dragon!” someone shouted.
Multiple roars reverberated.
“Inside, sire!” The captain shoved Alexis toward the nearest building.
The men skinning the carcass dropped their tools and dashed for shelter.
As Alexis and the captain dove through the doorway, the building exploded in a spray of brick and mortar.
The two men fell back, shielding their eyes from the dust.
“Alexis!” Sebastian cried.
Fire enveloped the town square.
Alexis covered his head.
Claws closed around him. He was lifted.
The dust and fire sank far below as Alexis and the dragon swiftly gained altitude.
The prince yanked out a shiro knife—the thin, steel blades of the slayers—and shoved it between the looser ankle scales. The dragon roared but did not drop him, beating the air with powerful wingstrokes. Alexis stabbed again and missed, the blade tip glancing off the scales.
Suddenly, they were descending. Alexis was dropped and hit the ground from a dozen feet and sent rolling.
The dragon landed with a whooshing sound and another roar.
Winded and hurt, Alexis struggled to get his breath back.
“So!” the dragon snarled. “All hail the noble prince! All hail Alexis the Great! All hail…all hail the traitor and the fool.”
Alexis coughed. They had come to a meadow and were utterly alone.
The massive beast shivered and shrank. Its wings disappeared. It stood upright.
“Villian!” Alexis choked.
“Yes,” Villian chuckled. “You’re looking rather worn, little brother. I say, have you grown?”
Alexis got to his feet unsteadily, hatred strengthening him. “Villian!” he spat.
His brother was paler and his eyes glinted more brightly, but otherwise, he looked the same. His clothing was as black as the scales he had shed.
“So, here we are at last,” Villian hissed. “All hail the Prince of Beotia! All hail the Dragon’s Son!”
“Do not mock me for achieving where you failed,” Alexis growled.
“Where I failed?” Villian’s face darkened, and he stepped closer with deliberate strides. He looked Alexis up and down, measuring.
“Why have you brought me here?” Alexis demanded.
“Look at yourself, Alexis. A little human, but you’ve done so much better than I expected! I listened for news of you, and what news! Oh, so much news! Glory is yours, little brother. Glory is yours.”
He attempted to circle Alexis, but the young man stepped back. “Glory is mine,” Alexis agreed. “Beotia is mine. The mountains are yours, Villian. A life of hunting and scavenging, of sitting on treasure in caves.”
“Glorious treasure.” Villian quivered with delight.
“Wasted.”
Villian transformed. Dragon again, he caught Alexis by surprise and knocked him to the earth with a single paw and pinned him there. Alexis gagged for air and reached for one of the many shiro knives strapped about him, but the dragon pushed harder, trapping his arms in place.
“I’m going to break you, little brother,” Villian gnashed. “I’m going to break your weak human bones and high human pride. I’m going to eat your wife and kill our father and send my hosts to devour your kingdom. I have dragons with me, brother! More than Beotia could ever defeat.”
“No!” Alexis gasped, unable to manage any other word. He could not breathe. No training, no experience could aid him.
Villian suddenly moved his foot and bit down on him.
Alexis screamed as his bones cracked.
Villian reared back and then bit him again. He could not penetrate Alexis’s armor, but that didn’t mean he could not crush the man to death. Alexis would die from his organs being squashed.
Alexis ripped a slender blade from his gauntlet, but already, he could not fight. The dragon bit him a third time, clamping his teeth on Alexis’s leg.
“Villian!” Alexis cried. “Villian!”
Villian roared, shooting fire upward in a column.
“Beotia is mine,” Villian hissed. “Die in this field and know, brother. I am the stronger.” With a bat of his paw, Villian cast Alexis across the turf and then took off into the sky. His voice rang down with scorn. “Can you not move, human? Do try to crawl home—I will not stop you! Beotia needs you! Can you not crawl? How surprising! It’s almost as though I’m better than you! Feel your death and failure, brother! I am stronger!”
Alexis lay on the grass, life ebbing away. Breathing was agony. He twitched involuntarily, and the movement sent pangs through his throbbing body.
