SINGED
Chapter 21

It is a dragon instinct that, when other animals flee, dragons tend to attack when threatened. I was no match for the Dragonlord, but I felt the way to escape his jaws was through them rather than trying to outrun them. So it was that, when I felt deep within my gut that it was time to leave, I returned to the abandoned house forced the locked door to the basement and plunged into the earth.

Darkness enveloped me until my eyes adjusted, shifting to the dragon sight. I could sense him immediately, and my heart leapt into my throat. If I was as obvious to him as he was to me, this track into the ancient dragon’s lair was a grave mistake. I froze there in the dark, unable to move at first, but after a candle, in which no sound could be heard except for the beating of my heart, I slowly proceeded down into the twisting tunnels.

Sometimes I inched along, pausing every horn or so to listen and to reach out with my mind. I could not replace Lord Cyndr in any specific location, but he seemed to pervade everywhere, the whole cavern was filled with him. However, I began to sense other lesser presences and from the thoughts I discovered they were nethergrim. That is who I had come to replace. If Gribnor and his tribe had been spared, they might be able to act as a go-between for myself and Lord Cyndr, or to provide a distractionwhile I escaped.

When I encountered the first guard, though he was the green skinned variety that met us when we arrived. Gribnor had said they were Cyndr’s honor guard, the strongest tribe of nethergrim. Gribnor would have left or been devoured by Cyndr.

“So we meet again,” I said, startling the guard into awareness.

“You!” he grunted. “You go!”

I thought I felt a shifting in the rock walls and the floor as if something moved beneath them like they were a blanket.

“Yes,” I agreed, softer now. “That would be best. How do I replace Gribnor?”

The nethergrim eyes narrowed. He sensed my fear, but he was also afraid of me. My presence would bring down the wrath of the Dragonlord, if I stayed; on all who were near.

“Go through magic door,” he gestured through the sea of crystal stalactites that looked familiar.

“May Dragon grant you strength,” I replied.

I heard a distant jingle of metal. A stale wind blew through the cavern, as I hurried through the calcified stone columns until the shining portal of mist appeared up ahead, and a shadow descended like the night, blotting out every torch so that only the portal remained as a beacon in the darkness.

I was running, and, in my haste, I tripped on the uneven stone floor, sprawling on the ground, skinning my palms. Righting myself, I spun about, expecting Cyndr to be there, leering down at me, but I was alone. I bolted forward again, spurred on by a growing irrational fear or perhaps supernatural. However when I reached the threshold of the shining portal, I stopped his heart pounding ringing ears and turned. Nothing.

“I will return to you, father!” I called recklessly.

For some reason, I felt let down. I was not important enough to even take notice of. Well I would work tirelessly to change that. I would either have Cyndr’s approval or his enmity. I did not care which now, but I would have his recognition.

Still nothing but rather than tempt fate further, grudgingly retreated through the mist. This time the portal did not lead back to the island. For second time in as many flickering of flames, I felt disappointment crashed down upon me. I had not consciously admitted it to myself since I no longer believed in humanity, but somewhere deep inside I had still hoped to search the island for Miranda one last time. Yet I had seen her fall, pierced by Cayn’s fatal quarrel. She had fallen into the swells of the sea, never to rise again.

She never existed at all. It was just a hawk.

This last futile hope insulted me. The human need for hope was a desperate lie to deal with the tragic hopelessness of the human condition, but I was not human. I decided right then and there that I hated human beings. They were an infection, a blight. I would be rid of their stubborn emotions if I had to slay them all. I would replace remorse and regret with dragon’s ire.

Where was I anyway? I spun about in a haze. I was still underground, but instead of slate and sandstone, the cavern walls were more granite with quartz veins. It was dark, remember? Only my dragon eyes could make out the details about me and I reveled in it for a long moment. A human would be terrified, unable to see; claustrophobic in the narrow tunnel, in the dark still air. But I was not human. I could see, and the subterranean pathways reminded me of my nest, the confines snug and comforting. Not human, not human at all.

