The Forlorn Dragon, Chapter 1
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The Forlorn Dragon, Chapter 1
By William W. Kelso
The Dragoness shifted in the darkness, trying uselessly to find a more comfortable position on the cold stone floor of the chamber in which she had been imprisoned for so very long. The chains attached to the heavy collars around her neck and one hind leg rattled as she tried to push the straw covering the floor into a pile or nest of some kind. The filthy straw stank, but she was use to it. She hoped they would bring her food soon; it had been a very long time since she was fed last.
She was a Silver Dragoness, one of the more powerful of her kind, but that meant nothing in this place. Here she was but a slave, the powerful spells binding her shackles and herself where far too powerful and she had given up trying to fight or break them long years ago. Besides, she no longer cared if she lived or died after what the Warlock had done to her. He had perverted her magic and used it for his own means, used her powers of creation and nature to warp living beings into twisted new forms in order to create monstrosities to serve him. Her magic was tainted now, and would never be the same even if she did escape. She could never use her magic without fear of uncontrollable corruption. He had killed her mate and taken her when she was still young, then he had clipped her wings and taken the joy of flight from her, and many would not even recognize her as a silver dragon now. Her scales were splotched with fungal infections and dull and dirty, more of a dark grey color now and she was emaciated and filthy, and only half the size she should be as the starvation diet and horrible spells he used on her had left her weak and sick. For over one hundred years this had been the only place she had known. But she was glad to know it would soon end as she was dying; far before her time, but it would be a welcome relief from this hellish existence. Then she would be free again.
When the raiders came I was only eight, the youngest in a rather large family of freehold farmers. My Da was a retired soldier having served twenty years in the Imperial Infantry, and our farmland had been part of his retirement. It was good land too, and our farm was prosperous. We had worked hard to make it so. Da had donned his old Imperial armor and met the raiders along with my four older brothers and six hired hands in head on combat, he had trained us all and we gave a good account of ourselves and made the raiders pay heavily for their "victory". His pilum took a raider in the chest, and our javelins took down three more, and then it was brutal hand to hand combat. My Da took down foe after foe, his gladius flicking like a snakes tongue it was so fast, and more often than not drew blood. Old Jim; our groom, dragged an armored rider from his mount and drove a spear through his chest and pinned him to the ground, only to go down until a hail of sword strokes. We fought back to back as we sold our lives dearly fighting for what was ours. My sister had used her bow to good effect as well, dropping many a raider from his saddle with a war arrow punching through even their armor. I was too young and on the puny side anyway, but I plunged my dagger into the neck of one raider who had fallen from his mount after Da's gladius had carved a great gash in his leg. Da was the last to fall, roaring in defiance, surrounded by dead raiders and his sons and brave followers; and it took a fully armored mounted knight to bring him down. Oh Yes, we made them pay dearly. But it was a foregone conclusion from the start, but surrender was never an option, not with the forces of the Warlock. There were over a hundred raiders, but only eighty returned with more than one of them wounded. I was taken after a blow from the butt of a spear knocked me senseless even as I drove my dagger through the view slit of a soldier's helmet. I woke up briefly to find myself strapped face down over a horse and I could see the farm in flames. I never saw my mother or sister again and can only pray they died in the fighting; at least they were not with the party that carried me away as a slave. The alternative was too horrible to think about.
The Warlock was enraged when the raiding party returned from their latest foray. His beasts and the humans and mercenaries in his service had very little in the way of plunder, plus they had lost over twenty men in an attack on one farmstead against mere farmers! He was not impressed, and informed them there would be NO pay this week for their sorry performance. He did not care if they hated him or not; nor did her care for those who had died in his service, to him they were merely vermin to be used and thrown away. The only thing of value they did bring was a slave. He had looked at the rather puny human child lying naked and unconscious on the ground in front of him and at first had not been very pleased. Then when one of the soldiers had told him how the slave had killed a fully armored warrior with only a dagger his assessment changed. The warlock; for all his faults, had long ago learned not to judge something merely from its appearance. So the slave was a fighter was he, then he might be perfect if he survived. And the timing was good; it saved him a trip to find a suitable candidate for the very special spell he had been working on. And any of his older slaves were too cowed and broken to be of any use. It would take a strong soul to survive the spell.
The Warlock had just about been ready to leave on a raid of his own, but since the raiders had brought what he needed he would be able to perform the spell much sooner than anticipated. Plus it was a miserable cold drizzly day and even with spells to keep him dry and warm it was still unpleasant. He gave orders for the slave to be fed and cleaned up, then brought to him in the early morning. His dragon mount had been saddled and prepared for him and was waiting in the courtyard, but he just walked past it without a glance and left it in the rain. If the slaves wanted to put it back in its pen that was fine with him, but he was too busy to give the order himself, not that he even cared about the brute. It was a slave like all his other "servants". He left the great beast sitting dejectedly in the rain.
I woke up when I landed on the ground in a puddle of cold water. I was already freezing as no cover or clothing had been provided as I had ridden face down on a horse for who knew how many hours, or days. I remembered being force fed a few times, and someone had poured water down my throat, but my head ached and throbbed from its wound and I was given no care. I lay face down in the water and would have drowned if one of the raiders had not rolled me over with the toe of his boot. I think they thought I was still unconscious, and I almost was. But I do remember that first time I saw the Warlock. I must admit he looked splendid in his shiny black armor and rich trimmings, but his face was cruel and his eyes dark and merciless. He said something to his men and they dragged me across wet flagstones towards the looming keep and we passed a large dragon standing in the rain. Had I been able I would have struggled at the sight of that huge beast as I thought they were going to feed me to him, but as we passed he looked at me with large gentle eyes and he was battle torn and scarred, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for him as I could sense no malice in those reptilian eyes, only great sadness. I was finally dragged into a dungeon and thrown into a cell, given a quick exam by a rather rough "doctor", was cleaned up a little, given a large fairly good meal, and left to my own devices. Being sick; and still in shock, I picked at the food, and finally fell into a deep restless sleep haunted by nightmares. Again and again I saw my Da fall as I tried to reach him, again and again I saw my sister fall from the loft window with an arrow in her throat, watched as my brothers fell one by one.I dreamed I heard my mother screaming and could do nothing to help.
