The Drake

Kieren wiped the sweat off his face with a blistered hand. It was unrelenting, and he never felt so useless. As if on cue, a deep, guttural scream rang through the forest. He looked up at his cabin at the edge of the woods and sighed. He grabbed another hunk of wood, set it carefully on the stump, raised his heavy axe, and split the wood into two smaller sizes. He brushed them aside and reached for another. He had been chopping wood since before sunrise, and almost all the upcoming winter’s wood was chopped.

Silence rang through the forest as loudly as the screams. Kieren stopped mid-chop and waited. Thank Draco, he thought. For several minutes, he stood with his axe overhead, waiting for another scream, but none came. Relieved, he slowly lowered his axe, leaned it against the stump, rubbed his pine-pitched hands on his red tunic, and brushed back his hair. He took two deep breaths and headed towards the cabin. As he reached for the door latch, another scream filled the air and he stopped.

Hours, minutes, millennia later, the screams quit, and silence remained. One by one, the birds picked up their songs while squirrels scolded them mercilessly. Life at the edge of the forest returned to normal. Kieren again straightened his hair and beard, brushed wood shavings out of his clothing, adjusted his tunic and leather pants, and headed towards the cabin’s door.

Middy Deena stood at the entrance, holding open the cabin door. “Hurry, now. Ye’ll let the heat out.” She bustled him into the cabin and gestured grandly towards the bedstead.

“Come see your babes, Kieren.” Sarah sat propped against the pillows, a bundle in each arm, smiling.

How? He wondered. How does she look so beautiful after the agony she just experienced? “Babes?” He looked dumbly at the two bundles she held. “Well, I guess one of them ain’t a Christmas ham, is it?” His face broke into a grin, and he rushed forward to meet his children.

“We have a girl and a boy, Kieren. One of each!” Sarah placed each bundle on the bed, opening the swaddling. One baby, the girl, was much larger than her brother. “Midwife Deena says our girl was hungry and took all our son's food. She said he was strong, though, for his size. We’ll have to be careful with him until he catches up.

Gingerly, Kieren reached out and stroked his son’s cheek. The boy looked tiny compared to his sister, but he was alert and looking around. His daughter caught his finger immediately and held fast. He chuckled. “Yarr, she is a strong one!”

“Missus, Sir? I go now to fetch Master Javin. Keep the babes warm while I’m gone.”

“Wait,” Kieren stood and stepped towards the midwife. “What for? Why do you send for the Master?”

“Ye knows why, Sir. It must be done. It has always been this way.”

Middy Deena stepped out the door and hurried away. Kieren turned and looked at his wife, who was once again holding both bundles.

“It was supposed to be Adam’s whelp, not ours. The Council said as much at the last meeting.”

“That’s because Mistress Booth was supposed to go abed before me. These two were eager to come out, though. We are next, Kieren. What can we do?” Tears filled her eyes and fell heavily on the swaddling, leaving dots of agony on the babies’ blankets.

“I’ll fetch the axe.” Kieren strode to the door, but Sarah stopped him.

“Nay. You know he won’t come alone. You must talk to him, Kieren. Make The Council see differently. Adam’s young was promised, not ours. They have their hearts steeled for their loss. We’ve had no time to prepare. Tell him that. He likes you. He’ll listen to what you have to say.”

Kieren sat on the old wooden his mother had given them at their wedding. His ma had told him that she had suckled him on that very chair when he had been a babe. He hoped to see his own nestled in his wife’s breasts. He lowered his head into his arms and waited.

Hours later, or maybe it was only minutes, Middy Deena returned with all the members of the Council. Six men surrounded the bed. Six faces looked solemn. They looked over the twins, complimenting the couple on what fine children they had. They gloried in the baby girl’s health and vitality and assured the couple that the smaller, weaker boy would soon catch up. Master Javin smiled down at Sarah. Perhaps he’ll let us keep the babes! Why else would he smile like that? What kind of man offers kind words before taking a child from the breast? Sarah wiped the tears from her face and looked over at Kieren. He, too, looked hopeful.

“A word outside, Kieren?”

The Council surrounded Kieren and led him out with gentle pressure on his back. They walked to the woodshed and huddled together, talking. Sarah couldn’t hear what was being said, of course, but she could see that Kieren was gesturing in short, staccato movements with his hands. He looked to be restraining himself. The Council, however, made soothing gestures in return. Something they said made Kieren’s demeanor change. He looked up at them, wiping his face, a bit of hope in his eyes.

“Mistress?” Sarah turned her attention to the Middy.

“Yes?”

“Let me see to the babes. They need cleaning.” She took the boy child first. The midwife bathed him in a bowl on the table, wrapped him in a square of cloth as a diaper, then swaddled him in a small blanket. She returned him to his mother, then took the girl child.

