The Dragon Master's Son 16

Chapter 16

John awoke. It was like waking on any normal day. He didn't feel any different. Maybe death wasn't really that different after all. Maybe death wasn't really the end.

John slowly opened his eyes. Everything he could see was blue. The whole of the horizon was blue. It even had a type of fabric weave. Fabric! John looked a little to the side. Bed posts! Masses of cascading fabric. He wasn't in heaven. He was in the Blue Bedroom.

He tilted his head more to the right. There was the window, the painted shutter open wide and the view of a wooded hillside outside was visible. In the corner of the room, the spot where the little blue chair had been the previous evening was empty. John eased his head to the left and there, sat on a little painted chair, was his mother, smiling.

“Mum.” John's voice emerged as a coarse croak. He placed his hand to his throat and found it intact.

“Try not to speak,” urged his mother. She brought a wooden cup to his lips. The water worked perfectly, soothing and lubricating his hoarse throat.

“How did you get here?” John asked.

“One moment I was hiding in the woods, next moment I felt a queasy, stretching sensation and I suddenly found myself here. You were in the bed, asleep, so I stayed by your side. Are we in the castle?”

John smiled and nodded. Deep inside him, an idea of what had happened began to develop. That he had nearly died and a magical beast had repaired his slit throat. Then the dragon had placed him in his bed and brought his mother to his bedside. John knew he'd see the dragon soon and he resolved to thank the beast and try to repay his debt.

The latch of the bedroom door clicked, startling the two occupants of the room. Through the door came the King and John's father.

“Dad!” John exclaimed, trying to sit up. His father came to his side, taking hold of his hand and placing a hand on his shoulder: encouraging him to remain lying down. King Elfram took a position at the foot of the bed.

“I have just had a conversation,” began the King, “the first of my life, I have to admit, with a dragon.”

John smiled, looking first at his father and then his mother. He had an idea what the King was about to say.

“According to the dragon,” continued the King, “I owe my entire kingdom, and the defeat of two invading armies to you, John.”

“Thank you,” John replied,”but I think you owe more to the dragon than to me.”

“No, thank you John.” The King blushed a little. Again, that likeness to Lujain. “I am currently negotiating a reward with the dragon and in time, we will settle on an adequate reward for you. But, while you're recovering, please stay at the castle as long as you like. My castle is now your home, for as long as you wish it to be.”

After a few more departing words with his parents, the King left the family in peace. John tried to prop himself up on the bed. Both his mother and his father tried to make him lie back down. John took the opportunity of their close proximity to wrap both of his parents in one, large family hug.

By noon, the following day, John was out of bed and found himself hanging around the courtyard, eating an apple, when a group of riders entered the castle. One rider John recognised instantly. She also spotted him. John was by the side of her horse when she dismounted. He was so pleased to see her, he had an over-whelming urge to hug her: but he didn't know if he should. Lujain, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She grabbed John in the strongest, most vice-like hug he'd ever known.

“When did you set off?” he asked.

“Yesterday, about noon,” Lujain replied. “No sooner had we got there, than a messenger arrived saying the war was over and we should return. Where is the King?”

“He's in the Great Hall,” John informed her, “meeting delegates of the Sharm and the Ipeceans. He could be busy for a while yet.” He thought of his pressing need to return to the cavern below the castle. “While you’re waiting for your father to finish his business, could I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

“You may.” A quizzical look crept across Lujain's features.

“Don't worry,” John smiled, “he's really very nice.”

This time, the walk down to the cavern, deep in conversation with Lujain, passed all too quickly. Before he knew it, John was at the foot of the staircase, looking out once more at the huge, dark space beneath the castle. Lujain gapped at the cavern before her.

“I never knew this was down here!”

“It has been here for millions of years, Your Majesty.”

John jumped almost as high as Lujain, at the deep, beautifully enunciated words of the dragon. It was the first time he'd heard the dragon's actual voice: the first time he hadn’t just heard the dragon's thoughts in his head.

As the dragon emerged from its dark lair, John watched Lujain, for the first time, recoil a little. John decided that he should take the lead.

“Good afternoon,” he began briskly. “Can I first of all apologise for not having visited you sooner. I have been recovering in bed.”

“I was aware,” replied the dragon, nodding his head a little in affirmation.

“And,” John continued, “I would like to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for saving my life.”

“You can,” returned the dragon with a smile. “And I would suggest that makes us even.”

John nodded his agreement. He turned to Lujain. Her courage seemed to be returning. It was time for an introduction. “Princess Lujain, this is ...” John stopped. He looked at the dragon a little embarrassed. “I don't actually know your name.”

“No,” agreed the dragon. “It never came up.”

“I'm sorry,” John blushed. “May I ask your name now?”

“You can,” conceded the dragon, “but it would be in my own language and you wouldn't understand it.”

“Still, I'd like to hear it.”

The beast relented, opened its mouth and produced a stream of roared hisses and guttural clicks. John and Lujain were hit by both the sound and the meaty breath of the dragon. When it had finished, the Welsh Red peered superiorly at John.

“See. Not too easy for you to repeat.”

John agreed, but Lujain, regaining her voice, had a suggestion.

“What if, dear dragon, we gave you a name from our language?”

“A human name?” The dragon considered this a short while. “What human name could be noble enough for a dragon?”

Lujain thought a while. “What about,” she offered, “George?”

The dragon lifted his head away, as if the name had a bad smell. “George!” it scoffed. “Who has ever heard of a king called George? I asked for a noble name, and you offer me George!”

The disgust on the dragon's face made John smile. He had a feeling Lujain had touched a raw nerve in the dragon, its pride, and he felt like giving it another tweak. “What about Burt?”

The name was so unpalatable, the dragon almost choked. “Burt!” it coughed. “One more name like that and I will keep my dragon name and be done.”

Lujain, still newly acquainted with the dragon, thought hard. She wasn't ready to upset such a huge creature just yet.

“What about Henry?” she offered meekly.

The dragon silently reflected on the name.

“Henry.” The dragon rolled the name along its forked tongue. “A very good name, my Princess. That shall be my human name from here on.”

“Henry?” Princess Lujain asked. “Could you tell me how the invading armies were defeated, as I have asked John already and I do not believe a word of what he has told me.”

The dragon nodded, asked the two children to sit upon a rock as he recounted the tale of the battles of Bayton and Hepplestone, John's part in the battles and how Crispan's greed for power saw him eventually burnt to a crisp.