He gulped and then helplessly huffed a sob of grief. Images of Villian’s promised annihilation filled his eyes. He twitched again and cried out. The spasms intensified. Laying there useless, Alexis screamed into the night. Beotia! The magnificent pain blanched compared to his desperation to chase after his brother and save his people. He wanted to stand, but he could not even sit up. The anguish of impotence scourged him. His people!
Rain began falling.
Alexis screamed again.
Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled.
Intense purpose burned within the dying prince. His raging screams mingled with Maximor’s thunderous storm.
“Do it!” Alexis shouted.
Lightning forked.
“Do it!”
An internal fire heated in his veins. His skin blackened and hardened as scales crept up his arms. His broken bones mended. His back arched as the throes of growing wings overcame him.
Then, it all melted away—the healing, the dragon-change. It had merely been a foreshadowing.
Alexis felt a power ask if he would prefer this change to death.
“Do it,” the prince panted.
Alexis saw red. He smelled ash.
Lightning flashed again, and he saw no more.
Amarea
Amarea dropped her book and ran for the infirmary. Julia flew after her, barely keeping pace.
The guards let her through. Bursting through the doors, Amarea found the infirmary a bustle of activity. Doctors and apprentices rushed about. The king was shouting. Sebastian caught sight of the princess and went to her at once.
“He’s alive,” Sebastian affirmed before she could speak.
“Take me to him!” Amarea begged, gripping his hands.
“The physicians are tending to him,” Sebastian replied. “They need space.”
The king did not appear to think so. He stood in the middle of the flurry, barking orders for a miracle.
Amarea kept off to the side. Sebastian stood beside her, face grim.
“What happened?” Amarea asked weakly.
“A dragon. Alexis was attacked. Four little ones and an adult. The adult carried him off.”
Amarea caught a glimpse of the prince, laying on the infirmary bed, but then her view was blocked again.
“When did this happen?”
“Three days ago,” Sebastian said.
“Tell me everything!”
“He is suffering a high fever.”
“Poison?”
“Maybe. He’s been delirious since we found him. His fever fluctuated all through the journey home. He’s yet to fully waken. A family of peasants carried him out of the rain and brought us to him.”
“Minerva bless them,” Amarea breathed.
It was not long before things calmed and Amarea was able to slip to Alexis’s side. The physicians drew back to give the princess room.
His lids were closed, but his eyes moved. He was coated in sweat. Amarea took his burning hand.
Alexis, Amarea called silently.
She had never seen such a fever. She sniffed, surprised to find that she was crying.
“We will do all we can, Your Highness,” a physician murmured behind her. “All we can.”
“Do more!” Amarea snapped. “Save him. Save him.”
For hours, Alexis was fussed over. King Pereas withdrew, but Amarea stayed, disdaining food and taking little drink. An apprentice brought a cushion for her to kneel on. As Sebastian had described, Alexis’s fever rose, fell, and rose again. An hour before dusk, however, the spikes became less frequent. Though his fever remained, it was not so hot, and the physicians tentatively suggested that the danger was passing. Hours after sundown, the spikes had ceased completely. Sometime after midnight, Amarea accidentally fell asleep, and when she woke, it was early morning. The doctors had withdrawn, leaving an apprentice with the precautionary task of bathing Alexis’s moderately warm brow. Amarea sent the boy to bed and bathed Alexis’s brow herself, making sure the rag on his forehead stayed cool. Wearily, she leaned against the bed again, resting her head on the mattress.
“Maximor, Minerva, have mercy on me,” Amarea prayed, touching Alexis’s cheek. “Do not let his fever return. Heal him. Bring him back to me.”
There came a noise from behind, and Amarea started.
“Forgive me,” Sebastian said, sitting in a chair against the wall. “I shall leave, Your Highness.”
“No,” Amarea replied, turning back to Alexis. “I didn’t know you were there. You may stay if you wish.”
Since she did not hear him move again, she supposed he had decided to remain. She wondered if he had been sitting there all night.
“Do you pray, Sebastian?” Amarea asked.
“Yes.”
Amarea looked back at him. “To Beotia’s gods?”
Sebastian did not answer at once. “My god,” he said, “is a god of many kingdoms.”
“He is strong?”
“I have prayed to him most fervently, Your Highness, for Alexis’s recovery.”
