Daniel defends the town of St. Caron from unexpected visitors, large black dragon
St. Caron's Dragon
By Nix Winter
Word Count: 5300
Daniel’s eyes snapped open. Looking up from the water pump he was trying to figure out how to fix, he dropped into the feeling of 'other' and listened. Seductive, sweet as drawing breath, but a breath into a part of his soul that slept most of the time. Dizzy, he listened to the call of his demon living in the stone lodged in his heart. Someone, something, was coming. Slower, his fingers continued to fiddle with the pump. Dawn would bring an irate Margarite if the water wasn't flowing.
The whole contraption to pump the water up from the well and straight into the kitchen had been his doing. This was a fact that the owner of the Styx & Stox would remind him at the top of her lungs if it wasn't working. Neither she nor her daughter Marg were likely to be wanting to haul water in, so he knew, at the very least, he’d be hauling water till the end of lunch if he didn’t get this demonic pump fixed. It was a very bad time for the magic to be calling him. He blew air into his cheeks and bargained internally with the demon. If this new belt worked, he’d have the thing working, then he could answer the demon's call.
So he sat there, ignoring the tightening in his chest, the little tingles and itches touching down over his bare shoulders and arms like the tip of a tornado. It would get worse, but if the stone knew he’d follow where it wanted to go, it’d give him time. Besides, if the army laying siege to the west of St. Caron’s walls were going to attack now, he’d really better have the water fixed before he fought them. If he had to go dark on them, let his demon out, he might be sleeping for days afterwards. With his longish, slightly grimy thumbnail, he shoved the new belt into place. Wherever he slept off his dark, he promised himself he’d do it away from Nat, away from where Nat could spend drops of his own life to heal St. Caron’s dragon.
About the time his chest was really beginning to hurt, the little solar powered pump he’d salvaged came back to life, running on batteries that had charged during the day. He shut it down, so it would have enough battery when Margarite woke up the kitchen. Standing, he rolled his shoulders, shaking the long red braid that hung down his back. Nat said he had purple, dark sapphire and plum, eyes when he was in the dragon form, just like his first form. Nat didn't like the dragon form, feared it, but not enough to shut the connection between them.
Moonless not yet dawn left him a shadow in shadows as he went over the courtyard wall and into the town, following where his demon heart lead. He might have looked the part of the demon; he really didn’t care. His black pants, soft leather, not the least bit shiny and like a second skin over legs that carried him silently through town, fast and agile. Barefooted, he made not the slightest sound moving from roof to wall, then back to road. The shirt that Margarite had finally gotten him to wear was of the softest cotton and flowed over his shoulders, his arms, hiding scars, hiding marks he’d gotten in Sonrun, and even the mark of demon wings that sometimes showed on his muscular back. Jefz had made him wrist guards of a black metal cut into strips and woven together with more black leather. His face which was pale, never tanned more than a shade or two, but didn’t burn either, was covered by a layer of dirt he hadn’t gotten around to washing off for the day. The brightest color about him, almost the only betrayal of his passing was his braid, flashing apple red when he passed too near the light of someone’s window. The tip of it swung past his braided wool belt, but seemed to move with him rather than against him, keeping time with his silent rhythm as he sought what had disturbed his demon.
Midway across town, he went from the roof of the court house to the rope ladder he’d strung from the back of the old mayor’s house. The building was the tallest building in St. Caron and no one lived there now, both on account of the demon who’d killed the former mayor and his adult daughter, leaving a clear message that the mayor’s wealth should be distributed among the people of St. Caron, and because it was the tallest building in town. The siege army outside the wall occasionally got platforms built high enough to lob flaming things into the town. This building being the tallest made the nicest target.
Daniel was really quite amazed at the ingenuity of the people laying siege. They’d done four different kinds of platforms and two catapults. Only once had he gone dark on them, and he’d really been surprised when he’d woken in Nat’s arms, more gray in his lover’s hair, a full week gone by, and the siege party was still sitting out there. Ingenuity they had, sense, maybe not. Up on the top of the mayor’s house, in the little square space surrounding the pyramid of smoky glass that he thought maybe had been made to let more sunlight into the house, he picked up the case with the biknowclears. He left these treasures up here because he was pretty much the only person in town who could get them, this was where he’d use them, and if the fools outside the wall were going to be able to damage them, his demon would likely tell him about the threat first.
