Dragon Knights Fan Fiction ❯ The Lonely and Unfulfilling Life of a Spy ❯ Dragon Comes Out... ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

<scene setting>
A room underground. The walls are hewn from rock. Surprisingly, it's very comfortable, the temperature underground is a constant warmth and there are several homey touches, such as bad embroidery on the walls. Several pots and pans are hung up by the fire and a curtain is pulled across, cutting the room in half and hiding a bed. The quilt covering it is quite naff. In fact the entire room is a mix of necessity and naffness. You can tell that the owner doesn't have enough money to do things up as she would like.

<add sound effects>
The loudest sound is the clanging of a spoon against a pot. Muffled mumblings come from the bed behind the curtain and a vague thumping can be heard from beyond the front door and only door.

<add cast of characters>
A mostly mud encrusted body is stirring foul green stuff in a pot over the fire. She's now wearing a homely and naff apron. Her hands are immaculately clean and are actually an off-white colour, although it's hard to tell in the light from the fire. What appears to be a mummy is resting in the bed.

The figure seems satisfied with her stirring and carefully discards the spoon. As she stands to move the pot from the heat, the stench makes its way up her nose.

"Eugh! Oh my..." *cough*hack*splutter* "I hope this works. It's been a long time since I had to make it."

The pot is heavy and she sidles behind the curtain with it. The mummy is twisting and moaning underneath the covers.

"Now then, does this go on the body or in the body?" She shrugs. "Oh well, it's made of natural ingredients so it can't hurt. If this doesn't break the fever nothing will."

Getting the mummy to eat the concoction is a tough task. In the end several funnels are used and as much of the fluid is spilled on the bandages as goes down the mummy's throat. So, whether it was supposed to be taken internally or externally doesn't matter anymore. The girl cleans up as best she can before unwrapping the bandages around the mummy's head. The Dragon's pretty face is revealed, sweating and grimacing in the midst of a fever. Even deathly ill, he's attractive. She tries speaking to him, hoping for a sign that her ministrations are working, however he shows no sign that he is conscious of anything.

"Dragon? Dragon? Are you feeling any better?"
"Mmph. Urkle. road.. castle... Key.... LYKOULEON!"

He's shouted this many times before. It's the main reason that his mouth's kept bandaged. The girl doesn't have many neighbours, but creatures such as her are a nosy lot and she's sure that visitors are due.

"Lykouleon. Is that your girlfriend?"

The dragon continues to mouth nonsense. The girl sighs.

"Lykouleon's such a pretty name. I bet she's gorgeous. What's your name little dragon? Your name?"

She listens carefully to him.

"I don't think you look like a 'Mmph Hargh E', so I'll just go on calling you 'dragon' for now. Okay?"

The dragon makes no noticeable response.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, I'm gonna check your bandages, the bleeding parts, okay? So don't get weird about it." She shakes her head. "You're unconscious, what do you care? I'll try to be professional about it."

As you might suspect, that's not as easy as it sounds. The girl's not a professional nurse and worries that she's doing it all wrong. Also, the fever's making the dragon sweat and his scent fills the room. The smell has been partly covered by the evil concoction, but she can still detect it. The dragon's skin is smooth, soft and uncomfortably hot. It was a bad idea to bring him back to her place. If she's found out, she doesn't know what her bosses in the All New Nadil-less Nadil's Army will do, but she suspects that it won't be pleasant. If he dies, she has to dump the body undetected, but if he lives, it might be just as bad for her.

She removes the bandages on the relevant parts of the dragon's body. Legs, arms, chest, mmph! Thank goodness the bleeding's stopped and the wounds are starting to heal. The girl's not sure when a good time to remove the stitches is, so she's going to leave it for as long as possible. The danger is with his fever. She can see the wounds healing, but she's got no idea how to help the fever break. All she can do is change his dressings and retie the bandages.

The girl is still ministering to the dragon when she hears a gentle knock on the door. Panicked, she ties a few extra bandages around the dragon, cutting off his breathing and carefully pulls the curtain to cover as much of the area beyond as possible. Finally she opens the door to reveal her companion of last night. The beaming creature, now accompanied by a squirming, blanketed bundle held tenderly in her arms, calls out "Thanks Rrowlf. See you", waves at a shadow beyond the door and enters. The girl waves too and cuts off a "Heya, L-" as she closes the door.

"Hello, finally finished I see."
"Welcome Douhna, how are you? Ooh is that Ifran?"