Sarah looked down at her son, marveling at his thick hair that curled slightly as it dried. He was no larger than a sack of flour that had already given up a few loaves of bread. Half that weight looked to be in hair alone. She was so enamored by her newborn that she didn’t notice, at first, when the front door opened. She noticed, though, when the other half of the cabin became silent. She looked up and saw that Middy Deena was gone, as was the baby. Surely, she did not take the babe outside to get wood! Sarah pushed herself up and to a full sitting position and looked out the window to the woodshed. Kieren was still there, as was the Council, and it seemed as if they were still arguing. Middy was nowhere in sight. Sarah glanced to the rocker where Middy had tossed her heavy shawl when she had entered and saw the shawl and gloves were gone. She sat up further, up on her knees, and looked out the other window. She was just in time to see the midwife’s hunched-back scuttle between the trees. She was going into the forest.

Sara screamed.

Kieren heard his wife’s cries and pushed past the men of the Council and rushed to the cabin. He threw open the door.

“What? What is it?” He looked around, expecting to see something amiss, but couldn’t make out why his wife was crying.

“Middy Deena took our girl. She went into the forest.” Sarah gestured to the window.

Kieren ran to the window and peered out. He couldn’t see the woman, but he saw her footprints in the mud. The season’s first snow had fallen the night before but had melted with the morning sun, leaving mud in its wake. He could easily see where the midwife was going. Turning towards the door, he saw the men of the Council blocking his way.

“Let her go, Kieren.” Their voices and postures were calm, reasonable. “We let you keep one. One was promised, and one he will get.”

Kieren sank to the floor. There was no use fighting. These men were farmers and loggers, all strong and ready for a fight. He could do nothing alone. He looked at his wife in defeat.

“Couldn’t you–,“ Sarah stopped. She knew a proper mother would never think that way. She buried her face in her newborn son’s blankets and whispered, “I’m sorry, Son.“

“Couldn’t we have taken the boy instead? Yes, he’s weaker. The girl looked strong and healthy. How would it look, though, to gift Draco with a sickly child while the healthy one stayed in his mother’s arms? We have taken too many liberties of late, and we have all suffered from it. Winter will come and go all too soon, and planting season comes quickly. We need to make peace with Draco.” Master Javin sat on the edge of the bed. Sarah pulled her remaining child out of his reach, turning her back to the elder. “I’m done taking from you, Sarah. You have done your part, and that will be noted in the books. You never have to give again. Your son is small, yes, but with tender care and love, he may yet grow into a man, and all the other kids made here in your family will be free from becoming Draco’s gift.”

Master Javin walked to Kieren, still crumpled on the floor, and bent to help him to his feet. “Can I trust you will stay in the cabin? I know you can track Middy through the woods if that is your intent, but if you do, we may all die. You can’t risk the entire village starving if more fields burn. We are your kinfolk and neighbors. You must see the greater good. Go to your good wife and comfort her. You still have a child, and he needs you both strong and hale to survive.”

Kieren nodded. He sank onto the bed next to his wife and tried to hold her, but she turned away from him, too. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His whispers went unanswered.

Master Javin gestured for the other men to join him at the door. He whispered to the youngest of the group, who pulled a chair over by the door and sat down. The rest gathered their hats and gloves and headed out of the cabin.

Kieren glared at his ‘guard’, put on his jacket, and went back out to the woodshed. Slowly, with bones that ached as much as his pa’s had before he died, he bent and started stacking the wood. It looked like the snow would be back, and they needed to keep their cabin warm for his son.

Middy Deena hurried through the woods, resolute in her task. Though it had snowed the night before, the sun was up and the air was warming. She kept her bundle closed tightly, however. She needed the babe to be strong and healthy when they got to the slab. She knew the Council would keep Kieren in check, but she hurried, nonetheless. This was dark business; necessary, yet still dark. The deeper she went into the woods, the harder her path became. Branches reached out at her skirts and tore the fabric. They ripped her shawl from around her shoulders. She tucked her head and kept moving. “Leave me be, Lord Trees. Ye know this must be done.”

The forest grew colder as she traveled deeper, but she knew the cold was not from the shade or the weather. It was a cold that reached from beyond the snow. Deena shuffled from shadow to shadow as quickly as possible, pausing only to gather sprigs of winter berries, bright red against the winter snow, wanting to get the deed done before nightfall. Finally, she arrived at the altar.

In a clearing, deep in the woods, was a circle of aspen trees. In the center of the circle was a slab of stone, perfectly flat on top, and large enough to easily hold a small cabin. Deena set the baby on the slab and gathered pine needles from outside the ring. She carefully re-wrapped the baby tightly, leaving a thin panel of cloth over her face to keep the worst of the biting winds off the girl’s delicate cheeks. She laid the baby on the bed of pine needles, then surrounded her with the berry sprigs. She bit into a berry and released its deep red juice and used that to draw the sigil of the dragon on the babe’s forehead. It was crude and lacked artistic value, but it would do.

