The Dragon' Son (29 page)

“You shall die,” hissed the red dragon. He swiped his paw down toward Keegan’s throat, his deadly black claws gleaming in the moonlight.

Keegan landed on the hard wood floor with a thud, gasping as the wind was knocked from him. He struggled with his blanket for a moment then stopped and blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. The dark ceiling alone stared back at him. Faint streams of light snuck through the cracks of the shutters and streaked across the ceiling beams, lighting up a few cobwebs that danced silently with the little bit of air movement he must have created by fighting with his blanket.

Keegan sighed then sat up and placed his face in his quaking, sweaty hands. After a moment, he got up and gingerly limped to one of the windows and opened the shutter. He sat down on the sill to take the pressure off his aching ankle and breathed in the fresh, moist morning air while watching the soft morning light brush over the sleeping world. Dew on the treetops and on the grass began to glitter and sparkle as the light of the morning sun danced across them. The eastern sky glowed a soft pink as the stars slowly disappeared.

All was quiet until a single bird began singing sweetly to announce the new day. Then, gradually, other birds joined in, and the cool spring morning was filled with their happy songs and the fluttering of their wings as they began to flit about and greet each other, knocking the glittering diamond drops of dew from the treetops.

Keegan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The sweat from the nightmare began to dry, and the morning breeze began to cool him as well as relax his tight muscles. Turning away from the window, he limped over to his bed. He pulled his dagger out from under his goose feather pillow and placed it on the table next to a neatly folded pile of new clothes. He grabbed a new shirt from the pile and slipped it over his head, glad for the warmth and soft comfort it provided his moist skin. His black vest was on the back of the chair, and he grabbed it and put it on, as well.

A wine-colored tabard slipped from the corner of the table onto the floor, along with a new leather belt that landed on the floor with a
clunk
. Keegan picked them both up, folded the tabard neatly, rolled the belt up, and then placed them on the table. The King had given the tabard and belt to him for the banquet the night before, along with a pair of fine, black breaches, which he was still wearing.

Keegan smiled as he remembered Annaka making a quick comment about how striking he looked in the tabard, but she had wasted no time in pointing out how lovely her sister, Princess Erewhon, also looked.

Erewhon had worn a flowing white dress with a red bodice that was embroidered in gold, and it gave great credit to her lovely figure. Her golden hair had been pulled back and braided neatly around a crown, and a small chain had hung delicately around the ivory skin of her neck, dangling a snowflake gracefully against her chest. She walked and talked with grace and held her head and shoulders in confidence. Her smile and dancing green eyes lit up her entire countenance and made her glow with beauty.

When he was in her presence, he sometimes felt intimidated, but usually he felt empowered, breathless, and weak all at the same time. At other times, especially the times when she would look him in the eyes, he felt a strange sort of terror wash over him. He didn’t understand any of it, and it only made him want to run away and hide. But at the same time, he refused the thought of separating himself from her presence when he had the opportunity to be near her. The definition of confusion took on a whole new meaning when Erewhon was near. He could not understand or make any sense of it, nor did he really want to.

Keegan huffed and slipped on his boots then walked over to his door. He quietly opened it and stepped out, shutting it behind him as silently as he could. He hobbled to one of the windows of the corridor and sat down in the arch of it, leaning against its support. He looked down over the quiet garden and sighed as he fumbled with a loose string on his sleeve, trying to get his thoughts into order. As if his confusion over the Princess were not enough, his stupid dreams had to make it worse by including her. He paused, pulling at the loose string as he reflected back on his dream.

“Demitreah…” he echoed silently as he pulled up the picture of the gorgeous but demonic face of the tall woman with the name. He sighed uncomfortably as he fought the urge to shudder at her name. “Demitreah…who are you?”

He stopped when a familiar song reached his ears, hummed by a gentle voice in the garden below. He looked down into the garden. Picking flowers was a woman with long dark hair, and she was wearing a lavender dress. At first, she just hummed the slow lullaby. Then she opened her soft soprano voice and began to sing the words:

Once, we were a mighty nation

Our people came from strong foundation

Until cursed with darker days

A dragon red came from skies blue

Came and stole the things we once knew

Making us humble, unknown

But we were told one day of old

That we’d give our throne of ancient gold

To a prince and dragon slayer’s son

For us to regain the ancient throne

He will fight and bleed for our mountain home

This dragon prince of Bowen’s line

He will kill the drake that broke us

He will remove the Witch who cursed us

And become our King some glad day

So now we wait ever patiently

We wait for the one promised to make us free

We wait for this prince to come

Keegan slowly exhaled and leaned his head back on the stone support as the woman finished her song. The song, which he had almost forgotten about, had once been a Wovlen lullaby. He remembered that his mother and Alia would sometimes sing it together.

Keegan snorted as he thought about the prophecy. “If there is such a prince, and if he ever does come along, he’ll have his hands full,” he scoffed.

“Do you not believe that the prophecies of old will come to pass?” Keegan jumped, startled to hear another voice, and turned to face Walneff who looked at him inquiringly.

“Oh, Walneff. I did not expect you to be…well…” Keegan paused as he tried to figure out what he did not expect of the old man.

Walneff half chuckled. “Yes, I get the impression that many people do not expect me, but you, however, were listening very attentively to that song being sung in the garden below.” He walked up to the window next to Keegan and looked down at the garden. He had on a new gray robe, tied with a new leather belt, and his silky white hair was loosely braided behind him. His beard was cleaned and combed. His overall appearance seemed revived and fresh as Keegan stared at him.