She knows the way to a mother's heart. Her visitor proudly exposes her writhing bundle, revealing a slightly gooey, green-tinged baby shape. The girl makes all the proper noises and gleefully examines the small new-born.

"Bless, he looks just like his dad, doesn't he?"

Douhna can barely contain the smile on her face. She dumps the baby into her friend's arms, who's careful to protect her apron from the spreading mucus. She ends up taking it off and settling on the floor to play with Ifran.

"Since you named him, I thought it was only right to bring him to visit. Rrowlf offered to walk me down. I think he's sweet on you."

She nudges her companion in the way that all happy women do when they've decided to spread their happiness by turning you into another version of them. The look on her friend's face tells you all you need to know about her feelings for Rrowlf.

"Oh come on. He's not that bad. He's quite attractive."
"That's just what he keeps telling you. It's a form of brainwashing."
"He's a nice enough guy."
"He's slimy. And not in the slime-covered sense, there's nothing wrong with that." The hasty addition to her sentence seems to have saved her. "You can talk to him cos he's not interested in a woman with children. With me he just hits all the wrong buttons. It's hard to describe exactly."
"Well, try."
"He's constantly watching for other, better looking women, even as he's staring at my chest. I get the feeling that he's just sleazing on me as a courtesy, if that sounds right. It's as if he thinks that's how all guys behave towards single women."
"Fancy trying to change him?"
"I'd prefer to eat hot coals. He's not interested in me. He probably heard that a new chick moved in nearby and he was hoping to scope her out."

Her companion, still bathing in the 'You invited me to show off the baby I made' glow, bounces over to the kitchen area. She peruses the still-open jars.

"Sage, Rosemary, Goo #97. Someone got a cold?" Her nose crinkles suddenly and she covers it. "Ewwww. You were boiling up something foul!" She eyes the girl. "Are you planning on giving up being a minion and treading a new path as a crone?"

The potential crone smiles.

"Does it pay any better?"
"I think you get an extra frog every other tuesday. But you have to provide your own rags, have your unique and unusual affliction cleared by the Crones' Council and age at least fifty years."
"I think I can manage at least two out of those three. Odd stench is my speciality, as you can tell."
"How do you age fifty years then?"
"Mmm, there's a lot you can do with mud. I reckon I could add a decade or two by applying it carefully."
"Muddy Bella might have a word or two to say to you about that. Her gig is a kind of muddy wildwoman thang."
"Darn it."
"You have to conceal your voice too, pet. Even with ten decades of mud on you, you still sound like a bright and perky eighteen year old. Crones don't do bright or perky."
"Darn it squared."

An odd, high-pitched, sucking noise is rapidly making its presence felt from the area behind the curtain. Douhna looks puzzled.

"What's that noise?"
"Wind?"

The attempt to deceive her friend fails miserably and Douhna quickly reaches for the curtain. She peeks behind.

"Honey, who's your friend?"
"He's err, my cousin."
"Your cousin?" She peeks around the curtain at the anxious girl. "I thought you didn't have any family."
"Me, no. No, but, the friend I grew up with, Palma, had a cousin, CousinJon. She always called him CousinJon and as I didn't know any better, I did too. The name's stuck now. That's him there. CousinJon."

Douhna looks sceptically at the figure on the bed.

"Honey, he doesn't look too good."

The girl leaps from the floor, Douhna has to drop to catch her falling precious. The curtain is jerked aside to reveal the frantically thrashing mummy, which has turned a vibrant shade of purple, even through the bandages. She tears at the wrappings and finally the sweet taste of oxygen reaches the exposed dragon's lungs. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turns happily to meet her horrified friend's expression.

"Oh no," said quietly.

Douhna rises and for a moment, all she can do is point at the now-peaceful figure.

"That's a dragon. That's a dragon! Is that THE dragon?"
"Yes."

Silence fills the room, or empties the room, whichever is appropriate.

"Honey, what have you done?"

The look on Douhna's face hasn't altered. It's making her host so uncomfortable. Up to now, she's managed to avoid thinking about all the downsides. Seeing her friend instinctively covering her baby, she realises that what she's done could have massive repercussions beyond her simple future.

"What're you gonna do?"
"Just tell me, why?"

The girl pauses before answering. She sees again in her mind the bleeding pile of rags and realises that ever since that moment she's been acting on instinct. Her only thoughts were to get the dragon away, to safety. Since then, she's been consumed by him and him alone. Well, she did get to see him naked and that was quite impressive.