Wondering through the tunnels deep in thought, I stumbled into a large chamber lighted with torches and cook fires. My eyes adjusted immediately. I’d been so self-absorbed I had basically ignored the sounds and signs, even the thoughts, of the local denizens.

The lofty cavern was crawling with blue skinned nethergrim. They were more shocked than I was by my appearance. Screams echoed like the calls of startled ravens about the vaulting stone roof and cruel curved blades bristled about me. I was overjoyed.

“Gribnor,” I called loudly.

The shrieks died away and a confused silence spread through the hordes.

I noticed guards at the far end of the chamber scoring about in a panic, so I waited patiently, even smiling at those closest to me, who blanched averting their yellow eyes timidly.

“All hail the young Dragon,” said the familiar voice like the roar of a bull lo-beast.

I couldn’t help but think there was a note resignation, even irritation, though the thick nethergrim accent made it hard to be sure. I suppressed a smirk. Gribnor entered the hall from the far side with a detachment of his honor guard. They dwarfed the average nethergrim, pushing roughly through the others like they were children. In the flicker of a flame, they stood before me, and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. They towered above me.

“Why we honored by your presence?” Gribnor asked.After a moment of polite scrutiny, he knelt upon one knee and impressively the whole horde followed suit.

I nodded my approval.

“I promised you more blood,” I replied. “I’ve come to fulfill my vow.”

I could not see Gribnor’s eyes beneath his prominent, chiseled brow, pale blue like a shelf of granite, but his faint smile, revealed a glittering arsenal of yellow fangs.

“Good,” he grunted. “Come to lead us against Chagrak? Did Dragonlord send you?”

He continued to show his dangerous canines which had become a challenge. My smile turned brittle, and I turned away to hide my indecision, clasping my hands behind my back in what I hoped was a casual display of nonchalance.

“Is that what you wish?” I asked. “I think your confidence is to be applauded but we all must earn the right to serve the Dragonlord. That is why I’ve come, just as you say, but it is a long road to the lair of the Dragonking, and it is covered in blood sacrifices. The first is that you give me control of your clan.”

I realized my mistake the moment the words left my mouth. I steeled myself and turned calmly. Gribnor remained on his knee but he was no longer bowing, and our eyes met like ships colliding on a stormy sea. A calm, taunting smile replaced the old one.

“Dragon already a god here,” he rumbled, “but if he wants to be chief as well, he must fight. Gribnor will not yield to a weaker chieftain, even one with dragon blood in his veins.”

I nodded. We both knew I could not back down now, and neither could he. He rose to his feet. The other nethergrim receded like a wave on the shore, leaving us standing alone in a great circle of stone.

A reverent hush fell over the assembled congregation.

“Is Dragon armed, or will he fight with tooth and claw?”

I was about to answer when he raised a hand, waving it to stop me before I spoke. I frowned.

“Gribnor beg forgiveness,” he said almost gently. “What me meant to say is to fight with everything you have. If you need weapon I give. If Dragon has hidden weapons, Dragon should use with tooth and claw. Everything. Gribnor will do the same. Until only one stands. Agreed?”

My frown deepened, and I shook my head.

“My terms,” I said.

He scowled, waiting for said terms.

“I will use no weapons, Dragon uses only tooth and claw. You may use whatever you wish.”

“Dragon shame Gribnor,” he growled. “No weapons then.”

“You don’t have claws,” I replied. “Choose a surrogate.”

He deliberated, truly torn by my request but finally he nodded, drawing forth a bone knife.

“This Gribnor’s claw,” he said.

I nodded.

“It begins,” he said, and charged at me.

I dodged away but he continued to press me relentlessly, keeping me off balance. The adrenaline caused my claws to grow and I lashed back defensively, connecting with his flailing arms. It was like striking a stone wall, so thick and calcified was his skin, yet he grunted and dark drops of blood stained the stone floor. I was faster by far, but he was bigger and much more experienced in combat.