The dragoness stirred as she heard the great heavy door to her prison slowly creak open. Her hopes for food where shattered when two slaves entered and swept a clean path to her through the filthy straw. She knew what this meant; her master did not like to soil his boots. Resigned, she watched as the Warlock strode arrogantly into her cell. He looked at her with contempt, and said,
"You know what I am here for beast." And he held out a small ornately engraved golden flask that radiated power. "Now hold out your arm, do not resist or you know your punishment."
She looked at him in hatred, but knowing it would be useless to resist she crouched down and held out her arm. He pressed the mouth of the flask to her scales and she hissed in pain as she felt her blood being drawn into it, and with it some of her magic essence. When he removed it a short time later there was no wound, but it was almost full of her blood. She hissed her hatred for the monster, and said,
"You will be judged one day for your foul deeds, your crimes against nature and the order of things. There are powers far greater then you that will make you pay for your transgressions. Hiiiisssss!" She glared at him and he took a step back at the pure malice and hatred in her eyes.
"Beast, he replied, I AM the greatest power in the land! Even what is left of the Empire pays me homage and I will soon rule over it as well. Only a few weak and pitiful kingdoms and freeholds still resist my wishes. I am going to perform a very special and very powerful spell with the help of your blood and life force, and if it is successful I will soon have a new kind of beast at my command, an invincible mount to ride into battle. I think I will let you see the results of your contribution beast. After all; after a fashion, it will be your "child". And he laughed as he turned and left his prisoner in her dark squalor.
I woke to the light of torches and a commanding voice saying "Bring him!", and two soldiers lifted me under my arms and dragged me after the Warlock. I was still nude and it was cold, and I shivered from the cold and fear. I had no idea what the Warlock wanted with me, but I had a feeling it wasn't anything to my benefit. They dragged me across a courtyard in a wet drizzling rain, and opening two huge doors dragged me into a dark foul smelling chamber. I was thrown roughly to the floor and left there. I looked up blearily and saw something huge stir in the darkness, but it was hard to see and my eyesight was out of focus from the blow to my head. I did not know it but I had a concussion and was bleeding to death inside of my head, so what the Warlock did next in effect saved my life, but I truly wished he hadn't. I would have much preferred death over what came next.
The Warlock addressed the dragoness,
"Well beast, what do think of the soon to be newest member of my menagerie of brutes and beasts? Not much to look at is he? I will take this pitiful wretch and make him into a great and valuable slave in my service, and you should be honored by your part."
The dragoness didn't say anything, just looked in pity at the poor unfortunate before her. She spoke to the Warlock,
"He is but a child, and gravely injured. Even for you this is beyond belief! To subject a child to one of your perversions is a new low even for one such as yourself, you vile insect of a man!"
The Warlock made a gesture and spoke a work of power and the dragoness screeched in agony as burning torment shot through her body, radiated by the collar she wore. She clawed at it and shrieked, then suddenly the pain ended and she collapsed on the floor, gasping and choking.
"Beast, the Warlock said, you forget your place. You master is not pleased when a slave speaks to him so. I would suggest you refrain from such juvenile insults in the future lest I show my displeasure in an even more painful way, and now on to a more important matter. Now watch my power!"
I had watched as the Warlock tormented the poor creature, and saw his delight as it writhed and screamed in agony, his great pleasure at causing that pain. I did not understand how anyone could be so heartless, cruel and evil. I had never seen anything like this. I managed to croak out "Pig-fucking bastard!" That got his attention. He kicked me in the face and then stood over me gloating as fresh blood dripped from my split lips.
"Yes, my feisty little slave, you do have fight in you. Good, you will need it!" Then he turned to the soldiers and said "Hold him!"
The soldiers grabbed me and I was way too weak to resist. They forced a gag into my mouth with a hole in the center so my mouth was wide open and I had no way to close it, then while they held me the Warlock held a fancy flask to my mouth and poured the contents down my throat. I tried to gag and spit it up, but the gag prevented that and I swallowed it all, I had no choice. It was thick and sweet and foul. The soldiers removed the gag and threw me at the Warlocks feet and then stepped back. For a few moments nothing happened other then I felt a rather pleasant warm sensation in my stomach. Then I convulsed as a nauseating sensation flooded my body and I started to shudder and spasm. Then the unbearable agony started.
The first of many series of massive agonizing contortions and fits wracked my body and I fell on my side and screamed and screamed. My whole body felt like it was being torn apart and reconstructed every few minutes and I flailed and kicked wildly as I felt myself start to change, both inside and out. My skin writhed and crawled as scales formed and spread all over my body, my fingers and toes cracked and popped as they lengthened and my nails became sharp black claws, and I felt my very mind changing as new needs and instincts flooded into it beating down my humanity, and the horrible agony made me an almost mindless shell. And I screamed and screamed and screamed as I kicked and flailed my contorting twisted limbs.
The Warlock watched in delight as his newest beast took form, as the worthless slave slowly became something new and valuable. His screams meant the spell was working well, and would most likely be successful, but it was too early to tell for sure. There was always a chance he would become deformed or uselessly insane, but that did not happen often as the Warlock was very accomplished at the dark magic's he practiced. And if he did he would be destroyed, and the Warlock would have learned useful knowledge from his mistake. Either way the loss of a human slave meant nothing to the Warlock. But if the wretch survived he would be something truly special and unique, one of a kind.
Frothing at the mouth I gagged and choked as my jaws began to lengthen and push out from my swelling enlarging head, claws scrabbling at the floor while I squealed and screamed from the ongoing agony. I shrieked as spines and horns began to push out from my spine and other parts of my body, heavy bony plates forming on my back and sides, my lengthening tail swishing back and forth in an arc made deadly by the spear shaped barb growing on the tip. I rolled to over onto all fours and gave deep guttural moans as two large bulges on my back burst with wet tearing sounds and unfurled into bat like wings and they grew larger as they flailed and beat against the floor before hanging limply at my sides. I stared at the floor not realizing or understanding what was happening to me, and throwing back my head I roared as still more pain and agony wracked my body. I whimpered and mewled as my neck stretched and pushed out from my body as it lengthened, more spines and horns sprouted from the back of my neck as a large bony ridge formed around the back of my skull, spouting horns of its own. It felt like a giant was molding my body, crushing and reforming it, and I bellowed and shrieked in anguish, the sounds no longer even remotely human. Oh gods, I thought, what is happening to me, please make the pain stop! And shrieked and shrieked, then bellowed and roared as my chest expanded and my body thickened and became powerfully muscled and my arms became legs, and all of my legs lengthened and changed shape, and the skin of my elbows and knees split open as sharp spurs pushed out through it. Finally it became too much, and with a final shriek I collapsed, totally oblivious to the world and my ongoing torment as my body continued to writhe and change as I thrashed mindlessly, moaning and squealing, slobbering and snapping my jaws, and trying to claw and rend my invisible tormenter, and finally, mercifully, oblivion took away the pain.
