SINGED
Chapter 12

“There is a cave up the beach,” I said. “I think the Hag planned to lure us there, perhaps we will replace her treasure there as well.”

We walked up the beach toward a suspicious promontory. It was a clutch of candles before we reached it, covered with barnacles and brine, constantly wetted by the spray of the sea. Abruptly the rocky outcropping surged in land where it vanished in the tree line, then reappeared above it, surging skyward. Far above the tallest mangrove trees was a shadowy recess.

It was a hazardous climb through bracken covered boulders and veils of clinging vines. We ascended in the silence save for the cries of seabirds that reminded me of Miranda and a stabbing sensation pierced my heart. I angrily pushed her from my thoughts, as the cave mouth yawned before us.

Stale air filled the hollow, smelling of rotten seaweed and something else familiar that I could not place. I was abruptly unsettled and, though I had not done so since my hatching, I reached out for my siblings instinctively, of course, replaceing no one upon whom I could rely. I was alone. Cayn could not be trusted or Sal, even, by association. Perhaps he was just a more skilled liar that I did not detect it. I did not deceive myself by assuming my truth seer ability was infallible. Already and recently Lenoir had misled me flawlessly. Her very presence had been displaced so that she seemed far away when she stood beside me. If I could be so completely deceived, then no one could truly be trusted.

I realized Sal and Cayncould be plotting against me, and behind them, was Alister. I knew it. I would not forget or forgive if he had used Miranda as bait just to uncover Lenoir’s treasure.

The thought of treasure, though, was distracting me. Right now, so soon after the loss of Miranda, this treasure hunt was a much-needed diversion. The idea of a cache of precious jewels secreted away in the cave, lifted my spirits, gave me a reason to move on from despair. It was a comfort to dream of a golden horde, sparkling, sparking my native ancestral passion and obsession for such things. This kind of love came naturally to dragons, this love of gold and jewels. A love that numbed my frozen heart. Gold was faithful, constant. It was not fickle or fragile like a human love. It would never leave me, never die.

With greed also came a surge of paranoia. Sal and Cayn were undoubtedly having similar thoughts. I turned to glare at them.

“Before we proceed, I want to know I can trust you,” I said.

Sal nodded and after a moment so did Cayn.

“Aye, you can trust us,” Sal replied, meeting my gaze. “I have no love for Alister after what we have faced. Has he not withheld vital details from us all? Perhaps he did not anticipate the dire nature of this voyage fully, but then again, maybe he did. It certainly seems so, says I. He risked us all, our very lives, and now expects us to return obediently with what we replace. I say we need to take care of ourselves, and of each other, and to the nether with Alister. He is a scheming forked tongue serpent who has only his best interests at heart.”

Cayn said nothing for a moment then sighed.

“I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought surely the Captain would replace another way. She was so determined.

We don’t even know if there is a treasure though. Let’s see for ourselves if there is one. Then we can decide what to do next.”

This at least rang true to me and my suspicions were mollified somewhat.

“Here,” said Sal, and he passed me a long thin blade. “Best we all be armed.”

I accepted it and slid it into my tattered sash. It was a slender little claw. Dragons do not usually part with their claws. I was touched.

We crept into the mouth of the cave. The sound of the sea echoed in the depths of the cave, like the breath of a hidden inhabitant. We paused again to listen but there was no other sound. Cautiously, we descended into the dark.

There had been something moving about recently. The sandy floor showed sweeping runnels where the sediment had been misplaced and, in the shadows, mounds of kelp lay piled.

Was it the Hag’s bed? I wondered. It was hard to believe the creature ever slept. She seemed more of a specter, relentless and eternally restless.

Further within, the floor of the chamber sloped out of sight, and distantly I could hear moisture dripping.

Sal and Cayn squinted into the gloom but said nothing, waiting for me to proceed. So, I did.

As I approached the seaweed heap, I heard chains rattling and something moved. I halted. Maybe the Hag was not alone after all. I drew my blade. I heard the faint ring of metal behind me as Sal and Cayn did the same. Then Cayn cried out as shadows rose from the heaps, swaying dangerously.

“We can’t fight in the dark,” Sal shouted. “Retreat to the cave mouth!”Cayn was already fleeing but Sal hesitated.

“Go,” I said. “I will follow. Wait for me at the mouth.”

He nodded and began his retreat.

However, I did not follow. Instead I turned back. There were three bobbing masses in the half-light. The clanking increased as they tumbled forward, making mewling sounds. They were as large as draft horses once they wriggled clear of the seaweed, but they stopped, unable to advance further. Pale green eyes blinked innocently as they continued to whine pitiably.

“Water drake hatchlings,” I exclaimed, astonished.

Deep in the well at the far end of the cavern, came a mournful bugling. It rose from below, deep and resonant. The cries of the hatchlings became urgent as they strained at the chains that restrained them, trying to reach the trumpeter.