Also, he fought dirty. He had warned me to use everything I had. While he did honor our agreed upon weapons, he was not above trying to blind me with his hair and even a spray of his own blood. He tripped me and attempted to pin me to the ground, but I rolled away, scrambling to my feet. I was suddenly afraid. Gribnor was harder and deadlier than Cayn. Cayn had been out of control, incredibly strong and fast, but undisciplined and crazed. Gribnor was a seasoned warrior and a cold-blooded killer.

He was able to interrupt me, over and over, turning me round and round. His bone knife seems to home in on my weakest parts, even when my skin darkened and changed into a scaly coat and leathery wings tore loose from my back to give me additional limbs with which to buffet and balance.

“Give everything!” he roared. “Everything Dragon has! No mercy!”

I was bleeding from a hundred wounds. When I tried desperately to leap into the air, he snagged my legs and with a terrible cry he severed the tendons in my right wing so that it dropped limply, dragging uselessly on the hard, stone floor.

“Fight Dragon!” he shouted, goading me with his blade.

I snarled back impressively and lashed out with my barbed tail. It caught Gribnor off-guard for once and he sprawled across the floor, sliding for several body lengths before, rolling and leaping to his feet.

“Good,” he panted.

Round and round we went. I was stronger, I told myself. I was wearing him down. Soon he would begin making mistakes, and then I would have him, but as the candle waned, I began to doubt my plan. He was wearing me down instead. My speed was dwindling, and his jabs were becoming more lethal.

“I am dying Dragon,” I thought. “I need my true form to survive! Let me change!”

I did not change further, but as the strength in my limbs ebbed, I realized perhaps I had changed enough. I was still humanoid, but I was looking down just slightly at Gribnor instead of up. My muscles bulged beneath my scaly skin. My claws were long and cruel, my tail serrated and deadly. My remaining wing extended a full body length and ended with a hardened horn. What’s more, I had teeth. Gribnor had agreed upon tooth and claw. I had not thought to use my powerful jaws. When I fed on human prey I never hesitated.

Gribnor was prey too. Everything was prey to Dragon. I had been approaching the battle as a human after all.

I dropped onto all fours. Gribnor responded immediately, falling back into a defensive stance, and strafing about me, but this time I did not turn. Instead I cut off his rush with my tail, buffeting him with my left wing. He sprang back, slashing at the more sensitive expanse of leathery membrane. Matching his speed, I withdrew my wing, just outside of his reach, baiting him to over-extend, but he would not be fooled. Smiling savagely, he withdrew and reversed his course.

I responded without thinking, imagining he was a clever meal and nothing more. In fact, wasn’t he? I’d never dying to another gram. I think my eyes might have dilated at that point with hunger because Scribner’s smile vanished and snarling he sprang back again. Now he was reacting rather than me. I had him on the run.

Vaguely I could hear that the great horde about us had begun chanting something. I was fighting relentlessly now but more efficiently as well. I was using only as much strength and speed as necessary, conserving my energy, while Gribnor was finally rattled into making mistakes, not enough for me to finish him but he was using more energy and he was slowly wearing out.

I fell into the feral trance like when I killed the first water drake. My mind was wandering, oddly detached. I realized for the first time,the nethergrim were speaking an entirely different tongue. I had learned their language from their thoughts without effort, in fact, unconsciously. All my banter with Gribnor all this time had been in his language with its chirping and clicking accents nested in guttural growls and hisses. The language used a vast range of volume and frequency, higher and lower than a human could even hear.

How interesting, I thought as I kicked out and sent Gribnor tumbling to the ground. He had an odd surprised look. As I hopped upon his chest and pinned his arms beneath my bulk, he nodded grudgingly in approval.

“Very good Dragon,” he wheezed through bloodied lips. “I’m satisfied. It is a good death, worthy of a nethergrim chieftain.”

The chanting had faded, and silence dominated the cavern.

“You may not die at this time,” I growled. “I do not allow it. You will die when I choose.”

I hopped up, stepping back out of reach in case he was not finished, but he only scowled and struggled to his feet.