The dragoness hung her head and wept as the poor human child changed into something else, his horrible screams and other sounds of soul wrenching agony ringing in chamber. She could see the foul Warlock watching in delight as the poor wretches torment grew worse and worse as he changed from human into something horrible. She had seen this many times, the evil man enjoyed making her watch the twisted results of her own abused powers, taking a power meant for life and healing and using it to create monstrosities, horrible unnatural abominations. She had lost track of how many men and women she had seen transformed thus, becoming part human and part animal. And sometime when a spell failed even the Warlock had quailed at the hideous results.
He had first used his powers to create "special troops" for his army, poor men and woman who became part human/animal beasts. Equine, bovine, deer, goats, pigs, his evil sick experiments knew no bounds. Humans turned into Satyrs, Minotaur's, lizard beasts, and other brutes, all bound to his service by powerful spells of blind obedience. The true horror was that most of them knew what had been done to them, their human minds intact, human eyes staring in horror out of beastial faces and muzzles. He then forced them to breed with one another; and natural animals; to try and produce viable offspring, and sometimes it worked but often the resulting spawn were horrors that even he had to order destroyed to end their tormented existence. He had them pleasure himself, and his human mercenaries if they were so inclined to partake in such unnatural couplings. The poor wretched things had no choice but to obey their master, and die for him even though he cared nothing for them. Often it was his own wounded or maimed soldiers who became the next victim of one of his hideous "experiments". His minions and slaves followed him not out of loyalty, but out of terror. Then he had started to create dragons to serve as his personal mounts, and when one was killed he created another. He cared no more for them then his other poor slaves and soldiers.
The Warlock used the magic of transmogrification to create his unnatural servants. This kind of magic was looked upon as evil by most practitioners as to transform one from their natural shape was considered a most foul thing. It was bad enough if it was done "willingly" as some chose to be changed, but to do it an unwilling human or animal was among the most vile of crimes. But the Warlock did not care for such "niceties" or "quaint" morals. It was much easier to create beasts then to capture and train them, and a beast with human intelligence was much more useful. Especially with greater beasts such as Dragons, to capture and successfully train a natural Dragon had never been done.
But she had never seen a creation like the poor unconscious thing lying on the floor in front of her, mewling and slobbering at the pain still rocking its body as it keened and flailed mindlessly. It was merciful it had finally become unconscious, unable to stand the torment any longer as its body and soul was twisted and violated. It gave a last rattling gasp and was still, breathing heavily, its great chest rising and falling like bellows. She looked at the Warlock and said,
"I have never seen a Dragon like this one, what have you done, what is this thing you have created!"
The Warlock decided to answer the question as he was in a good mood. His new pet was turning out nicely.
"He IS a dragon my slave, but he also has the blood of a dreadnaught, or what many would call a spiked behemoth. Think of it, the power and magic of a dragon coupled with the impenetrable armor of a dreadnaught, he will be indestructible! Even a dragon lance cannot penetrate such armor!" He laughed in glee, proud of his "achievement".
Throughout the keep both slaves and soldier cringed as they heard the horrible wails and cries coming from the dungeons, and knew another poor soul was being changed into something it had never been meant to be. And they cringed even more as the human sounds of pain became slowly more and more beastial until nothing human remained in them. It could just as easily been one of them, so while they sympathized they were also thankful they had been spared. In the courtyard the male dragon; who was still standing in the cold rain, hung his head and tears ran down his muzzle. He remembered his own agonizing transformation, and felt nothing but sympathy for the new soon-to-be-dragon for its torments were only just starting. Finally a slave, seeing the great grieving beast, took it on his own to lead the great dragon to his pen, and removed the saddle and harness and fed him what little was available.
The Warlock was delighted with the results, the beast had turned out even better than he expected. Of course there were many more spells to cast and it must become much larger before it would be ready for its intended use, but the first and hardest step was over and was a complete success. Stepping forward, avoiding the new dragon's still thrashing legs with their deadly claws, he affixed the collar that would bind it to his service around the beast's neck. As he chanted the spell of obedience the collar fused and closed, impossible to remove, and became almost a part of the beasts skin. It would stretch and grow as the beast did. Taking a last pleased look at the thing lying at his feet, he turned and left followed by his two horrified guards. They were hardened veterans, but even they had seldom seen such pain inflicted on anyone or anything. For all their own souls were twisted and dark they still felt pity for the poor wretched creature. To become something like that!
The silver dragoness watched as the Warlock left, and the great doors were shut locking her into the darkness again. But she could still see quite well with her night vision. They left the new beast with her, and she tried to ignore the unnatural thing the human had become. It still thrashed and moaned in its exhausted slumber; she knew it would take it days to recover and adjust to its new existence. Some never did and went insane or killed themselves, often in a berserk fury taking others with them until they were destroyed. It became quiet after awhile and then began to make soft plaintive squeals, the sound of a hatchling calling for its mother, a sound of fear and distress. The human had been a mere child when he was changed, and she realized the new dragon was but a child as well.
Unable to ignore those pleading wails she reached down and pulled the wretched thing to her chest. It clutched her still wailing, but not in as much panic now as it could smell her. She held it and crooned softly, licking it with her tongue as it bonded with her; and she bonded as well as she accepted it, and finally it fell into a deep sleep still moaning and gasping softly from time to time. It was an abomination in her eyes, but it was still only a child and it was no fault of its own it had become what it was. She would give it what comfort she could as it began its new life. The only child she would ever have.
I woke with a squeal, terrified the pain would still be waiting for me, but it was gone at last. Where am I? Who am I? I thought. It was very dark and I could feel and smell a comforting presence, a sense of being protected. I shut my eyes again, and this time when I opened them I could see perfectly well despite the darkness. It was then I realized I was being held by the presence I had sensed, and looking up I saw a great reptilian head looking down at me, but I felt no fear as the eyes looking at me were kind and loving. I rubbed my own head against her chest and chirped, and she said,
"Are you awake my little one? I felt you stir. Do not be afraid, I mean you no harm." The great creature told me.