This was how the Hag had been able to charm the drakes. Just as Great Wurms are difficult to enchant, so are water drakes. She must have imprisoned the hatchlings to draw the parents near. Eventually her curses had taken effect.

Now the Hag was gone, and the hatchlings remained, forgotten. It had not escaped my awareness that there were three, just like my clutch.

I regarded my own counterpart, the largest of the hatchlings, protectively interceding between myself and his smaller clutch-mates. Absently I wondered which of the others would have been the traitorous second. Yet none had escaped. All obediently remained.

Again, came the call of the remaining parent, the one that sunk my ship, but now I knew it had been charmed. With a pang of regret, I remembered I had slain its mate. We were even. We both had suffered because of the Hag.

The chains had been bolted about the hatchlings long slender necks, cruelly tight. I noticed a rusty anvil and a barnacle encrusted hammer against the wall.

Purposefully I strode towards the largest of the dragonlings, holding its luminous green gaze. I could feel its gentle mind, compliant and docile.

“Come with me,” I murmured. Without hesitation, it followed to the anvil.

“Bow your head,” I said softly.

It lay its head upon the anvil and I took up the hammer. It was cruel to leave it here to starve. Should I kill it? I raised the hammer and swung. The iron bolt at its throat cracked. Another blow and it shattered, the collar fell away. There was a roar from the cavern below, but the hatchling crooned and nuzzled me. It understood. Yet it returned to its siblings, refusing to leave.

“All right,” I nodded.

Only after all three had been freed did they retreat with much crooning and bobbing of heads, sliding down into the shadowy tunnel. I looked down the way they had gone, saw them slide out of sight. There was a rumble like the purring of a great cat and a trio of soft responses. Finally, there was silence and I knew they had gone. Only then did Sal and Cayn approach.

“I don’t know what to say,” Sal exclaimed. “I never seen the like.”

“Nor I,” Cayn murmured.

“Easier than slaying them,” I replied.

For some reason, I felt irritated. I had shown weakness I had not planned to reveal. Perhaps I should have slain them, I thought, but the others did not seem to have noticed.

“You charmed them with your eyes,” Sal continued. “Are you an enchanter too?”

“No,” I replied, “not an enchanter.”

I remembered telling Miranda the same thing on the ship.

“Very well have your secrets,” she had said.

Suddenly I did not want to keep my true nature secret anymore.

“I am a dragon,” I said, watching Sal and Cayn gape at me. They had witnessed too much to disbelieve me though.

“That’s explains much,” Sal said finally.

Cayn said nothing.

We found the treasure secreted under the piles of seaweed, beneath a steel plate bolted to the cave floor.

Everyone knows dragons are greedy for treasure. However, unlike human beings who want gold to gain power over each other, dragon greed is purer, in a way. We want treasure because it is beautiful.Many dragons are happy to live in total seclusion, in some barren waste, just laying on their golden bed, emerging only to feed and maybe gather more treasure.

That was my first instinct when we found the horde of the Hag. We would just move into the cave, pile up the mounds of stolen coins and jewels and stay there on the island. There was plenty to eat.

Sal and Cayn were adequate replacements for my disappointing siblings; the untrustworthy one and the lazy one. Sal and Cayn would stay and serve me, and in turn I would allow them to share the horde. By this I meant they could look at it, maybe caress a coin now and then, under my watchful eye. That is about as close to sharing as a dragon gets.

Sal and Cayn dispelled my allusions immediately.

“We split it evenly three ways,” Sal suggested. “Agreed?”

“I agree,”Cayn replied. “You were right, Alister does not deserve so much as a copper.”

He was speaking truthfully now, it sounded to me. Whatever reservation he had before had been resolved by the sizable fortune we had uncovered. I said nothing as I mulled over their proposition. My instinct was to angrily turn on them and either drive them away or devour them. However, my new human nature, which still dominated my inner dragon balked, horrified.

I was a dragon, but these were my friends. I was not ready to reject my humanity to such a level. It was, after all, human minds that had coaxed me from the dark recesses of my egg and showed me the brilliant light of the sun, which was even more brilliant than gold.

I had wanted to cast away my human persona when Miranda was lost to me, to divorce myself from the pain of her loss, but I could not do it. This fusion of dragon and mortal thought ran deeper than I could surmise.

“Then it is settled,” I said, out loud. I did not believe it at first. My inner dragon was stunned at my response, and I hurried on before I could think better of it.

“It does us little good though,” I continued, “while we are marooned here, but let us share all things equally while we are here.”

Sal and Cayn agreed, and we busied ourselves with removing the rotting seaweed and other unsavory reminders of the Hag to make the cave our own.

In the end, though, we decided to use the cave primarily for storage and as a shelter only when the rains came, for there was no ventilation for a cooking fire and the stone floor was uncomfortable in comparison to the soft, warm sands of the beach.