BestsellerBound Short Story Anthology Volume 3 Page 5

  This must be what a mouse feels like when it sniffs a trap for the first time.

  Fear surged through her as she realized what would happen when she didn’t bring more wood in for her father – he would be furious – not to mention how she would explain the thunderous crashing sounds he must have heard as the object clipped their roof. But at that moment, something spurred her forward; she could not explain it but knew in her heart that she had to examine the object that had crashed. As she drew nearer, the object began to take on a more familiar shape – what had looked like just a large mound from a distance was now more elongated, with a spiked tail trailing out the back and large, leathery wings stretched to both sides. With increasing horror, Callen realized she was gazing upon a dragon! It must be a relatively young one, judging by the size, but it was still as large as Callen’s cottage. The beast was lying with its head partially under one wing and it was obviously badly wounded. There were scorch marks all along the blue-black scales covering its body, where wizard fire had obviously struck. Most dragons repelled wizard fire with ease unless they were caught by surprise or were very young – which this one seemed to be. Callen knew she should flee and call for help, but for some reason she just could not bring herself to do so. She stared at the creature in awe of its obvious power, for she could feel the magical aura radiating from it.

  She crept closer to the beast and moved around towards the creature’s head, being careful to avoid the outstretched wings and tail. Now that she was closer she could see the dragon was still breathing, though the breaths were ragged and shallow. Guided by her curiosity, Callen leaned forward to get a better look at the beast’s head. As she craned her neck forward, a fallen branch caused her to stumble. The sound of the limb breaking echoed through the forest like a gunshot, and the dragon’s eye snapped open with a start – the pupil narrowing as it focused on Callen. The piercing stare of the fiery orb transfixed her.

  The giant eye narrowed and the dragon snorted, sending a jet of dark blue-black flame just past Callen – a little to the left and she would have been incinerated. Callen screamed and dropped to her knees, covering her head with her hands.

  “Please! Don’t hurt me!” she cried, her body shaking with fear.

  “Hmph,” snorted the dragon again, between ragged breaths, though this time there was no fire. “You…you are a… puny excuse for a wysard… human!” it gasped.

  Callen was astounded – she never knew dragons could speak! According to her father and most other wizards, dragons were not much better than beasts of burden to either be harnessed for work or killed for magical ingredients.

  “You can s-s-speak?” she asked, tentatively.

  The dragon did not move its head but rolled the giant eye that was facing her.

  “Of course I can speak!” it wheezed in exasperation. “Ours is the… first of… the races, human – dragons can communicate… with every living thing!”

  The more the beast spoke, Callen realized that though the voice was coarse and deep, it was distinctly… female!

  “What happened?? Why did you almost crash into my house?!”

  The dragon did not answer immediately, as a shudder rippled through its body and the great golden eye focused on Callen blinked several times. After several more ragged breaths, the pain seemed to pass and the creature looked at Callen again.

  “Why should I trust you wysard? Why do you torture me so? Does seeing my pain warm your black heart?”

  Callen blanched. She had never harmed another living creature in her life – she would even open windows to shoo flies out of her house instead of swatting them. She was horrified that the dragon thought she would derive pleasure from seeing such suffering.

  “What? No! You don’t understand! I would never harm you – and I am NOT a wizard! I mean… yes, I practice magic, but I live my life as an herbalist.”

  The dragon chuckled slightly, puffs of smoke escaping from its mouth in the process.

  “Words. Empty words, magic user. Forgive me if I do not trust the words of a wysard – it was one of your kind that lay in wait for me this evening. I was returning from the hunt, having eaten my fill of wild deer, when I was suddenly struck from below with were-fire. I was unprepared for such an attack this far out in the wilderness. One of my wings was badly hit, but my attacker did not think I would see him. His last vision was my rage, which quickly engulfed him.”

  Callen shuddered at the thought of an angry dragon and what it – she – might do. “Where is he now?”

  The dragon’s mouth parted in a toothy smile and the golden eyes narrowed. “His ashes were scattered on the night wind; he will not attack one of my kind again.”