I realized she hadn't spoken English, but I'd understood her perfectly, and it was definitely a she as I could tell from her scent. I raised my head, and turning it on my long almost prehensile neck I looked at myself, not understanding what I was seeing. What am I? I thought. I vaguely remembered something; that I had been different before, but the thought faded and was gone. Then I remembered the horrible pain, and with a squeal of fear I pressed my head back against the great beings warm scaly chest and moaned, and she stroked me and crooned soothingly and soon I fell asleep again as I clutched her with all my strength.
The silver dragon held the hatchling and comforted him when he awoke, afraid and confused, desperately clasping her for reassurance. She knew he would be disoriented and confused for awhile, but for now he at least was resting. That was best for him. When he was more aware and stronger she would do her best, if she had the chance, to explain things to him, to try and make his adjustment to his new existence as painless as possible. She had never bonded with any of the other changeling dragons even though they were basically
her "children" as well as her blood flowed in their veins, but they had all been adults and had been taken away immediately to began their "training". This one was still a child by dragon standards, and was much smaller than the others. She had never laid a clutch as the Warlock had taken her; and killed her mate, before she could, so had never had any hatchlings. Perhaps because of this she felt true love for this scared and confused little creature that clung to her like she was its mother, and in a way she was. She loved it as much as she would one of her own hatchlings,loved it with all her soul.
I woke when the doors to the dungeon opened and two soldiers entered followed by the Warlock. I recognized him as the one who had caused me so much pain and agony, and with a gasp of terror I clutched the other one like me, who I now thought of as my mother. He seemed amused by what he saw,
"Well, well, what have we here? Has the new slave found himself a protector? Come here slave, NOW!" Then he gestured for the new dragon to come to its master.
I ducked my head and hissed in fright, and the dragoness leaned down and said in a gentle voice,
"Go with him little one, for he is our master and there is naught we can do about it but obey. If you do not he will only cause you more pain." She hissed.
"Sage advice, the Warlock said, now COME here slave. I grow tired of this tender little scene."
The dragoness put me down, and with a scared little hiss I turned and followed the Warlock obediently. I felt compelled to do so, but didn't understand why. What I did know was I hated him with all my soul. I still didn't know who I was, or even what I was for sure, but I did know he was responsible. But I followed him like a good dog would as I was bound by my collar to obey him in all things.
He took me to a large room and had me stand still while he examined me. I stood nervously while he made measurements, took samples of blood, skin, and other parts of me, looked at me through strange devices, and all the while made notes in a large book. At last he said,
"Well, slave, you turned out quite nicely. Well proportioned, no obvious defects, wings functional and not vestigial, a dragons complete healing and magic resistant powers, and the full armor of a dreadnaught. Most impressive, you will be a terror in battle. The main problem now is your size, but I attribute that to your age. I should have used an adult male. But there are ways to remedy that minor setback."
I understood most of what he was saying, but what did he mean by battle? I was no soldier; I had no wish to fight. I knew what a dragon was, was that really what I was? But what was a dreadnaught? I looked at myself by turning my neck and head almost 180 degrees. There was a long line of long wicked spikes running down the middle of my back to base of my tail, and on each side pointing out at angles was another row of shorter spikes. My back was covered not in scales but instead large thick looking bony plates, and there was a row of short horns lining the sides of my body where my belly started. I lifted my tail and could see a nasty spear point shaped barb on the end of it, with three long wicked looking spikes on the top and sides. I had seen dragons before, but never one with so many horns or spikes, and they had scales, not plates. If I was a dragon, then what kind was I? I had been resting on my belly, so I lifted up and looked underneath and found the same thick bony plates, but in flexible bands. In fact the only places I seemed to have what looked like scales were on my legs and underside of my neck. My neck had more bony plates on the sides, and my head was solid bone all the way back to my head shield which had eight long horns growing from it in four pairs, and there was a long horn sticking up from the center of my fore head with several smaller ones running down to the tip of my beak like snout. I ran my long forked tongue over the huge fangs lining my jaws and tasted the air with it. My four fingered "hands" and feet had long razor sharp black talons, with another large spur on the back of each; they looked similar to birds feet. My coloring ran from dull silver to black. My eyes were protected by heavy brow ridges and I found I had more than two sets of eyelids, including a clear set that would snap down and protect my eyes from almost anything. The strange thing was it felt like I had never seen this body before, every time I looked I saw something new and strange and I had a hard time believing it was really me. It could feel it was my body, but it also felt strange and very wrong at the same time. I was so very confused; I couldn't remember much from before the time I had woken up in my mother's arms. Had I just been hatched? Any time I tried to remember any earlier time I found only pain and anguish, and recoiled from those memories. My stomach rumbled and I realized I was hungry, and drooling I ran my salivating forked tongue over my fangs again and snapped my jaws shut with a loud clack, saliva dripping from them.
While I had been inspecting myself in amazed confusion the Warlock had been working on something at this desk. Finally he spoke and I swiveled my head to look at him and hissed. He grinned, and said,
"Yes, I think I know what to do. A combination aging and growth spell should sort things out, but it will take awhile. But now to see how smart you are, and whether you can talk. A mute dragon is such a pain. Now I will ask some questions and you will answer to the best of your ability. If you do well you will be fed, if not you will go hungry. It matters not to me. Now, what is your name beast?"
I raised my head in surprise. I had NO idea! What WAS my name? He was watching me expectantly, and since he was my master I did my best to comply.
"Master, I have no name I can remember." I said in a deep rumbling gravelly voice which surprised me as I had never heard it before. It was kind of hard to talk, my tongue didn't seem built for it, and the voice came from deep in my throat.
"Good, said the Warlock, you will not have a name until I chose to give you one slave. I may or may not; it will depend on my generosity. Now, who is your Lord and Master, who do you serve?"
"Master, I serve only you." I replied, surprised by the realization that what I said was the truth.
"Good, good, the obedience spell is working nicely. So long as you serve me well you will be fed and cared for, and I will inflict no punishment. Should you fail in what is expected of you I will be harsh. Do you understand, slave?"
"Yes, My Master" I answered deferentially. Then he asked me some simple questions about numbers, asked if I could write (no), and other easy to answer questions.
"Excellent! Smart but not too smart, docile and respectful, the perfect slave. You have turned out quite nicely, I am pleased. Now drink this."