He wiped his eyes off on his sleeve before putting the heavy black things to his face. No point in getting dirt on them if he didn’t need to. Looking through their lengths, he could see far out into the camp outside the wall. No fires, no movement, they were asleep, as well they ought to be. No one in St. Caron had made any attempt to harm them, not counting the time Daniel had gone dark on them. Margarite figured they’d either run out of food, or start expanding the city. Either way they were more annoying than harmful, but Daniel knew they could be dangerous. Nat refused to give an opinion on them, these fools. Daniel was pretty sure they hadn't woke his demon.
So he moved around to the other side of the little platform and looked out into the harbor. The tension in his heart turned to black fire joy that he didn’t understand at all. A Sonrun ship had let down anchor, just outside the harbor. The men on the deck dressed like islanders, not soldiers, and he counted at least four women, dressed in very little more than laughter and joy. He grimaced. With expert fingers he turned the dials that zoomed the ship closer in his biknowclears. The demon in him was happy to see this ship, and the man was always happy not to go dark. Maybe they were friends, these people. Maybe they were friends with pop brought from Sonrun. Daniel smiled broadly, red eyebrows drawing down in his longing grin, and continued to survey people moving around on the ship. About the only thing he missed form Sonrun was pop, strawberry pop.
He sent out a tender ribbon of energy to his lover, a whisper for his attention. He wouldn’t need to go dark, it seemed, so there was no reason not to wake Nathaniel. His lover was also from Sonrun and would be happy to have supplies from there as much as Daniel would be. //Nat, wake?// Daniel thought to him
To Daniel, the sound of Nat’s voice tinted his thoughts. Often there was a slight pause he’d take before replying, usually turn a page or mark his place with a finger. The pause was longer if he had to wake Nat from sleep. Even Daniel’s demon purred happily when at the thought of his dark haired lover, of the tenderness he’d learned from the librarian. //I love you,// he whispered across their telepathic connection, urging Nat out of a dream that Daniel could only catch the slightest hints of, //There is a ship anchored just outside the harbor. The demon brought me to see it. It’s from Sonrun, I’m sure, but I don’t think they’re still loyal to Sonrun. The name of the ship has been repainted The Decrier. Nat, you wanna tell me about that dream, uh?// Telepathic teasing was still fun.
//Not at the moment, Daniel,// came the sleepy reply. Through their connection, Daniel felt the warmth and respect, a wash of love that wrapped around him and made not even the demon in him make him feel dark. In some moments, the demon could feel almost human, alien still, but not dark.
Daniel didn’t need to communicate why he had found the ship. Nathaniel heard volumes of unsaid meaning in overlay of demon on Daniel's mental voice. Reaching for his glasses, he slipped out of their bed, knocked over a stack of precious books and muttered a particularly Sonrun flavored curse. Daniel snickered back through their link. //I will come. At the harbor?//
//Yeah, Nat. There’s this white haired guy. He’s standing at the edge of the railing and some woman is putting flowers over his head. You feel that feeling my demon’s giving me? This guy don’t look real old or anything, but I think the demon knows him.//
Nathaniel squinted as his eyes adjusted to the slowly dawning morning light and reached for his trousers, which were hanging neatly from a rack that could spin without a sound. It was another of Daniel's creations.
//I feel it,// he replied, wishing the uneasiness he felt wasn’t going to filter through to Daniel. They had meet only hours after Daniel had absorbed the stone that the ex-mayor’s daughter had been willing to sacrifice human life to get. The bond between Nathaniel and Daniel had formed soon after, so the former librarian had felt almost everything that Daniel had ever felt from his stone. He’d felt every time Daniel’s body healed rapidly, sharing even if only in part of the pain that accompanied it. The first time Daniel had taken his dark form, Nathaniel had lost control of his own body and lost the contents of his stomach, every time there was content, for days afterwards, until he’d found Daniel’s comatose body. He'd found a way to bring the red head’s energy level back to a living level, at the cost of his own vitality. This feeling that Daniel shared now, joy and recognition, Nathaniel did the first button of his last shirt he’d brought out of Sonrun, this new feeling, he understood it. //Daniel, it’s another with a stone. There were supposed to be five. Be cautious.//
Daniel adjusted his biknowclears, zooming in a little closer to the white haired man. Boy? //Nat,// Daniel paused, really listening to his own feelings, slightly disconcerted that his lover could understand what he was feeling better than he could himself. //You’re right, but this one, this little white haired guy, he’s not why the stone called me here, not all of it anyway. There's something dark here too.//
Nathaniel only knew little bits of story, things he’d read in the great library of Sonrun, before his exile. Daniel didn’t really think there were five of these demons. Stones didn’t think and complain the way the thing inside him did. Stones did not give one a dark side like this did. It was a demon and he didn’t figure there was anyone better for it than him. Nat might not think so, but Daniel knew he was dark and destroyed before the librarian had saved him, despite being saved.