Walneff rubbed his silver beard thoughtfully for a moment then turned to Keegan. “You have not answered my previous question,” he reminded Keegan.

Keegan sighed and looked down at the garden before shrugging his shoulders in reply. “Well, the prophecies, myths more like, have not come to past yet, and I don’t think they will come to pass any time soon.”

Walneff chortled heartily for a moment, as if terribly amused at something.

Keegan looked at the old man with confusion. “What? What did I say that was funny?”

Walneff looked at Keegan with a wiry grin spreading across his face. “And what, pray tell, makes you think that the prophecies won’t come to pass or that they are not even in the process of being fulfilled?”

Keegan looked back down at the garden and began to pull on the loose string of his sleeve again. “Because…well, they aren’t realistic. They are something that someone dreamed up, dreaming of a better world for the likes of…” Keegan huffed, “for the likes of me.”

Walneff was silent a moment, as if pondering Keegan’s final words. “So, you do not believe that the prophecies ever existed?” he finally asked.

“Well, obviously they existed, or else they would not be sung today,” Keegan said as he watched the dark haired woman below leave the garden with her basket of flowers. A brief thought wandered through his mind as to how she could have known a Wovlen lullaby. Where could she have learned it?

“Ah. So you just do not believe the prophecies to be true,” Walneff said, bringing Keegan’s wandering mind back into focus. “Prophecies foretold of the Dragon Forest one day becoming a haven for dragons… and it came to pass. Why should this prophecy of a prince not also come to pass?” Walneff asked, looking back at Keegan with one raised eyebrow.

Keegan stared at Walneff for a minute then looked out at the garden. “There is no reason, I suppose,” he said quietly. “Only, who would be great enough, who would be fool enough, to try to regroup a scattered people, slay a dragon, and remove a witch?” He looked at Walneff. “Who could do such an enormous task?”

Walneff smiled. “A
Valad Drakoan
could,” he answered softly, lowering his chin and looking at Keegan expectantly.

Walneff’s attitude startled Keegan, making him stare at the old man for a long moment, trying to decipher if Walneff was talking to him or about him. As Keegan looked Walneff in the eyes, it dawned on him that Walneff knew much more about him than he had first suspected.

“What do you know about me? You know about more than just my visions, don’t you?” Keegan asked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Walneff turned back toward the garden and placed his hands behind his back. “Yes, Keegan son of Barden. I know more about you than you think I do,” he said slowly in a low tone of voice.

Keegan felt a jolt go through him at hearing his father’s name, but he sat in complete silence, slowly processing the shocked feeling, watching Walneff gaze at the sky. He finally followed the old man’s line of vision to a couple of golden sparrows that chased each other in the sky.

“Then you know about…” Keegan paused, looking back at the old man.

Walneff let out a wistful sounding sigh. “Yes. I know about Pharrgon,” he replied with a nod of his head.

Keegan blinked, uncertain how he felt hearing Pharrgon’s name spoken by someone other than him, but somehow feeling happy that someone else shared his knowledge of the gold dragon. “And…how long have you known?” he asked.

Walneff took in a deep breath. “Oh, Keegan. I knew him long before you met me,” he answered slowly, the sound of many memories ringing in his voice.

Keegan stared at Walneff in silent shock and confusion, trying to understand how such a fact could be kept secret from him. “But….” Walneff raised his hand, interrupting Keegan’s line of thought.

“Shush, Keegan. We will speak on this subject another time,” the old man said softly.

A hard cough from another room put both of them on the alert, and Walneff turned and walked to a door that stood ajar. He put his hand on the latch and looked back at Keegan, nodding his head for Keegan to follow him. Keegan slid off the window’s sill and moved up behind Walneff, then the two of them walked into a dark, warm room, lit only by the glow of a small fire.

The room was similar to Keegan’s with a bear rug, a table, and a chair, but there were two beds instead of one, each on opposite sides of the fireplace. On one of the beds, a long figure relaxed in the comfort of the mass of wolf furs that draped the bed, only stirring slightly as Walneff and Keegan walked into the room. Walneff walked to the end of the bed and stopped while Keegan walked up further and sat down precariously on the side of the bed next to his friend.

Saul, with eyes barely open, smiled weakly at Keegan. His face was pale and still badly bruised, and his cheeks and eyes were hollow from lack of eating and proper rest, but his eyes twinkled unlike they had before.

Keegan sighed and shook his head. “Well, you aren’t any prettier to look at, but you do look better than you did last night,” he said with a grin, trying his best to look pleased and unconcerned.

Saul nodded his head ever so slightly. “It’ll take more than a beating to kill me,” he whispered.

“Good. I’ll keep that in mind the next time we have a few rounds of it,” Keegan said as he stood to his feet.

Saul closed his eyes and sighed, the smile on his face never dimming.

“Take comfort in peace and rest today, Saul,” Walneff said. “And rest deeply. I will be near if you should need me.”

Saul’s eyes remained closed, but he nodded his head. Keegan stared at Saul, trying to sum up how grievous his condition was, until Walneff put his hand on Keegan’s shoulder and motioned him to step outside. Walneff closed the door behind them while Keegan walked back over to one of the windows and leaned his hands on the sill.