"Thank you Master", I replied.
I made no fuss as he poured something down my throat as I held my mouth open. But I was scared, I remembered something about having something else poured down my throat, but I did not protest. This tasted sweet, and the only effect was it made me ravenous. I was already hungry but my stomach began to rumble and gurgle even more. I was so hungry! I gave a deep hiss, I needed to feed! I gave a low rumbling hiss of hunger.
The Warlock turned and went to the door; then he ordered one of the soldiers on guard to have a beast handler take the dragon to the feeding station, then to return him to the dragoness's prison for now. At the thought of food I eagerly followed the man who came to collect me. I hungered.
He led me across the courtyard to a large open penned in area. Another dragon was already in the pen and he was feeding on a freshly killed cow, and the scent of raw meat and fresh blood made me drool, and it was soon dripping from my muzzle. I was led in to the pen, and even though the other dragon was much larger I was prepared to challenge him for a portion of the meal. But then as I watched a door opened and a large sheep was let out into the pen. I felt my stomach rumble again, and before I even realized what I was doing I pounced on the bleating sheep and grabbing it by the neck I held it down and bit its neck until it stopped breathing and was dead. Part of me was horrified, but my hunger overruled any other feelings. I tore great chunks off the sheep and throwing my head back swallowed them with great delight, the fresh meat was delicious! I did not chew; I just tore the sheep into large pieces and swallowed them whole. Soon nothing was left but some large pieces of skin and little else. I licked my fangs and looked around for more, but that was all for now. The other dragon had also finished his "dinner". He was much larger than me, but with horns only on his head and tail. He looked at me with interest, and I looked at him. He hissed and rumbled at me and I understood him perfectly,
"You must be the master's newest beast, but what are you? You look like a dragon and smell like one, but I have never seen your like before." He hissed.
"I have no idea what; or who, I am, I replied. I don't remember anything from before I woke up this morning. Do you know who I am?"
The older dragon looked at the young dragon; he was little more than a hatchling, the poor thing. It looked up at him, the eyes in its bloodstained head confused and so very frightened. It was best he didn't remember, the older dragon thought. He closed his eyes and gave a shudder; HE remembered everything that had been done to him. He had owned and run a fairly successful little tavern and hostel until the Warlocks troops had burned it; and the village, to the ground. He had been forced to drink that horrible potion and had become what he was now. For over thirty years his Master had rode him as his personal mount and he taken part in more battles then he could remember and his scarred body proved it. He had done horrible things at the order of his Master, and had no choice but to obey. He hated the evil man, but the spell kept him loyal unto death. Yes, it was best for the young one that he didn't remember who; or what; he had once been, that way laid insanity. Best he not even remember having once been human.
"I am sorry young one, I do not know from whence you came. The Master acquires his, um, special livestock in many ways."
"Will they let me go back to my mother now?" I asked hopefully.
The older dragon snorted in surprise, ‘Your mother, the silver dragoness? Why, uh, yes, I think they will."
If the poor little thing thinks she's his mother, what's the harm? In a way she was his mother as well, but not willingly. He felt sorry for the dragoness; all the beasts did, she was so old and pitiful. She should have been a thing of beauty. She had been there when he was created to replace the Master's former dragon that had been killed in battle, and he had no doubts she would be here long after he was gone.
Finally they came to fetch me, and led the older dragon in one direction as they took me back to my mother. I happily followed, my tail held high. A large beast that looked like he was part bull also came along carrying two sides of beef that I eyed hopefully, but when I found out they were for my mother my hopes died.
When they opened the doors to the dungeon I gave a happy squeal and ran to her and she nuzzled me and gave me a concerned lick or two, but then with a starving roar she grabbed the sides of beef and I stood off to one side while she gulped down the meat and I realized she was starving. For the first time I realized how thin and frail she was, and was horrified to see her wings were gone. Whimpering I walked up next to her and licked one of her wing stumps. She leaned over and licked my snout.
"Mother, I said, does it hurt? Why are your wings gone?"
"No, little one, it does not hurt anymore. The Warlock took my wings so long ago I do not even remember what was like to have them." She replied.
"I hate him" I said with grave certainty, "He hurts things, he hurt me, he hurt you, I HATE him."
"Yes, my dear, everyone here hates our Master. Never forget why. He only uses and destroys, he is a vile evil thing, more of a beast then any of his poor creations."
"Mother, I asked, who am I? I can't remember. Am I a creation?"
The dragoness replied, "Yes, in a way you are a creation, but you are also my child and my hatchling. You are a dragon; let no one tell you differently. Despite our current situation we are a great and proud race. Always remember that, little one; it is your own heritage now. Now come, it is late and you need your rest for what is to come."
I gave a happy hiss as she pulled me into her embrace again, and I quickly fell asleep as she held me, the steady beating of her hearts and her strong arms around me comforting me. I was a dragon; it must be true if she told me. And she was warm and smelled good, and as she held me I felt content and loved.
Over the next few months' things moved rapidly, it was almost overwhelming. In response to the almost daily potions the Warlock had me drink I grew rapidly in size. I was shocked, and I think he was as well, at how much I did grow. In six months I was as large as the other male dragon and he was full grown, and almost twice as large as my mother. I was fed a whole cow a day now, and was often still hungry. I often took a portion to my mother as she was not fed near as often as I was. No one mentioned the large chunks of raw meat I carried back to the dungeon with me almost every day. They knew better then to try to take food from a dragon, and secretly they were glad to see the old dragoness was getting more food.
My Master used spells and gave me more potions to cause other things to happen to me. Some hurt terribly, but I endured it with no complaint though I did shriek in pain more often than not. He had my horns sharpened and my fangs filed to razor sharp points. He also etched and emblazoned protective spell runes and glyphs all over my body until I was virtually covered in a mosaic of arcane symbols. He burned them into my very plates and scales, often while I was strapped down bellowing in agony. Even the membranes of my wings were tattooed with spells. In a way I was a work of magical art, but for evil and foul purposes.