"He was hurt. You know what I'm like. Remember the wounded kitten?"
"The one with rabies?"
"Yeah, that one. It was just the same, except that he's heavier and not as furry."
"Or frothing at the mouth."
"No."

The immediate shock has worn off. The dragon isn't rising to wreak bloody vengeance and Douhna now has space to think.

"I'm sorry, I have to tell them."
"Douhna?"
"Honey, I have a family. I can't afford to lose my job and yours is definitely gone. I don't know what else'll happen to you, but if I don't, then what'll happen to him?" She holds the mewling, sticky bundle up to the girl's guilty face.

"Douhna..."
"Maybe you'll be okay. Everyone knows that dragons have this...charisma. If you get a sympathetic judge, you might get off lightly."
"Douhna..."
"It was alright when he was far away and it was all just wishful thinking, but we can't do this. You can't have a dragon in your bedroom!" A small possibility hits her, but the gravity of the situation drives the thought from her almost as soon as it arrives.
"Douhna, he's hurt."
"I can't. I'm sorry. I, I can't"
"Can you wait then?"
"What?"
"His wounds are healing, but he's got a fever. It's pointless to bring him here and then have him caught by the Army. It'll have been for nothing then."
"What are you asking?"
"Simply that you wait. Wait until the fever breaks, until I let him go, until he's safe."

Douhna thinks about it for a minute. The face of her friend is pleading with her, not for herself, but for the dragon's life.

"If even the slightest suspicion falls on me... I don't think I can... How long will it take?"

The girl stares at the ground before answering.

"I don't know. I don't understand anything about curing fevers. Maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe two."

Douhna says nothing. Her faces flickers through many emotions and then hardens as she looks down at her son.

"It's not just me."
"I understand."
"I'm going now, but I'll take my time. You'll be able to move him somewhere else. That's all I can offer."
"Thank you. Can you help me with him?"
"I don't think so. No. I'm sorry. Look, afterwards, I'll help however I can. You can't have expected to keep this silent."

She nods and leads her friend to the door. The funeral silence is unbroken as Douhna flees like a scalded cat. The girl then turns and approaches the dragon. She reaches under the bed and unpacks the carefully stored clothing. Getting an incoherent, fevered dragon dressed is not an easy task. She ties the clothes over his bandages and softly coaxes him to his feet. The dragon responds slightly, so she checks his forehead. It's still covered in sweat, but the fiendish heat of before is replaced by a mere toasty fever.

"At least you picked the right time to start feeling better."

She hauls the dragon to his feet and they head toward the door. He manages to grasp the idea of placing one foot in front of the other, but not of balance, so several treasured items are knocked from their perches to smash onto the floor below. Beyond the passage, behind the door, the rain has ceased, but a carpet of mud awaits the two of them. They slip and slide, the girl dropping the dragon on several occasions, until they're a few hours from her home. She collapses against a tree, the dragon gently cradled in her arms.

"Five minutes, then we move on."

Her exhausted body has a different plan. When she rises, so does the sun. Worried, the girl climbs the tree and checks for pursuers.

"No sign. Maybe Douhna changed her mind."

Suddenly hopeful, she leaps down and turns toward her charge, the groaning dragon, who is now rising to his feet. He is still obviously sick, but has regained some of his marbles. Clearing the hair from his eyes, he looks her way and sees before him a gawky, mud-encrusted figure possessed of a ridiculous grace.

"Thank you. You saved me."

The figure says nothing.

"I'm really grateful. How can I repay you?"

His answer is silence and a lonely look from the figure.

"Em, could you say something?"
"..."
"Look"
"..."

He smiles warmly and her heart fills with light.

"I'm really grateful for what you've done for me. I can't remember all of it, but I know that I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you."
"..."

The dragon tries a few more times to elicit some response from the statue and fails. Conscious of the situation he reaches for her hand and takes it, unresisting, in his own.

"I'm really sorry, but I have a vital task to accomplish that was entrusted to me by my lord. I'd like to stay and talk to you, but I have to return to Draqueen, to the dragon castle."

He points vainly in a random direction. The silence from the figure makes him very uneasy and uncomfortable.

"Look, well, I'd better go."

He trudges off, with occasional looks back at the unmoving figure. It is only when he has gone far beyond vision and his scent has entirely dissipated that the figure speaks, with great clarity.

"Hello, my name is Lankmar. Who're you?"

Woohoo. That's over. Don't worry, everything will lighten up at Chapter 4, the Court Martial! Yay!