Saturday, August 18, 2018

Serial Saturday: "The Dragon's Mark" Part 1 (Continued)


Part 1 (Continued)


Nadia felt the thick clouds gathering closer around them, obscuring her vision and making it hard to breathe.

The Goth chieftain paid no heed, his eyes squinting to peer through the mass, to see what lay beyond it.

“Come, you infernal beast,” he muttered. “Show thyself!”

Nadia felt the faintness dancing around her ears. As slowly as it had seeped into the valley, the roll of fog now eased itself back, disclosing more and more of the deep-black peat, interrupted by clumps of verdant, lush grass, and an ashy crater at its center. There was something large there, something that moved—something dangerous. Nadia had never felt so naked and vulnerable. Every instinct within her screamed at her to run, to escape, to never lay eyes on whatever horror inhabited the moor.

Gabbaldur had no such inhibitions.
“WELL?” He roared at the massive shadow just beyond the edge of the crater with its layer of smog. “I’VE COME FOR MY SON, VILE SERPENT! COME OUT AND FACE ME!”

Nadia couldn’t stand it any longer. She flopped indecorously off the horse’s back, the soft loam muffling the sound of her dismount. Just when she turned her back on her captor, she felt Gabbaldur’s rough hand on her wrist.

“And whither thou goest, fair lady?” He growled at her, yanking her back toward him. The cloud of smog had just begun to pull away from the edges of the crater. “I have not given thee a proper introduction! Forsooth!” He returned to address the Dragon, now in Latin, as most countries had adapted to communicate with the Roman Empire. “I have brought before thee thy Bride, to exchange for my son! See the Ring she—“ He stopped when he saw her empty fingers, turning upon her with such a stare, she feared he might break her hand. “What hast thou done, wench?” He growled, pulling her close so he could reach her other hand.

Nadia’s fear came out in ragged, gasping sobs.

Where is it?” bellowed the Goth. “Where is the infernal ring you swore would never leave your hand unless your hand left your body?”

Nadia couldn’t form words, but she saw The Thing rise from the fog over Gabbaldur’s shoulder, and she screamed in terror.

Gabbaldur whirled around as the mighty Midnight Dragon spread its wings and landed in the valley, just a few meters away from them. Though Gabbaldur towered over most people, he barely reached the first joint on the Dragon’s foreleg.

“What is your intention, small man?” the Dragon rumbled. “Why do you invade my solitude?”

Nadia cowered at the grand, rolling sounds of its voice, but Gabbaldur was too incensed heed the warning.

“Why? You dare question me, foul monster? I have come to relieve thee of my son, whom you stole from me, and I demand thee release him unharmed!” He turned back to Nadia and hauled her upright. “See? I have brought with you the last of the Drakistos family—and she is one of the Brides, no less! Take your Bride, Dragon, and let my son go free!”

“The boy is your son?” The Dragon bent its head closer to the irate man. “I found the fool wandering the hillside, too intoxicated to stand, so ignorant that he would infringe upon forbidden lands and raise arms against me—he is rightfully my prisoner.” The Dragon tilted its head to inspect Nadia a little closer. “This woman bears no resemblance to the one with the power to return me to my proper place. She does not bear The Ring.”

VERILY, I SWEAR BY MY LIFE THAT SHE BORE IT WHEN I CARRIED HER WITH ME FROM HER VERY STRONGHOLD!” Gabbaldur’s face was a dark, angry purple when he drew his knife and pressed it against Nadia’s neck. “If thou wilt not yield me my son,” he rasped, “I shall end her life, here and now. Then there will be no more Brides, none of the Drakistos line, and you will perish by the hand of men!”

The Dragon hissed, and two thin jets of smoke issued from its nostrils. “You would not dare slay an innocent woman in my presence,” it warned.

“By this hand, I will!” Gabbaldur howled in return, spitting in the Dragon’s direction. “I shall kill her, and I shall gather every last member of my clan, and when I return, I will kill you!”

Nadia whimpered at the edge of his knife. She tried to ease her neck out of harm’s way, but he held her too close. The dragon did not respond to the threat. The last remaining heir of Drakistos took advantage of the silence to plead.

“Chief Gabbaldur, don’t do this!” she begged softly. “Please, I’ll do anything! Please, just don’t kill me—“

“Silence, woman!” He returned his attention to her with a vengeance. The blade of the knife sliding across her throat caught against her skin, drawing a small bead of blood. “Thou art in a hell of thy own making, and so help me, I shall have my recompense for it!” He dropped her in a heap, and she clutched the hem of her toga against the wound to staunch it.
“Well?” Gabbaldur challenged the dragon yet again. “Is he in there or not? By the gods, if you’ve done injury to my poor son—“

The dragon jerked its head back, causing the chieftain to flinch and stop in the midst of his words—but the action wasn’t intended for Gabbaldur. Instead, the Midnight Dragon reached into the crater behind it, and pulled out a small, dirty bundle. The dragon released the bundle with the same amount of gentleness as the Goth used with Nadia. She saw it land, saw the pale hand on the edge of it, and when she took that hand, the head tilted up: Gabbaldur’s son, alive and well—and positively scared sober.