He had the older male dragon teach me to fly and fight. The flying was wonderful but I did not care much for the fighting. I did it mainly to defend myself. The other dragon would "attack" me from every angle, but with my vision it was almost impossible to "sneak" up on me. I learned aerial maneuvers, how to respond to an attack from any angle, and the best ways to defend from, or attack an opponent myself. Other airborne animals and creations like me were also used to train me, and I learned the best ways to defend against many different kinds of foes, and also their weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He taught me to use my ability to breathe fire, the right kind of rocks to eat to increase the volume and effect of my blast, and it was terrifying even to me. My blast was much more powerful than his, and I was appalled as I could reduce several acres of forest to smoldering ash in minutes. Finally after I knocked him from the air; not meaning to though, the Warlock was satisfied with that part of my "training". I was also taught how to attack and defend against human opponents, but the only ones who were a threat were those mounted on other dragons or flying beasts and armed with dragon lances with spells cast on them. But due to the nature of my own armor; and the spells etched and burned into them, I only had to worry if a lance found an eye or entered my mouth. He had me stand still while he cast lances and great spells against me, and all shattered against my defenses though it hurt sometimes. I was also taught to cast defensive and offensive spells of my own, they were limited but very powerful. And he was pleased with my progress.
Finally after a year I was "full grown", now twice the size of the male dragon and four times my mother's size. But I did not feel like an adult, and found my large size to be fairly embarrassing and clumsy, at least on the ground. But in the air I was graceful and loved the thrill of flying, it never grew old for me. It was the only time I truly felt free, even if only for short periods. I always returned to my Master as I had no choice. Many opponents would underestimate me and assume because of my size I was slow in the air, and would find out otherwise, much to their dismay.
During this time I was returned to my mother's cell at night as by now there was no other place large enough to shelter me. She would comfort me after the day's often painful and strenuous training and other activities, and I would fall asleep with my head on her chest while she crooned and stroked my snout. As long as I had her love the life I led was bearable. I knew no matter how much I was hurt; or harshly treated; she would be there for me, and she gave me the only kindness I knew. And when the Warlock was changing another poor soul into a beast or monster I would often run to her and she would hold me while the horrible screams echoed throughout the keep, and I would cry and squeal my own terror for I felt what those poor souls felt. She taught me her own magic which I also had, but to heal, not to harm. I could use it on myself, or on others. Never let the Warlock know you have learned this magic, she warned me, he will force you to use it for evil, twist it as he so often twists my own magic.
I knew she was growing weaker and thinner despite the meat I brought her, though it did help. I tried to remove her chains more than once, only to be blasted by their magic. Finally I had to give up in angered frustration. Now it was I who held my mother to me, doing my best to keep her warm during the cold nights, my body coiled around hers and my wings forming a canopy over us. Every day I was away was torture, I was terrified I would return one day to find her gone and I would be alone.
During this whole time I was an obedient slave to my Master as I had no other choice. That he was evidently very pleased with the "way I turned out" meant nothing to me, I didn't care. I did not want to be what he had made me into, a formidable battle drake like no other. I had no desire to harm or fight other creatures of any kind, but I knew I would do so if he ordered me and that I would defend myself to the best of my ability, and as so many others had done before I would die for him if necessary, and would hate him the whole time. But as of yet I was untested in actual battle, but that was soon to change.
The Warlock pulled himself to his feet and looked at his mount in anger and disdain. The stupid beast had allowed a Wyvern to get too close and had taken a dragon lance in the neck from the Wyvern's rider which had snapped its neck. The dragon wasn't dead yet, but soon would be. It lay moaning and hissing, its broken wing pinned under it. The Warlock did not have the time; or desire, to perform a healing spell on the beast. It had grown slow from its numerous wounds and was worn out. Besides he had a new mount that was ready, and he was anxious to try it in combat. That the old dragon had served him well for over thirty years meant nothing to the Warlock. His army had routed the enemy's ground forces, but their aerial defense had been impressive and it had taken a massed frontal assault to break and scatter their line. The agile and well armored Wyverns and their riders had been the biggest threat, and had he not spun the dragon into the path of the Wyverns attack he might have been the one with a lance in his neck. That the dragon had taken the lance in his place meant nothing to him. As he started to walk away and find a lesser mount to take him back to the fortress the dying dragon asked him,
"Master, please, I can't feel my body. Please help me, Hisss." It moaned.
"Why should I you stupid brute, you failed me. I have a great victory to celebrate and do not have time to waste on you. You always were a useless thing." The Warlock replied.
"Master, please. I have served you well, please, don't leave me like this. Please, kill me, hisss." The dragon pleaded.
"And waste a powerful spell on something that is already dead? I think not stupid beast. I'm sure the scavengers and animals will be along soon, and they will be sure to appreciate such a meal. Now take pride that your miserable life was spent in the service of the greatest ruler the land has ever known. Now I have wasted enough time."
And he turned and mounted a Gryphon riders mount to carry him back to his fortress.
"Please, Master, please, it hurts."
But the Warlock was already gone, and there was only one left to hear the dragons fading pleas.
One of the Warlocks beasts, a great lizard thing, waited until the Warlock was out of sight, and then drove her spear through the dragon's eye and into its brain to end its suffering; it was all she could do for her old friend. As she went back to join the army she had tears in her eyes.
The Warlock landed his Gryphon mount in the courtyard of his great keep and yelled for slaves to tend to it. Some of them were surprised he was not riding his usual dragon mount, but knew better then to inquire. The old slave who had taken care of the great beast for so long knew what it meant though, and he hid himself in a storage shed and cried for the great beast he had cared for and called friend for so many years during their fellow servitude. The Warlock then summoned his head groom and told him to prepare his new mount immediately as there were still remnants of the enemies' army to track down and destroy and he wanted to waste no time.
I was in the main training pen going through some ground battle training sessions with a human instructor, how to fight a mounted knight or dismounted Men-at-arms. I was bored as I had done this so many times I had it memorized. But that changed when a soldier arrived, out of breath, and ordered me to report to the main stables to be saddled. I of course obeyed, I had been trained to carry a rider and obey his commands, but my Master had only ridden me a few times as he was usually too busy for such pleasantries.
I arrived at the stables paddock, much to the consternation of the horses and other ground mounts that made tracks for the barn along with most of the slaves and disappeared. I usually have that effect. The head groom was waiting for me and quickly put on my saddle and a harness. I was a little surprised as it was a large ornate battle saddle I had not worn before, and was even more surprised when the groom led me to the main courtyard and left me in the care of soldier. I understood when the Warlock emerged from the keep's main gate and walked towards me, and I obediently crouched and lowered my head to allow him to mount.