Then the white haired guy dove off the side of the ship and into the sea. He arched his body and dove like he’d been doing it all his life. Daniel grinned when he felt the flash of jealousy from Nathaniel. //Just looking, Nat, really. You still want me all to yourself?//
//Always,// Nathaniel purred, warmth and pleasure echoing. //All to myself. Dan….// The thought ended abruptly as Nathaniel’s own magic talent gave him one of its rare appearances. It had been fitting perhaps that the great city of Sonrun's chief librarian had been a born Oracle. //Out of the water. Get him out of the water NOW!//
Daniel set his precious biknowclears down in their case, giving his energy just a couple of breaths to build. The distance between himself and the snow headed guy was too great to cross quickly as a man, even if he’d been on the docks and not at the far edge of the harbor. He jumped and balanced barefooted on the railing for another breath then let himself fall forward, trusting the demon within his body.
His mind darkened, filling with a black fire like flame seen through a filling crystal wine glass. At the very edge he felt Nathaniel’s distress, felt some other message that the exiled librarian wanted him to know, but he couldn’t process such information in this form. Huge black wings reached out to either side pressing air down and back. He crossed the little town of St. Caron in two beats of his wings, then dove towards the water.
Flashes of light came from the ship. He ignored those. The mission in his thoughts was getting the white haired man safe from the water. While his back feet had claws as long as a horse's leg and possessed enough strength to rip one of St. Caron’s wooden clipper style ships into shreds, his fore legs ended in smaller feet, not with hands really, but with long strong toes that could easily and safely grip a man. The main defenses to this form were his back legs, the claws on his wings, the fire he’d actually only breathed once, but in that case, once was enough.
Diving towards where the white haired man was now trying to dive into hiding, more flashes of light from the ship crossed his path. One flared across his back and distantly, he heard Nathaniel howl from the pain. Even his dragon mind realized that would be bad later. He didn’t want to attack the ship though. They’d get the idea that he was protecting not harming eventually. Or he'd eat them. The darkness smiled.
As fast as the white haired man had gone under the water, he now came back up, blood across his face and an expression on his face like he’d seen a dragon for the first time. Erupting out of the water next came the biggest surprise of Daniel’s life. The white haired man actually grabbed onto his leg and started scrambling up like he was a big black tree. Daniel barely resisted the urge to try to shake him off. Then something else came out of the water.
Dragon flesh suddenly found it could shudder, wings grabbing the air and climbing fast up and away from the thing. It reached out with impossibly long arms, even as it propelled itself out of the sea. Light from the ship flashed again and knocked the thing to the side, sending a wave of water towards the docks. Some of Daniel’s human understanding might shrink in this form, but other aspects emerged. It gave him an understanding of how large this yellow long armed beast was and how much water would be displaced.
Mission on was the man he’d pulled from the water. Mission two was worrying about mortals on the docks. He couldn’t take the man to the dock, for fear the beast would follow him. So he moved back over the ship, wings beating slowly, his back to the yellow beast, hoping the man clinging to his leg would let go, drop to the deck. Burning acid hit his wings, undershot them and splashed several of the men on the ship who screamed and dropped. The man on his leg dropped as well, running to the nearest of the fallen soldiers.
