The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

Something powerful grabbed my arm and started dragging me though the portal as the doorway closed shut like a clap of thunder. Gruff hands rolled me over and pushed on the bloody patch on my armor.

I screamed so loud my voice began to crack.

“See, yer alive,” a strong voice said, “…for the moment. Now let’s get you patched up, restored to full health, so your father can be guilt free before he kills ya.”

“Thanks, Brenwar,” I groaned, “you always know what to say to make me feel better.”

“Har!” He reached down and grabbed both my hands. “Up you go!” He almost jerked my arms from the sockets as he ripped me up from the floor. I looked down at Brenwar with a frown as big as his, glowering in pain. My dwarven friend was as big and stout as a sand-filled barrel, raven bearded, and armored in heavy metals from his chin to his toes. You’d think he’d sound like a wagonload of scrap metal when he walked, but all I heard as I followed was the sound of well-oiled leather rubbing together. I followed him up a cavernous stairwell designed for monsters, not men, spiraling upward without end. I knew where I was but wasn’t certain where Brenwar was going.

“In here,” he said, stopping at an opening I swore hadn’t been there a moment ago and shoving me inside. “Wait.” His booted feet stomped up the stairs, echoing then fading away.

I was in an alcove where a lone torch hung, its orange light offering warm illumination to the scenes of many dragon murals painted across all the walls. I gasped as one of the images of a painting came to life. A female dragon, tall as me, slender and batting her eyes, walked over, her tail tickling my chin. I knew she was a female because her belly scales were lighter than the others. Male dragons tend to be darker. But if you truly know dragons, as I do, the eyes were a dead giveaway. The females have lashes on their lids, nothing too pronounced but noticeable all the same.

Her scales, copperish and pink, reflected the most beautiful colors, and her comely face offered a smile. In her hands was a vial, the same as the one I had drunk from days before, which she tilted to my lips. I gulped it down, fell onto a pillow big enough for a cow, and let the magical mending begin.

I burned, inside and out, with satisfaction. My weary bones were revitalized. My innards—dormant, agonized, and bleeding—now regenerated. My vitality was back. My aching feet were no longer sore. I felt as strong as a horse as I tore off my armor, stretched out my mighty frame on the pillow, and shouted at the top of my lungs with glee.

I swear the lady dragon giggled before she pecked me on my head.

“Thank you,” I said, combing my hair from my eyes. The dragoness was beautiful, her features soft behind her armor and razor-sharp claws. After all, beautiful things have to defend themselves. I waved as I watched her disappear back into the mural among her kind, a queen defending in a glorious battle of dragons charging across the sun-glazed sky.

“Ah!” I elated.

I fell back on the pillow, wanting to sleep, as my mind told me I needed rest, but my body was ready to go.

“A bath perhaps,” I said to myself, getting up, grabbing my gear and sword.

A gruff voice disagreed. “You can have your bath later, Nat—”

I glared at Brenwar.

“Er, I mean, Dragon. Your father waits.” The husky dwarf walked over and took Fang from my hands. “I’ll take that.”

I held my head in my hand. I could leave now if I wanted. I was healed and all the better for it. My father, he wouldn’t come after me. He never did. He threatened to chase me down but usually just sent Brenwar instead, who was slow. A team of galloping horses wouldn’t make him fast.

“So be it,” I said in resignation. Up through the Mountain of Doom I followed, one heavy step at a time, the revitalized feeling in my organs replaced with a queasy feeling. My energy, endless one moment ago, was now gone. Oh, I was fine, my health fully operational, but that didn’t do much good in the presence of an angry father who I had been reluctant to listen to for quite some time. When we stopped in front of a massive set of doors that stood almost five stories tall, Brenwar looked up at me with a hard look in his eyes and said, “I told him you needed bathed, but he insisted that you come now." He reached up and patted me on my lower back. “I’ll see to it you’re bathed before the funeral. It’s been an honor knowing you, Dragon.” With that, Brenwar, my only true friend in the entire mountain, pushed the door open far enough for me to squeeze through, and like a fat rat out of a metal can, he scurried away.