He gave a loud "UP!" and I sprang into the air and with powerful strokes of my wings quickly cleared the keep walls and gained altitude. We were joined by flights of Wyverns, Gryphon's, and a few of his other creations that were neither one thing nor another. He used a combination of voice commands, the harness and bridle with bit, and taps to my head to direct me. I had trained with flights of other great aerial beasts before, but this did not feel like a training flight as he directed me to fly straight and level in one direction, and soon I was farther from the great keep that I thought off as my home then I had ever been. As I watched some of the other beasts sped up and spread out on all sides and I knew they were pickets and scouts who would watch for any dangers.
After a few hours we reached a great battlefield, but the battle was long over and the scavengers were at work. As we passed over I saw my friend the old dragon lying dead and broken on the side of a hill and felt a great loss for the one other like me; other than my mother, who had been a friend and had trained me to survive as a battle dragon. I gave a long mournful bellow of grief and farewell as we passed over that horrible field. The Warlock did not understand, he just cried out,
"So the smell of death excites you my great beast, have no fear, soon you will be dealing death yourself, but your anticipation pleases your master."
And he spoke the truth for fairly soon after we came upon a sizeable force of the defeated army, retreating in good order in the hope of fighting again one day. They got their wish, but far sooner and under circumstances not to their advantage, but they were brave and they fought long and well. Spying the retreating force the Warlock gave the command for me to dive and use my fire flux, and I had no choice but to obey. As we passed over them I lowered my head and released a great spray of fire flux in a long spread out swath, and incinerated almost an entire regiment of heavy infantry and a few arrows rattled harmlessly against my armor in reply. The Warlock cried "Excellent, and again!" I made two more passed before my flux was exhausted, and I tried to ignore the horrible cries of the hundreds of helpless men and animals I killed that day, and roared in anger and rage, but not at my victims. My attacks broke the enemy's line and they fled in terror and were easy prey for the smaller aerial beasts who took great sport in running them down.
Then we in turn were attacked; from above, by a large flight of Wyverns and Gryphon's from the enemies army that had come to the aid; too late, of their comrades. Our numbers were fairly even and their first strike dispatched many an over confident and lax opponent who was paying attention only to the ground action and we took many casualties, but rallied quickly and the Warlock led a counterattack. For all his faults cowardice was not one of them. As we neared their own formation and engaged them he cast a spell that blasted an armored Wyvern & rider from the sky, and casting one of the lances he carried in a great quiver strapped to the side of my neck he skewered a Gryphon and it fell with its screaming rider.
A very large Wyvern, but still much smaller then I was, challenged me and I roared a reply as I had entered into my first battle rage, and my only thought was to close with the enemy. But the Warlock checked my instinctive reaction to the challenge, and hurled a spell at the other rider, who turned it with a spell of his own. So we hovered, the Wyvern and I, roaring and hissing war cries; while our riders hurled spell after spell at one another to no effect.
The air was full of diving, twisting, roaring and screaming combatants, and sometimes two locked in combat would fall past us. Blasts of power and spells lit the sky and there was a smell of ozone in the air. A Gryphon rider, seeing his chance, dove on us and I saw him out of the corner of my eye as my peripheral vision is excellent. I waited until just before he struck, did a quick half roll, and killed both rider and gryphon with my talons and their broken shattered bodies fell to the ground far below. It was instinctive on my part; both a natural response to an attack from above and the result of long days of training, and it took only a few moments. I was not injured in any way. My master just laughed, pleased that his new mount had indeed turned out to be a formidable force of destruction, for that is how he measured the value of a slave. And I roared at my victory, the first of many that day.
Their arsenal of spells exhausted the Warlock ordered me to attack, and the other rider did the same. As we passed they hurled lances on the first pass, and then after that exchanged mighty blows with their great war swords, enchanted weapons from which great arcs of sparks and blasts of power issued to crash harmlessly against their armor and the armor of their mounts. The wyvern tried to grapple with me but I knew my rider did not wish that so refused, but took great swipes at him with my tail and talons, and he did the same. He was an older greatly experienced beast and landed some good blows that might have injured another dragon, but my ensorcelled plates of armor turned his blows with ease and finally I gave him a great gash across his side with the barb on the end of my tail, cutting through his scales like paper. With a shriek he dived and he and his rider sped away, low and fast, and I dove in pursuit as the Warlock command though he needed not give it, in my battle lust I wanted to pursue and destroy the opponent who had dared challenged me. The great beast I had become was in full control and mercy was not an option. But just before I closed with him for the final blow we were intercepted by two smaller Wyverns and had to break off pursuit and defend ourselves. I quickly dispatched one of them, and the other fled, and by then it was too late to pursue the other larger Wyvern and its rider. The Warlock was upset, but still pleased by my performance and his new "victory" and the others continued to run down stragglers well into the evening, but the Warlock just had me fly high above so he could enjoy the slaughter.
When dark fell the Warlock lost interest in the sport and turned me for "home" along with what remained of his aerial forces. They were quite a few less on the return flight, the enemy fliers had fought well and with desperate valor. I landed in the courtyard and the Warlock dismounted with orders for a "great feast" to celebrate his great victory. I was not invited, but was led away to the stables and my tack and saddle removed, then was taken to the feeding pen where for the first time in years I ate alone, and my heart ached for the missing friend I would never see again. Due to my size I eat a lot, and was given too full grown steers to slaughter and feed upon. As usual I killed them fast and clean as I do not play with my food, and took half of one to my mother. She devoured my offering with ravenous speed as I was just about the only one who brought her any food anymore. She was now useless for the Warlock's needs, too fragile and weak, and he did not care if she lived or died now. I think he only allowed her to continue living as it made me easier to control. As she ate I moved to one corner of the great chamber and curled up with my head tucked under one great wing, and thought about what had happened that day, about what I had done.
I remembered the horrible agonized screams of the men and animals I had burned alive, who could not even defend themselves, the beasts and riders I had sent tumbling from the sky dead, or to die as they hit the ground far below, the evil cries of joy from my rider and my own battle cries and bellows of victory as we tore through the ranks of our foes. And I started to cry, great shuddering sobs as the human and even the beast in me was horrified as what I had done. I know knew what I had been created for; what my life would be, a great living killing machine whose only purpose was to bear my master into battle and slaughter at his command, and what terrified me even more was I was afraid I would grow to enjoy it.