Amarea turned her gaze to Alexis again. “You have long been Alexis’s friend, haven’t you?”
“For twelve years or more, Your Highness. We were raised together, for a time.”
Amarea sniffed, for her silent tears had returned. She scrubbed them away.
The door opened. One of the physicians had returned. He bore a bowl in one hand and a case in the other. Sebastian stood up and pulled the door open wider to allow the doctor easier entry, and then shut it quietly and followed the physician as he ambled toward the bed.
“Time to bleed him, Your Highness,” the doctor apologized.
“I can handle the sight of blood,” Amarea said.
The doctor nodded and set the bowl on the bed.
“You’ve bled him twice already!” Sebastian growled, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought his fever wasn’t dangerous anymore.”
“I know my business, my lord,” the doctor said.
Amarea scowled.
Physicians were the only commoners who got away with impertinence.
Silence pervaded the room. The doctor worked calmly, cutting the prince’s flesh.
A yelp of pain escaped the physician’s mouth as a drop of Alexis’s blood touched his finger.
Cold fell over the princess as she stared at the dribbling red slipping from Alexis’s arm. Thin steam wafted from the blood.
The doctor backed away.
Sebastian stepped closer.
“Dra—!”
Sebastian clamped a hand over the doctor’s mouth and buried a fist in his stomach. Amarea leapt to her feet, staunching Alexis’s cut with a wad of blanket. She looked at Sebastian in horror.
“Kill him!” she ordered, eyes on the doctor.
Sebastian had one arm around the doctor to keep him from running. The other was behind the doctor’s back. The doctor’s face was white. Sebastian had a knife to his spine.
“Dragon!” the doctor panted. “You know he’s a dragon, sire! The blood!”
“I’ve seen it,” Sebastian hissed. “So have you. So has the princess. Let’s not lose our heads yet, shall we? Cry out, and you’re dead.”
“Kill him!” Amarea insisted.
“I’ll not speak!” the doctor promised.
“Into that corner!” Sebastian thrust the old man away from him.
Amarea gaped at Sebastian in disbelief. “I said—”
“I can’t carry a dead man out of here without raising questions. And I may be Beotian in some ways, but not in all.” Sebastian sheathed his dagger and cast the princess a look of disapproval.
He stepped up to the bed and examined the steaming blood closer. Then he turned and opened the doctor’s case.
“What do we do?” Amarea asked.
“Bandage him up and not let anyone else bleed him. No one is to hear of this. His Highness, the prince, has a bit of explaining to do.” Producing bandages from the case, Sebastian began wrapping Alexis’s arm.
“The bowl.” Amarea reached for it.
“It won’t be a problem, soon,” Sebastian said. He tied the bandages and then straightened, gaze lingering on his friend. “The blood will cool and no one will know the difference.”
Amarea looked into the bowl. The small pool was still steaming.
“Set it down,” Sebastian said.
“Do not tell me what to do,” Amarea growled in a trembling voice. “Did you know he was a dragon?”
Sebastian glanced at the doctor, standing mute in the corner. “He was not a dragon before this.”
“Are you lying?”
“I am not a traitor, Your Highness.”
A distant clanging caught Amarea’s ear. She frowned, cocking her head toward the sound. “What’s that?”
Sebastian stiffened. “Bells,” he breathed. “Warning bells!”
Two strides got him to the door. He wrenched it open and stuck his head out.
“Dragons, my lord!” a guard in the hall exclaimed.
Alexis
Alexis opened his eyes and found himself in the palace infirmary.
Villian.
Dragons.
Alexis stirred and winced. His body was stiff. Gritting his teeth, he sat upright and glanced about him.
He was alone. Light slipped through the cracks in the shutters. Day.
And what was that noise?
Alexis brought his hands up and examined them. They looked the same as before, but it was not as it should be.
His talons. His scales. He did not see them.
Alexis stiffened. He could hear a ruckus in the distance. His skin prickled.
Battle.
Blood.
Beotia.
Alexis rose from his bed.
Amarea
Screams raked the air as dragon fire swept the ramparts.
“Get him inside!” The shout identified the masked dragon slayer captain as Lord Fabius. Obeying his command, two other dragon slayers hauled a fallen comrade up the palace steps.