  Obviously strained by the effort of talking, the dragon’s head wavered and the heavy lidded eyes closed.

  At first Callen was terrified the dragon had just died, but then she realized the beast was still breathing. She knew then that she must help the young dragon. Her conscience could not bear the thought of letting any creature suffer. Gathering her cloak about her, she ran back to the cottage and burst through the front door.

  “Callen!”

  She skidded to a halt, her blood turning to ice in her veins at the sound of her father’s voice. In the excitement, she had forgotten about him. He would be furious with her!

  “Yes… Papa?”

  “Where have you been?! Where’s the wood? How many times have I told you not to dawdle, girl?”

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” Callen stammered.

  “SILENCE! Don’t talk back to me, girl! What was that racket outside? It sounded like something crashed in the forest.”

  “It… it was nothing, Papa…”

  “Don’t lie to me, Callen; I know what I heard – now tell me, what was that noise? Lie to me again and I’ll use the curse of tongues to wheedle it out of you!”

  Hot tears streamed down Callen’s face as anger welled up inside her. Once when she was little she had accidentally broken a small vase that belonged to her father. She had been terrified at the thought of his anger and had cleaned up the pieces and pretended as if nothing happened. Her father hadn’t believed her however, and used a spell, the curse of tongues on her. It compelled her to tell every secret that dwelled in her heart, no matter how small and insignificant. Not only had he beaten her for breaking the vase, but afterward he had mocked her about some of the secrets she had spilled.

  “Well?”

  Ashamed and angry, Callen told him about the noise and the fire in the sky, and how she saw the dragon crash in the woods.

  “WHAT? You must alert the Council immediately! Do you know how much they will pay me for the capture of such a murderous beast?”

  “Papa, NO!” cried Callen in dismay. “We mustn’t! They will send wizards to kill her!”

  “Her? How do you know it is female? You didn’t speak with it did you? I forbid you to speak with dragon-filth, young lady! Now, you will contact the Council immediately and tell them how I brought the beast down.”

  The thought of an execution team being sent to kill and dissect the creature was the final straw for Callen. She stormed from the room, grabbing her bag of herbs and potions as she went.

  “Callen!”

  Her father’s angry shouts continued but she ignored them, slamming the front door behind her as she ran back outside into the snow.

  ***

  The dragon had not moved from where Callen had found her, and she appeared to be in a deep slumber, though her breathing was still labored. Callen worked quickly, setting down her bag and mixing together various herbs into a thick, pungent paste. Muttering incantations under her breath, she imbued the poultice with every healing spell she knew. Carefully, she approached the dragon and began examining her wounds. Most of the burn marks appeared to be superficial, but there were two places near where the dragon’s massive wing joined its body that several of the scales had been blown away and the underlying flesh singed. Callen focused on these areas, applying the thick mixture of he
rbs and layering each with more incantations. She labored for over an hour in the moonlight, until her fingers were numb from the cold and she could no longer feel her legs. She finally stopped and noticed that the dragon’s breathing was no longer harsh and ragged, but was now coming in long, deep breaths. She smiled despite her exhaustion, knowing her incantations and poultices had eased the creature’s pain and had carried it into a deep, healing slumber. Callen spent the next ten minutes pacing in ever growing circles around the creature, layering protective wards and concealments that would prevent anyone from disturbing her patient. Her task finally complete, she staggered through the back door of the cottage and collapsed in the kitchen next to the embers of her cooking fire.

  ***

  Over the next several days, Callen’s life fell into a routine; mornings consisted of enduring her father’s relentless tirade of criticism and demanding she obey him and turn the dragon over to an execution squad from the Council. Callen would not bend, however, for she believed her father was wrong – the dragon had been the one attacked, not a wizard. She steadfastly refused to see an innocent creature harmed at the hands of the same spellcasters that looked down their noses at her.