Daniel rose and spun, trying not to cause too much wind with his wings, but another of the unprepared men still went over the side. A woman screamed and Daniel drew in breath, hoping fire would come when he exhaled. //UP!// Nathaniel screamed through their connection and Daniel beat his wings, up, pressing the air down against the deck of the ship. White light from the ship warmed the soles of his thick, scaly feet as he ascended. Seeing it clearer, from above, it looked like ten very fine streams of salt, glowing brightly. The beams hit the tentacled head of the beast, disrupting flesh, opening large acid reservoirs, splattering the sparkling fluid through the air with other fluids more the color of snot. Daniel climbed another couple beats of his wings, circling tightly, high enough to soar, tilting inward. Fascinated he watched the huge vile thing break apart as the beams slide down its body.
It stank like burned rubber, like vomit mixed with rhubarb. The splash all the little parts created was not quite enough to endanger the dock, as it fell in smaller parts. //Higher,// Nat whispered. The demon in him still listened to Nathaniel when Daniel was in his dark form, even if Daniel was usually filled more with a sense of invulnerability.
Grudgingly, Daniel obeyed. //Want ship,// he snarled. Eyes on the ship now, he realized that the gunner was aiming the light spitter at him. The little white haired man spoke animatedly to him, hands flashing from where Daniel circled to where bits of snot colored flesh floated on the water. A woman joined the conversation and Daniel had the distinct impression that the woman and Snow were flashing their hands around like they could communicate the ultimate spell that way. Brother against sister with? Sister’s boyfriend in between, Daniel smirked, laughing and sending little tendrils of smoke out his snout. The unspent fire welled up in his throat, and he lightly considered that at least one or two would taste good. Not Snow, or his sister, but one or two others?
//No,// Nathaniel commanded, an overlay of gentle promise of reward later.
More smoke slipped out Daniel's nose, curling back over his snout. Reward was better than barbecue.
The woman pointed at him and all he could think was that her eyes were really sharp to see those little puffs of smoke. Concern seeped through from Nathaniel and Daniel gave his attention to the dock, trying to pick out his lover from the crowd. Nathaniel strode forward onto the dock, his adopted son following along slowly behind as if no one would notice him if he slipped from ship's shadow to ship's shadow. This made Daniel laugh and suddenly there was a small spurt of flame coming from his nose, more building in his belly. He’d only had this form six times and only once had he been able to breath fire, but that one time had felt really good. Nathaniel was motioning for him to come back to the docks. The rising fire in him may have been cutting the connection between them and it drove him to need to release it. He beat his wings and rose even higher, until the ship looked like little fishing boat.
Still snickering, he sucked as much air in as he could and let it out like scratching an itch that had been out of reach for days. Fire lit up the pale dawn sky, engulfed a seagull he hadn’t seen till it was too late, and felt so damn fine he was hard put to not just suck another breath in. The gunner on the ship helped him out with that. That white light flashed across his tail and he couldn’t suck breath in for the howling that he couldn’t hold in! It was just a bit more grazing than when it had gone across his back, but it hurt ever so much more. Looking over the tip of his shoulder, the very pointed tip of his tail, such a powerful ball of sharp points was hanging at a very wrong angle and he howled again. In articulate dragon rage, Daniel howled again. He swished his tail, the tip still hanging limply, dripping bright red Daniel blood. He rounded on the boat, feeling the fire well up in his belly again. This time the seagulls were all out of the way.
The snow headed guy had sat down, crossed his legs, and started to sing, of all things. Daniel did not want to hurt Snow, but his tail hurt and anger was rapidly mixing with the fire. The woman standing next to the gunner dropped to her knees, then the gunner. People all over the ship stopped what they were doing and sat down. Daniel roared. He could still blast them for what they’d done, maybe not with fire though. Furious, he stretched out his wings and pushed the air towards the ship. One woman screamed grabbed onto the railing. Snow's song hit him then, peace, contentment, sweet, so sweet, stronger than he’d ever known, revealing to him the heart of the snow headed one. Sweetness and innocence, gentle love for everyone, Daniel’s rage collapsed as he reached out for that tenderness. Nathaniel joined in the wave of peace, his love for Daniel so deep and consuming. Healing peace lifted them all, the people on the docks, farther back into the town.
Peace and love mixed with the opening of his memories and he knew that this snow haired man knew him, in and out. Shock burned him more than the white light beams and he his next breath came out as a human murmur as a peace so thick he couldn’t resist it wrapped around him. Even Nathaniel’s urgent demands seemed only like sweet concern. There couldn’t be any harm. Falling through the air, floating in bliss on his way towards the ocean, he couldn't believe there'd be any harm.