The midwife waited for the baby to fall asleep before quietly leaving the clearing. She didn’t want to hear the baby cry as she walked away. It went against everything she was to ignore a child’s cries of distress. She had been helping the village’s children enter the world for better than half a century. It hurt her to do this but do this she must.

Old and hunched over as she was, Deena made good time leaving the forest.

The newborn slept peacefully, wrapped in her warm blankets, unaware of when the snow began to fall and lightly kiss her cheeks.

Brawd flew silently over the forest, his wings outstretched as he glided. The townsfolk had been stirring, and one had wandered into his forest. He knew that could mean only one thing. Far in the distance, his eyes picked out the small dot of a person hurrying back towards town, having just stepped out of the woods. He circled and waited until the woman–he could see now–had shrunken from his vision. He landed near the stone table clearing and slowly approached the bundle left on the slab. He dropped his head in sorrow. Another one, he thought. Not another one.

He made his way carefully to the altar, not wanting to startle the infant. He peered at the baby’s face. “You’re brand new, aren’t you?” Gently he gathered the bundle into his mouth, careful to keep his teeth well away from the delicate flesh, rose into the air, and flew back to his lair, deep in the hills north of town. It grew colder the higher he flew, but he knew it would matter not to the infant. The heat from his mouth would keep the baby warm.

It didn’t take long to reach his home. His family waited for him, as they always did and always would. He did not bring back sheep or goats for dinner, however; instead, he brought another child.

He entered his cave and gently placed the baby on the floor by his wife, Meddyg. He nuzzled his children in greeting, then turned to his mate.

“Oh, Brawd, not another one!” She tutted as she leaned forward to get a better look in the bundle. “I don’t understand how any creature could toss away their young.”

“They’re ignorant, primitive. They think they are doing their people a good deed.” He curled up next to his wife.

“Why do they think you can control their crops?”

“We’ve been over this, Meddyg. They think me a god.”

“You need to convince them otherwise.” She carefully pulled at the baby’s blankets with her claws to get a better look.

“You know I’ve tried, Meddyg. Last year I burned half their fields, and they still leave me this gift. This is a healthy child, too, not like the others they’ve left.”

“They probably believe their ‘god’ was angry and are trying to make amends. What are we going to do?”

Brawd sighed. What could they do? “You think I should have left it there, left it to the wolves.”

“You’re much too kind, Brawd. I know you couldn’t leave it, any more than you would leave any other helpless being. How are we going to help this one, though? It looks healthy and strong, not like the ones before. It may take her longer to starve. Her suffering will be that much harder to watch. You know they won’t drink my milk.”

“Will you try, anyway?”

“Of course, but–“

“What? What is it, Meddyg?”

Meddyg turned to look directly at her husband. “I know we’re not supposed to interfere. I know we’re supposed to leave the village alone, but what if you took the child back to them? Maybe they would understand that you don’t want their sacrifices.”

Brawd was already shaking his enormous head, the greens and purples of his scales catching in the moonlight that streamed into the cave opening. “I did that once before, remember? The humans wouldn’t touch it. I just hope it had been dead by the time the dogs got to it.” He shuddered. The sound of the little body being torn by those beasts still haunted him at night.

He had taken the baby back to the village center in the middle of the night. He laid the child in the town square, then roared to awaken the townsfolk. When Brawd could see candles lit in the windows, he took to the air silently and watched from a distance. Men, still pulling on their suspenders, gathered around the baby. The wind brought the sounds of the men arguing about what should happen. Finally, it was decided, and one by one, the men filed back into their homes. One man had stayed behind, looking down at the bundle on the ground, not moving. Another came back out into the night, turned the man around, and led him to his home. That must be the child’s father. Brawd couldn’t understand the ability to walk away from any child lying in the frosty night, but less one’s own. He shook his head and waited. He hoped someone in the village would step back out into the night and take the freezing child into the warmth of their home, but that never happened. The dogs had come, instead.

“Go to another village, then. Bring one of them here. Maybe you can find a young female to take care of it here. You know there will be more. If we had a human here to care for these children . . .”

“Bring a human to our lair? And what if she leaves and brings others here? What then? They’ll hunt us down, kill our young. They’ll think there is treasure here!”

“You’re right, husband. It’s too big of a risk. Find a goat, then. Get one from the farms outside of town, one the humans use for milk. Bring it here, and the babe can drink from her. Maybe we can keep this one alive.”

“And then what? Raise a human child?”

“Yes. We raise it and teach it that we are not gods, that the time of myths is gone. When it is old enough, it can go and tell the villagers to stop killing their young in our name.”

“That just might work. Meddyg, you are beautiful and wise. I’ll return by morning with a goat. Sleep now. Tell the children that when I return, the goat I bring will not be their meal. I will bring more afterward.”

And that is how 4 dragons, a baby, and a goat came to live together in a cave deep in the forest.