And there I stood, at the threshold of all thresholds, looking back over my shoulder for escape but finding none. If I had had some dragon scales by now, things would probably be all right, but I didn’t. With great hesitation and a trembling heart, I stepped inside.

CHAPTER 4

Imagine the throne rooms of the greatest kings in the world combined and all their wealth lying at their feet. That’s nothing compared to my father’s throne room, and those kings are nothing compared to my father. There he sat on his golden throne, treasure covering the floor as far as eye could see, glimmering and twinkling in the light of the lanterns. Like a man he sat, more than three stories tall, monstrous wings folded behind his back, dragon head resting in the palm of his clawed hand, eyes closed. There had never been a king that big.

I pushed the door closed with a loud
wump
, stirring the golden coins that slipped from their pile toward the floor. To my relief, my father, a heavy sleeper, did not stir, yet my heart pounded in my chest. I supposed that it should be pounding in my chest, but I had figured that feeling, that nervous feeling you get as you tread into the unknown, would fade away with age. It hadn't. I pushed the hair back from my eyes and proceeded forward.

My father, the largest living thing in the world so far as I knew, was scaled in red mostly, a brick red, with trims of gold along his armored belly, wings, and claws. His taloned toe alone was almost as big as me, and I was big, for a man anyway.

“Come closer,” he said from the side of his mouth. The power of his voice sent tremors through the room, upsetting more piles of precious metals and jewels.

I kept going, taking my time, having no desire to begin the conversation but very eager to end it. I stopped a good fifty feet away, craning my neck upward, trying to find the first word to say. My tongue was thick in my mouth, and I thought of all the brave deeds I had done, but it all seemed so minute before my father.

He snorted the air, opened his dragon’s maw, and said, “You smell dirty. Like an orc.”

That bothered me. He always had to say something that bothered me.

“It’s good to see you too, Father,” I shouted back, my words barely a gerbil's compared to his. And I was loud, loud as an ogre when I wanted to be.

One eye popped open, brown like a man’s but flecked in gold and glaring. The other eye opened as well, the same as the first, its intent no less hostile. My father leaned back on his throne, long, powerful neck stretching between the massive marble pillars behind him, which held the ceiling. He was glorious and powerful; his mere presence began to charge my blood. I was proud to have a father like that, but I hadn't told him so in a long time.

“Ah … the fear in your sweat is gone already, I see, and replaced by your spiteful tongue,” he said, moving very little, poised rather, pleasant, as if he was being served dinner. “Still, it is good to see you, Son, as always.”

That part got to me a little, but only because I knew he meant it. The way he said it was the truth. Everything he said was true, I knew, whether I wanted to agree to it or not. My father, which is what I called him, because his real name would take the better part of the day to say, had a voice of a most peculiar quality. Powerful and beautiful like a crashing waterfall. Wise and deep with all the wisdom in the world combined. Soothing and uplifting. But my proud ears had gotten accustomed to it over the years.

“Yes, well, Father, it’s good to see you, too. There’s nothing quite like taking a long journey home. Scraping and clawing for your life, bleeding out your last drop,” I laid it on thick, “gasping for your last breath, only to be saved at the last moment of life, healed, only to be jostled and dragged here without a moment's rest.” I began pacing back and forth, hands on hips, throwing my neck back. “And you complain, of all things, that I have not had a bath.”

Ever seen a dragon smile, one with a mouthful of teeth as long as you? That’s what I was seeing now, and it bothered me.

“Well, you know how I feel about those foul creatures, and I was excited to see you, smelling like orc's blood or not, and it’s been so long, several weeks at least,” my father said.

Now my father was being ridiculous. Dragons are never in a hurry to do anything. It takes them a minute just to blink. They aren't slow by any means or measure, no matter how big they are, but they take their good time doing anything. Hours are minutes to them, if even that long.

I plopped down on a huge stack of gemstones, inspecting a few before tossing them away.

“Father, it’s been almost a decade,” I said, agitated. “Have you even moved since the last time I was here?”

“Certainly, Son, I've moved quite a bit since you’ve been here.”