<><><><><>zzZZzz<><><><><>
Simon’s eyes snapped open. The mind of the dragon had intrigued him, drawn him deeper and he’d found a thread of humanity under the rhythm of the magic, tugging on that, he’d found a young man, not much older than he was. Where the dragon had been in the sky, a figure tumbled, arms out, spinning through the air towards the water. Red hair whipped free around him, braid loosened and undone. Simon closed his eyes and tried to reach the mind again, to open the wave of peace, to restore rational thought.
Across the harbor, Simon recognized the other mind he’d meet in the wave, the dark haired one that loved the dragon. The man was peeling off his shirt, toeing off his shoes. He went into the water arms over his head, fast strokes across the water. Another couple people, a gray haired man and a skinny young girl followed Dragon’s mate into the water. After those, five or six other people went in and several small boats were in the water. These were good people. The dragon no more than pulled him out of the water before he could be killed by this other beast. Angry now, he spun on Sandra and Capt. Hershal. “He saved my life! He saved me! I told you not to fire at him!”
Grief, regret lined Sandra’s face, but her soon to be mate held her close. The dragon must have been very high up in the air, because he was only now looking like he was falling fast. Simon ran down from the gunnery deck, slipped on a bit of acid on the bottom stair, but scrambled back to his feet and to the railing he’d jumped from before.
“Simi!” Sandra called his name, but he ignored her and poised to go into the water. “Simi!”
Daniel hit the water on his back and went under so close to the ship that Simon could see his face, peaceful, eyes open, lips open as water covered him. Simon scrambled over the railing and went down into the water feet first, no grace, all desperation. The Heart Stone ached in his chest, magnifying his guilt and fear into an almost physical pain.
Guided by the stone, by its pull to its kin, Simon moved through the water, searching with his fingers, ignoring the burning in his lungs. His fingers brushed cloth and he spun in the water, dove in that direction. Next came flesh, limp and chilling flesh. Simon gripped the man’s arm, then got an arm around his chest and kicked for the surface, red hair trying to wrap around his arms and legs.
Moments later he broke the surface with a gasp. The dragon man lay against him, unbreathing and limp. Treading water, Simon compressed him against him, forcing water out of his lungs. It was hard to hold them both out of the water and compress and they both went under again. Even blocked from the waves a little by the bulk of the Decrier, it was an ocean not pool water.
He felt his sister’s hand grab his arm, then Capt. Hershal was there too, an arm around his waist, helping them tread water. Simon pushed red hair out of his mouth, away from his face and pulled the man close and compressed. Water gushed over pale lips. Sandi held the man’s head up, trying to find a pulse. “Again, Simi,” she said and he did, pushing more water out. She pressed forward, treading water herself and blew into the man’s mouth.
By this time, the first of the rowed boats was close enough that men were reaching out to pull the red head in. Two of those hand belonged to his mate and Simon pushed the still not breathing man towards him. Other hands helped to lift him from the water. Simon watched from the water as this man held his lover, rocking his limp body, complaining at him in the same language that Capt. Hershal spoke.
“Nathaniel,” one of the men said, trying to pull the red head from him, “We have to get the water out of him, get him on the blanket here.”
Nathaniel glared at the men trying to help, but released his hold. Simon moved closer to the boat, willing the red head to breathe with all his being. Breath came with a violence. The red head grabbed air with a snarl and the men near him scrambled back. The oddest violet eyes glared at them all, an animal like defense in them, in his posture.
Nathaniel held out his arms, speaking calm words in the same language he’d used before. Slowly, this animal like man, relaxed as he moved weakly towards the open arms. Across his bare back, lines drew out the image of his dragon wings. Right across those was a bloody scrape that Simon knew must have happened when the light weapon got too close to him. The long red hair coved most of him , hiding any other bruises or wounds. The two of them stared at each other in silence. Nathaniel combed red hair out of what Simon decided was a very beautiful face, heart shaped with smooth skin and smile lines, lips that even know were lifting into a smile.
“Daniel,” a dark skinned man with thick matted hair started, “Are you okay?”