The dragoness finished the large meal with a sigh of pleasure, grateful to her young one for being so caring. But now that her horrible hunger was temporarily satiated she realized that something was wrong. By now the child would usually have joined her for the night, and they would give one another what comfort they could. But she could see that he was clearly in distress, traumatized by something. She called him, and at first he didn't respond, but when she called again he crept over to her and laid his great head on her chest and cried. She could smell the blood of others on him now, the scent of his battle rage fading but still there, and she knew what had happened. That this great gentle child had been forced to fight and kill by their vile master, and it was tearing his soul apart. She held him until his wails and sobs faded and he finally fell asleep. She kept nuzzling and licking his huge misshapen head long afterwards, tears running down her own muzzle.
For over ten years I carried my master into battle after battle, and I became a battle hardened and seasoned veteran with my share of scars, but I never received a major wound of any kind as my combination of natural armor and magical defenses were virtually invulnerable to even the strongest of spells or mightiest of weapons. Spells that would have blasted any other dragon from the sky; and the sharpest of blades, merely bounced off my defenses harmlessly.
I grew to relish the heady rush of battle rage and combat with a worthy foe as after all I am a dragon; a Battle Drake, but I never grew to like the slaughter of those that could not even defend themselves. I became very good at killing and grew numb and resigned to dealing horrendous death and destruction to my masters enemies of which there were many. And it was these enemies that finally gave me a name. "Dragamort", it meant the Dragon of Death. When my master found out he "rewarded" me with that horrible name and that is how I am known to both friend and foes alike. It is a name that is hated and feared.
But of the horrors he forced me to inflict, the burning of helpless villages or towns, the slaughter of innocents, the devouring of living captives as punishment; or to instill terror in others, was by far the worst. He would have me swallow their nude struggling bodies alive, and I could feel their struggles in my stomach for hours after I had eaten them. Often on campaign humans would be my only food. These foul acts which I had no choice but to perform traumatized my soul and made me a bitter hating thing. My hatred for my master grew and grew with each horrible act he forced me to perform until it was a gnawing festering thing, and it caused me to take out my hatred on others. I became utterly without mercy, and followed my foul master's orders without question. I became a plague on the land.
The only thing that kept me from becoming a truly evil creature was the love of my mother, for only she could love what I had become. She knew the one truly responsible for what I was and the atrocities I committed; and did not blame me, as like herself I was only a slave, as much a victim as those I destroyed. She would hold my head and comfort me while I wailed and shrieked in horror at what I had done, at what I was becoming. But she was slowly growing weaker and I knew it was only a matter of time until she would die, and the very thought terrorized me. Without her love I knew I would slowly surrender to; and descend, into total darkness. I knew if she ever left me eventually I would become a willing participant and devoted partner of my master, as he seemed to believe I was now. It is amazing how a master will eventually come to assume a slave loves him just because they are obedient and apparently loyal, but what is truly horrible is some slaves do come to truly love their masters and accept their bondage as natural and desirable. And I feared that more than anything else.
Then came a fluke; a miracle of sorts if you will, that changed everything for myself and every human and creature in the land. It was during a fairly minor; but extremely intense, aerial action against the flyers of the one large kingdom still resisting my master's rule. As usual we broke their line and it was during the mopping up actions that the event occurred. I had just dispatched a rather large and seasoned green dragon after a vicious running battle and sent him tumbling from the sky with shredded wings, and had turned on two Wyverns that had been trying to assist him. I grabbed one with my front feet and tore it to pieces and roaring banked to attack the remaining one who was trying to flee, and the rider desperately hurled his last dragon lance at me, and I dipped my head to avoid the lance as my eyes and mouth are my only vulnerable spots, and the edge of the ensorcelled lance slid along the plates on my neck, under the edge of my slave collar, and the lance and collar shattered with a great blast that would have killed a normal beast, and should have killed me as well, but again my plate armor and powerful defensive spells saved me.
The blast did stun me, and I fell through the air while the Warlock tried to gain control. He was not sure as to what had happened, only that his mount was out of control and plunging helplessly towards the ground. At the last second before impact I recovered my senses even though my neck hurt terribly, and with a great flap of my wings was able to regain some control and glide to a rather rough landing. As I came to a standstill I immediately realized something had changed, but at first did not realize what it was. It was only when the Warlock angrily ordered me back into the air that I realized I felt NO compulsion to obey! I reached up and felt the horribly sore spot on my neck, felt for the collar that was no longer there. It was then I realized I was FREE!
With a shriek of utter hatred I reached up and pulled the Warlock from the saddle, the heavy straps holding him snapping like twine. I threw him to the ground and then batted him against large stone outcropping which left him stunned and incapable of trying to retaliate. I walked up to him, and hissing my hatred stripped him of all his armor and finery. I picked him up and looked at him and relished the horror in his eyes as he realized his fate, the same fate as that of the many innocents he had forced me to devour. I stuffed him head first into my mouth, and throwing my head back I slowly swallowed him alive, kicking and screaming, the powerful muscles in my throat pushing him down and into my stomach and I would revel in his struggles for hours to come as he was digested alive, like those others he had forced me to devour for his amusement. I felt it was fitting he should meet his end in the belly of the very beast he had created to serve him. Then I threw back my head and roared and roared in joyous victory! FREE! FREEDOM! Then slowly my roars changed to wails and keens of grieving and anguish for all those I had slaughtered and tormented over the years at the Warlocks command.
Several hours later, attracted by my roars, a Wyvern scout who had been out looking for us landed nearby and the rider called out to me and asked if I knew where our Master was. I lowered my head and ceased my lament and approached the Wyvern and its rider. The rider was another "creation" of the master, part human and part goat, a satyr. I looked in the large brown eyes in his bestial head and he looked back into my own expressionless reptilian eyes, then I reached out to the collar on the Wyverns neck and tore it off, and there was no reaction as the spell on the collar of obedience had died with the one who cast them. The rider's eyes widened in astonishment, and the Wyvern gave a screech of joy as it felt its own new freedom. I reared up and said,
"The monster is DEAD, we are free my brother!"
The satyr reached up and removed his own collar with shaking hands, bleating with tears running down his muzzle. By nature most beasts are peaceful creatures, and having been forced to kill and perform horrible acts as I had been his own joy at being free was as great as mine. He and his mount gave further shrieks and bleats of joy, and sprang back into the air to carry the news to rest of the army, to let their fellow beasts and slaves know that the nightmare was over, that they were all FREE!
The End, Chapter 1
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