“I see.” He never moved except when it was time to feed, which wasn’t very often. He hadn’t moved since I was a boy, either. “Father, what would you know of me?” I had to push things, be impolite; it was the only way to make this conversation go quicker.

“I see things as well, Nath …”

“No, don’t!” I yelled, but it was too late. He began pronouncing my full name, which is as long as a river, syllable after syllable, ancient, poetic, and powerful. I listened, minute after minute, mesmerized, my aggravation beginning to subside. My name was a beautiful thing: prosperous and invigorating.

“… nan,” he finished, over an hour later. “Have you gained any scales?”

There it was. The dreaded question about my scales. Here I was, a son of the greatest dragon but without a single scale. Despite all the right I had done, it seemed I’d done my own fair share of wrong as well.

“No!”

My father snorted. I saw a look of disappointment in his eyes, and I felt disappointed as well. I’d failed. Despite all my great deeds in the lands of Nalzambor, I was not living up to expectations.

He sighed, and it seemed such a terrible thing.

“How long, Son?”

I kicked at the piles of treasure.

“Two hundred years.”

Like a man, my father reached up and grabbed his skull with his four-fingered hands. I knew what was coming next.

“Son, the first hundred years of your life were the most wonderful of mine. You did everything I said. You listened. You learned. You grew. And when you became old enough, I let you choose. Stay in the mountain and continue to grow or risk losing everything you are just to see the rest of the world.” He shook his head. “I never should have given you that choice.”

“I wanted to see things for myself. It was my right. You told me I needed to understand the world of men,” I argued.

“Yes, I did. But I told you not to get too close. Don’t get caught up in their ways. You are not one of them. You are one of us.”

“How can I be sure? I still look like a man. I talk like a man.”

He stopped me, head leering over at me, his eyes showing a glimmer of the infernos within.

“True, Son, but I warned you not to
act
like a man. I showed you what dragons do, how they act, how they respond.”

I rose to my feet and resumed my pacing through the hoard, coins jingling beneath my feet.

“Maybe I don’t want to devour herds of sheep and goats like a beast. I like my food cooked and making use of knives and forks. It’s civilized. Unlike the dragons that pillage the flocks.”

Father said, “The herds are for feeding, man and dragon alike. Forgive me for forgetting to use my knife.” He waggled a talon at me. “If you had your scales, you’d understand, Son. You are meant to be a good dragon, the same as me.”

I wanted to please my father. I really did. But, as the years passed and the hairs on my skin became more coarse, I had an aching doubt that I was ever going to become a dragon. There were many things that I could do that men could not. Living long was one of them, but I never felt sure.

“Father, how can I know that I am a dragon? If I was a dragon, certainly I’d have scales by now. The others do.”

“Son, you are not like the others. You are like me. As I’ve explained, there are dragons like the rest, and there are dragons like us. I am the keeper of this world, a protector of men as well as the dragons. But I won’t live forever, and who will protect them when I’m gone? It has to be you.”

Me.
Yes, I knew it was supposed to be me. Deep down in my heart, I knew it was true. But one would think I’d have a sister or brother to share the responsibility. I continued to pout.

“What about my mother? Will you ever reveal her to me?”

“Oh, stop. You were hatched from an egg.”

“I was not hatched from an egg like a goose!” I yelled. It infuriated me, him saying that. I knew I had a mother, and I suspected she was mortal, but my father, truthful and wise, had been holding something back all along. And it infuriated me that I did not know.

“More like a little crocodile,” he said, joking. “You had scales when you were born, we… er, I was so proud. But after a few years, they fell away.” His voice saddened. “And that’s when I knew.”

He had slipped! There was indeed a mother; I was certain of it. But I could not remember her face or anything of her at all. Was she a dragon or a mortal?

“Knew what?” I asked, even though I had already heard the answer before.

His voice was heavy as he said, “That you would be the child that replaced me. That the responsibility was yours, whether you liked it or not. As I did not have a choice, Son, neither have you. There is only one great dragon in the world, and if it isn’t me, it must be you. Without us, the world is doomed.”

That was it: the ship's anchor strapped onto my back. The burden of an impossible responsibility that weighed me down to my knees.
I didn’t ask for this.