Daniel leaned against Nathaniel’s chest and made motions with his fingers, curved, arching through seemingly familiar patterns. The men threw fists in the air, circling them around and a cheer went up on the dock. The young girl who’d jumped from the dock right after Nathaniel finally got to the boat and half pulled herself up. “You worried us! NO more being a dragon for you! What if you hadn’t been over water, Daniel! You could have gotten killed!”
The man who’d been a great black dragon only a few minutes before now looked sheepish, making more signs to the girl, tilting his head apologetically. Nathaniel kept his arms wrapped around him, and the girl finally smiled.
“I just would hate to see what Mama said if you weren’t around to fix all those things you’re always making,” Marg admonished.
“Is he deaf,” Simon asked, holding onto the edge of the boat, even though he wasn’t getting a very friendly reception from some of the men or from Nathaniel.
Nathaniel refused to explain that Daniel was mute, had been all the time that he’d known him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Simon of Masonil,” Simon said, smiling. “I’m on my journey to the Throne of the Five.”
Daniel sat up just a bit more, hooking a leg around Nathaniel’s ankle. “Nathaniel,” he said in a dry, unused voice.
Geof dropped his oar in the water, then hurriedly fished after it. Nathaniel leaned close, holding his breath, slender white librarian fingers reaching for Daniel’s lips. “Say that again.”
“Nathaniel,” Daniel whispered in a small voice, before swallowing and licking salty lips. “I want to go too.”
Nathaniel nodded, fingers still touching Daniel’s lips. “Then we will go to the Throne of the Five. We will go where ever you wish to go.”
Nearon, Geof’s older brother, looked Simon in the eyes and when he didn’t flinch from the glare, he nodded, “People from Sonrun are not welcome here.”
“The Decrier came from Sonrun, but they are now going where they will. It is only I that ask to go through your town,” Simon said. “I bare you no wish of harm.”
In the mean time, a boat from the Decrier had been lowered and some of Capt. Hershal’s men were helping him and Sandi out of the water.
“Simi, come with us,” Sandi called, leaning over to offer him her hand.
He dove under the water, crossing under all the floating monster parts to her ship and took her hand, but didn’t get into the boat. “I have my journey, Sand-kimi. Go put your feet in the sand of home. I’ll be there when I can come.”
“Simon Masonil! It’s not safe here. There are monsters and dragons! Come home till it’s safe.”
“There are many good people as well, little sister,” he said, pulling his fingers out of her grasp. “This man who is a dragon is like me. He bares a stone, maybe the Chaos Stone and he will go with me to the Throne of the Five. I will not be alone.”
Capt. Hershal put his arms around Sandi and gave a discreet motion for his men to row towards the ship. She only cried. Simon felt as if his heart might break. Until this moment, the crossing between home and journey had not been really cut. Now it was. He took a deep breath and slipped under the water again.
Back at the other ship, strong hands pulled him out of the water. Only then did he realize that his bag, with his journal and all his food was at the bottom of the harbor or in the rotting gut of the monster. “What was that thing?”
Both brothers began rowing.
“I was hoping you would tell me. Your ship fired on Daniel. Don’t think I will forget that,” Nathaniel said, no obvious menace in his voice, though it was there, like a deep ocean current.
//He’s a friend,// Daniel whispered telepathically. Out loud, he whispered, “Nathaniel.”
Simon watched them for another moment. Watched the one man holding the other, leaning close as if he weren't sure he'd heard what he heard. "Daniel?"
But the one who had been a dragon had fallen unconscious, sleeping off exhaustion. He would definitely not be alone on his journey, even if watching the two of them created a kind of envy in him. Alone or not alone, he was going on to the Throne of Five.
When John Gideon is transported to the extraordinary world of Illúmaril, he’ll soon discover that his entire existence has been leading up to the shocking destiny he’ll soon fulfill.
Second in The Chronicles of Illúmaril series, author Gary Caplan's The Return of the Ancient Ones is a distinct tale that illustrates how one's fiercest enemy can become one's most aggressive ally.
Winner 2012 NABE Pinnacle Book Award in Fan
A world of steam and springs. A breakneck race for power. Will one woman's defiance topple a kingdom? If you like feisty heroines, fearsome dragons, and fast-paced action, then you'll savor this steam-powered thrill-ride.