“Sigmund!” the big man gasped, but he’d only taken one step when the Dragon commanded, “Come no closer!”
The massive claw stamped down between the Goth chieftain and the two captives.

“To shed innocent blood has dire consequences, be it human, or otherwise,” The Midnight Dragon said to Gabbaldur. “You have shown yourself to be a cruel, greedy man—so now here is the consequence of your foolish actions.”

Reaching out a single claw, the Midnight Dragon gently brushed the outstretched arms of both Nadia and Sigmund, leaving behind a raw, red mark that burned deep into their skin. The pair cried out, while Gabbaldur could only pace like an angry bear. Finally, the Dragon lifted its claw, and Gabbaldur immediately dropped to his son’s side, looking at the angry scar that now marred his skin.

“What did ye do to them?” the chieftain asked.

“I have Marked them both,” the Midnight Dragon stated, “to preserve their lives. Both of these children now possess immortality, but it comes with a price. Over time, they will begin to develop scales as a sign of their immortality, and these scales will be impervious to disease, to piercing, to heat, and to cold. When the scales cover their bodies, they will fall asleep, and in that sleep, the scales will release, renewing the body underneath, and when they awaken, the cycle will begin anew.”

Gabbaldur stared at his son, almost afraid to touch him now. “You foul creature! You’ve cursed my son!”

Nadia inhaled slowly, fighting to find her voice. “Please,” she murmured softly. “This is a reward, but the punishment is too great—is there no provision, or must we both carry scales in the presence of others?”

The Dragon regarded her for a moment, and then, bending low, it breathed gently over both of them. “Because I do not punish the innocent with the guilty,” it stated, “It will be that only the Dragon-Marked can see the scales. They will be invisible to any others, and thus I can remain in secret until the Ring is recovered.” The Midnight Dragon unfurled his wings and leaned upright. “My time upon this place is at an end. I will travel the distance of time and space, and we will meet again, Sigmund Gabbaldurson, when a descendant of Drakistos recovers the Ring. Only then will this curse be lifted, and only the heir of Drakistos will be able to open the portal between our worlds. Until then, if I am killed by anyone who does not bear the Ring, or if the Ring is discovered and used by one who is not of your lineage, then those upon which the Dragon Mark falls will die. Heed my warning!”

A rush of wind threatened to knock the Goth chieftain over, but he shielded his face with his cloak. When the wind died, he raised his eyes.

The Midnight Dragon had vanished, and he’d taken the Bride of Drakistos with him.

NO!!” Gabbaldur roared, as Sigmund staggered to his feet. “Curse you, Dragon! Curse your slimy, belly-crawling, fire-spewing—“

“Father!” Sigmund interrupted. “Why are you so angry? He spared our lives—“

“And he has taken with him the only one able to lift our curse!” Gabbaldur spluttered in his son’s face. “You fool, don’t you know? Even if we were to find the Ring, she is the only one who can wield it! He has departed with the only leverage we have, and left us with simply a curse, and a tool that none of us can use!”

Sigmund sighed, rubbing the last aches from his head. “At the very least, we have this land, Father; we can find the Ring—or if one of the clan does, they will be obligated to yield it to us.”

Gabbaldur ceased his fuming, and stared at his son. 
“You speak truth, Sigmund,” he said slowly. “The Drakistos land is now our land—so why not take the name as well? If the Bride returns to claim her family’s land, we can just demand that she lift the curse before we yield to her. If she does not come, then what is to stop us from finding the Ring, and making one of our Drakistos heirs lift the curse?” The longer he considered the idea, the more Gabbaldur began to see hope in this new plan. “This is the oath I swear, Sigmund, and you will be my witness!” He drew his dagger across his arm, releasing a small trickle of blood to seal the promise. 

“Henceforth, we shall be known as the Drakistos clan, and should any of my descendants encounter the one who claims her place as the True Bride of Drakistos, they shall not refuse her request, or they will be cast out from the family forever!”

From that day forward, Gabbaldur’s clan migrated to the forests of Sithonia, and established themselves there. They took the name Drakistos, and though many people scoured the land for many years, they did not find the Ring. Gabbaldur died in battle, and Sigmund took his place as the head of the Drakistos family. 

Still, the Bride did not appear, though they waited, watched, and searched.
Some began to wonder if she ever existed at all.
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