  She knew her father was too sick to leave the cottage or try to contact the Council himself; she could not even remember the last time he had left his chair in the corner. Since the onset of the sickness several years ago, he had surrounded himself with darkness by weaving a thick web of impenetrable shadows around his chair. Callen could barely make out his dark form and he scolded her cruelly when she tried to get too close.

  After arguing with her father again after dinner, Callen spent the next hour crying as she busied herself in the kitchen preparing a large basket of food for the dragon. The guilt of disobeying her father was almost more than she could bear, but she felt she had a duty to nurse the dragon back to health. The creature had slept for the first two days, and did not seem to notice when Callen replaced the poultices on her wounds. Callen dried her eyes and picked up the large basket which was almost too heavy to carry, laden as it was with two large hams and a shoulder of mutton that had been curing in the pantry.

  Struggling through the snow with nothing but the moonlight to guide her, Callen made her way through the forest behind the cottage, passing through the protective wards she had cast. Treading carefully so as not to trip over the brambles, she did not notice the pair of bright golden eyes that watched her approach.

  “I would know your name, human,” came a deep, throaty voice.

  Callen stumbled and dropped the basket she was carrying, as she looked up and saw the dragon had obviously been up and moving about and was now facing her. The creature was sitting upright and had its tail curled tightly around its body, like some giant, scaly housecat. Tendrils of smoke curled upwards from its nostrils, and it gazed intently at Callen as if trying to see through to her soul.

  “I… I, um, that is… Callen, my name is Callen,” came the stammered response.

  “I see,” said the dragon without moving. “It would seem I am in your debt, young Cal’len.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The dragon actually seemed to smile and her eyes softened as she lowered herself to the ground and crossed her forelegs in front of her. Her giant black head still towered several feet above Callen’s, but she seemed somewhat less threatening from this position.

  “I was near death when you found me, little one. Had you not intervened, I would have passed from this realm. Now my question – why?”

  Callen shuffled and looked up into the great golden eyes of the dragon. “I could not harm a creature as majestic as you, great dragon,” she said in a quiet voice. “I am not like the wizard who attacked you – I strive to cherish and protect the living, not attack them.”

  Callen’s answer seemed to please the dragon, who nodded her approval.

  “If I may ask, dragon, do you have a name?”

  “The wysards I have battled named me ‘Darkfire’ for the color of my flame; you may use this name if you wish. My true name shall remain unspoken for now, until my sire deems it otherwise.”

  “Your sire?”

  Darkfire looked up into the night sky before speaking, and then returned her gaze to Callen. “Yes, Cal’len, my sire. Thanks to your efforts, my wing is well enough for travel and I must return to the mountains to heal.” As she spoke, Darkfire rose and stretched her wings, testing their movement before furling them again against the blue-black scales of her back. She bent down and sniffed at the contents of Callen’s basket, which had spilled out on the ground, and in a single gulp snapped up the meat, running her long, snake-like tongue along her snout when she finished. “I am grateful for your aide, Cal’len, but it is time for me to leave; my sire will be here soon.”

  Callen’s eyes grew wide with fear – another dragon? If Darkfire was the child, her sire would be enourmous, not to mention incredibly angry with wizards who had attacked his daughter!

  “Wait! You mean he’s coming here??” she cried, her voice trembling.

  Darkfire did not pause but continued to walk out of the forest, Callen running to keep up. When the dragon reached the side of Callen’s house, she stopped and settled to the ground, wrapping her giant spiked tail around her.

  “Yes, little one, my sire insisted on coming to escort me home, lest some foolish wysard try to kill me again. In my weakened state I would make too tempting a target.”

  “But he can’t come here – Papa will be furious with me!”

  Darkfire shook her head and looked down at Callen. “You have nothing to fear, little Cal’len. My sire is powerful, yes, but he is also very wise – the wisest of our race.”

