The Dragon Master's Son 10

Chapter 10

John stood in the Great Hall. It was obviously the Great Hall. It was the largest room in the castle and possibly the biggest room he'd ever seen. A number of the castle servants were clearing the tables and benches to the side of the room and sweeping the floor. Evidently, John had missed breakfast. He'd guessed as much. When he had finally woken, daylight had been streaming into his room through the shuttered window.

Initially, John failed to gain anyone's attention in the Great Hall. Finally, he gained the attention of a servant by standing in the man's way. The servant drew to a halt and looked irritably at John.

“Uh,” he grunted.

“Could you tell me where I could get some breakfast, please?”

“Breakfast finished ages ago.”

“I know,” John continued politely, “But I wasn't here. Where could I find some food now, please?”

The servant reached down and plucked a chunk of partially eaten bread from the floor. He gave it to John, along with a number of pieces of straw that were attached to it.

“And where can I find Princess Lujain, please?”

The servants jaw dropped slightly, but he soon recovered his natural demeanour.

“She's out on 'er 'orse. Maybe you should try the stables?”

John followed the servant’s directions down to the central courtyard, picking off the straw and eating his piece of bread. The courtyard was smaller than John remembered, barely big enough for the two empty wagons and the horse trough that stretched along one wall. The internal walls of the castle loomed high on all sides, making the space feel even more confined. On the far side of the courtyard was a huge doorway. Through it, two men were throwing soiled straw with their pitchforks. The unmistakable stench of horses hung in the air around them.

“Good morning. Where could I find Princess Lujain?” John asked. The men looked him over with suspicion.

“Who are you?” asked the larger man, holding his pitchfork in a threatening manner.

“John.”

The man's face broke into a smile. “She set off half an hour ago. But she left instructions for you.” He turned and indicated to his friend, who disappeared into the stables. The man soon reappeared with a saddled horse.

John pointed at the horse. “Who's that for?”

“She said to put you on it.”

Two minutes later, John found himself, through no choice of his own, sitting on a horse. He knew he wasn't far off the ground but it looked a long way down. Fear was beginning to squirm in his stomach.

“What do I do?” John's voice shook with growing alarm at the situation he found himself in. “I've never ridden a horse before.”

“Don't worry,” laughed the man, as he slapped the horses flank. “The horse knows where he's going.”

John held onto the reigns as if his life depended on it. The horse jolted violently backwards and forwards as it made its way across the hard cobbles. With each beat of his heart, John's fear was pushed further round his petrified body. The horse continued out through the gateway and over the lowered drawbridge. John bumped rigidly up and down in the saddle, a very reluctant passenger. The horse trotted along the road that John had travelled along to the castle the previous day. He passed through the thatched houses that surrounded the castle: past the ironmongers, past the wheelwrights, out beyond the edge of town and into the forest beyond. Here, the horse stepped off the road and onto a track that led through the woods. John didn't complain, or even say a word. He just let the horse lead the way and concentrated on not falling off.

'Dragon Master.' The beast's voice was there again, once more in his head. John concentrated on holding firmly to the reigns. 'Why have you deserted me, Dragon Master?'

“I haven't deserted you,” John responded, ducking under a branch, “I'm just a bit busy.”

'Come to me,' the dragon demanded. John felt the queasy, stretching sensation once more in his stomach. The horse sensed it too, for it quickened its pace, bouncing John higher and more painfully into the air. He landed with a thump on the hard, stone floor of the cavern below the castle.

'Did you enjoy your ride?'

John looked up at the dragon. The Welsh Red was actually smiling. “Not really. How did you know I was riding?”

'Because I know everything. Because I hear everything. Every word, every thought. But why did you desert me?'

“What do you mean?” The dragon’s accusation stung John. “I didn't desert you.”

'You haven't spoken to me for hours. Not a word since the flight.'

“I've been asleep.”

'Ah,' the dragon nodded, 'The human disease.'

“Don't you sleep?”

The dragon looked at John with its tired, yellow eyes and sighed a laboured breath. 'I hear every word,' the beast repeated, 'Every thought of every person, every creature in the area around the castle. All those voices, those thoughts, are like a constant buzzing in my brain. Like a swarm of bees nesting in my head. So no, I do not sleep.'

“But I was in the woods, at least a mile or two away.”

'If I concentrate on one known voice, then I can hear it plainly over hundreds of miles. And your thoughts just now were pretty loud.'

John smiled. “I bet they were. Anyway, why did you want me?”

The dragon, for the first time since the boy had known it, winced and showed sign of being in pain. 'I could do with your help.'

The dragon inclined his head to the right. It was then that John noticed the pool of purple liquid by the dragon's flank. He bent down and touched it. It was sticky and glutinous, like blood. John moved round to the side, so he could better view the dragon's flank. Along the side of the beast's belly ran a three foot long gash. From it, rhythmically, pumped the purple blood.

“What happened?” John gasped.

'I told you,' the dragon replied, 'I'm old. On our flight, I came across a younger, aggressive male dragon. It seems that this is his territory and he didn't like me flying here. So he made sure I didn't come back.' The dragon's voice began to grow faint.

“What can I do?” John asked. He'd healed rabbits and fish before, but never a dragon.

'I'll show you,' said the dragon and the boy listened as the dragon taught him the charm and improved his technique. The dragon was an excellent teacher and John soon set to work, healing the scar along the beast's side.

An hour later, John stepped back, exhausted, and looked at the dragon's side. It was as if the wound had never been there.

'Finished?' asked the dragon.

“I think so,” John answered, “It looks alright. How does it feel?”

'Tender,' smiled the Welsh Red, 'but I shall survive. Thanks to you.'

A thought struck John. “Wait. You taught me the charm. You could have repaired the wound yourself!”

The dragon's yellow eyes stared quizzically at the boy, then a light of realisation illuminated its features. 'So, your mother didn't get round to telling you. You can heal others, Dragon Master, but you can't heal yourself. That is why we dragons die. We may be powerfully magical, but we are also solitary. If we receive any serious wounds, we generally die from them or bleed to death.'

The dragon raised its head a little, as if better to hear. 'Thank you,' it said, as if to someone else, then the dragon turned to John. 'Your horse informs me that the princess is approaching. I must return you to the land of men.'

Before he could reply, John found himself back in the woods, behind a tree, while the horse stood quietly in the clearing, clipping the grass with its large teeth.

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