  A distant roar interrupted Callen’s next thought and she looked up and saw the full moon eclipsed by an enormous black dragon, at least five times the size of Darkfire. The creature circled once and then with a great forward flap of its wings, settled to the ground in front of the smaller dragon, stirring up clouds of snow. Fear chilled Callen to the bone as she took in the majestic beast before her. The creature’s hide was so black it seemed to absorb the very moonlight around it, which made the fiery gold eyes that much fiercer. Its head, easily as large as her cottage, turned and fixed her with a malevolent stare, smoke curling from its nostrils. As the beast narrowed its eyes and fixed her with its gaze, her resolve crumbled and with a squeak like a terrified mouse, she dove behind the protective bulk of Darkfire.

  ***

  Seba’an towered above Callen’s cottage. The giant black dragon furled his wings close to his sides and bent down until his head was level with Darkfire, who had remained curled up by the cottage like some giant housecat.

  “You are all right, little one?” He intoned gently, with a deep, resonating voice that sounded as if it could cause mountains to crumble.

  “Yes, Father, thanks to this human girl,” she said, raising her head to nuzzle her father. “My wing is healing nicely and I should be able to travel now.”

  Seba’an turned to look at Callen again, who still cowered behind Darkfire.

  “Come out, youngling; I will not harm you.”

  Callen crept out from behind the smaller dragon and nervously brushed the hair out of her eyes and smoothed her robes.

  “Do you know who I am, youngling?”

  Callen stared up at Seba’an and visibly blanched. “I… I’m not certain, great dragon,” she gulped. “I assume you are the sire of Darkfire, yes?”

  Seba’an chuckled from deep within, the sound shaking the ground under Callen’s feet.

  “Yes, little one, I am the sire of Darkfire, although her proper name is Dahk’ra. Do not use the trivial human nicknames for our kind in my presence, for I am also the Alderdrache – the elder dragon, or leader of our race.”

  Callen fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. “PLEASE, great dragon, I beg of you! I have tried to help Dark… I mean Dahk’ra. My father was furious, but I could not harm one as majestic as she.”


  Seba’an snorted, sending out a jet of sulfurous flame and smoke.

  “And where is your sire, youngling?”

  “He is inside, great Alderdrache; he is not well and sits in a corner of the cottage near the fire. He is furious with me for disobeying him; he wanted me to contact the Council but I refused, for I know they would have killed her or forced her into servitude.”

  Seba’an nodded at Callen. “It was a wise choice you made, human. My wrath would be a terrible thing to behold had you harmed her or delivered her up to the council of wysards.”

  The great dragon turned and lowered his head until it was level with the window of the cottage. His great golden eye loomed larger than the window as he examined Callen’s home.

  “I would know your name, youngling,” said Seba’an as he turned back towards Callen.

  “C-C-Callen, great dragon. My n-n-name is Callen.”

  “You fear your sire, do you not, young Cal’len?”

  Callen could not meet the Alderdrache’s gaze. She shuffled nervously and stared at her feet, tears streaming almost uncontrollably down her face now. “Papa doesn’t mean to hurt me, great dragon, I’m sure of it. It’s just that I’ve been such a disappointment to him. He wanted me to study the more powerful magics like he had; he did not approve of my choice to learn about herbs and potions.”

  “Basing one’s value upon the approval of others can poison the soul, little one,” Seba’an said in a disapproving tone. “I believe I may assist in freeing you from your father’s cruelty, however.”

  Callen looked up at Seba’an through tear-filled eyes. “What do you m-m-mean, Alderdrache?”

  The dragon curled his great neck around and scratched it with his giant talons. Sparks showered down around Callen, who jumped back to avoid them. Seba’an knocked a loose scale from his hide and pushed it towards Callen with one of his claws.

  “Take this scale, young one, and place it in your father’s lap. It should do much to ease his temperament.”

  “But, I don’t understand…”

  “You will, little Cal’len. A dragon’s scale has many uses because of our magical nature. We are the oldest of races and magic permeates our being. Properly prepared a dragon’s scale can heal most wounds, and its mere presence will ward off and even break most curses. Go now – place it at the feet of your sire and see if he does not respond. This is my thanks to you for the kindness shown to my daughter.”