<html> <body> Major revelation in this part. Healing Wounds in Arabarb By Charles Matthias Gmork's admonition that the spell keeping Lindsey a boy was making him more and more childlike was something he could no longer deny. In fact, when Gmork had first crowed about it, salivating with those ever shifting jaws, Lindsey had known it was true. How often had he slipped into childish behaviors and delights? Had he not delighted in Pharcellus's stories? Had he not tried skipping stones near the quays? Had he not been savaged by fear, misery, and the tears that only a child could shed? He'd even begun thinking of Pharcellus as his older brother and not just pretending. And now chained to a wall in a room with the despicable Baron Garadan Calephas and his simpering and slavish tiger with the dead body of a twisted and tortured child hidden beneath a carpet, the reality of his regression was only becoming plainer and fouler. While Calephas busied himself at the long table, mixing elixirs and other strange unguents that tickled his nose with sulfurous and stale odors, Weaker watched him with dead eyes. That nearly soulless stare brought to mind horrors they'd faced in the swamps of Marzac. But then he'd been a man with an axe in hand and companions at his side. Now he was a child with nothing at all. And the last child that had been chained to this wall was dead and used as cushioning for Calephas leisure. Lindsey curled his eyes away and tried to think of something, anything, that might give him strength. Nothing. Not even some memory of the kangaroo. What made it worse was that Calephas didn't even bother talking to him after his promise to murder him once he was done with him. He just mixed his potions, tapped the glass, swirled them together, and studied the little tray with his blood in it. Drops of that were added to a small beaker which was then heated over a candle. By the time they heard the shuffling gait and the rattle of chains approaching down the hallway outside, that fluid had turned a crisp gray in hue. Calephas turned to see who was approaching, and Weaker let his focus turn to the open doorway, but it was just the Lutin Yajgaj returning with an old man whose hands were chained in front of him. Lindsey, eyes fixed on the floor, noted that the Lutin seemed to guide the man into the room with a odd diffidence, almost carefulness, as if he cared about the prisoner's well being. But that oddity was dismissed when Lindsey lifted his eyes to see who this man was. Through the grimy and unkempt beard and mass of reddish hair graying at the edges, Lindsey saw a pair of eyes hard and bitter yet full of a strength and a goodness he had longed for. He stared at those eyes for nearly a second before the crisp blue orbs became familiar to him. Lindsey's fears fled him in a single moment of elation as he shouted, “Father!” The man snapped his head toward him with a sudden gape. Calephas blinked and smiled in hideous triumph. The Lutin fumbled his guisarme and took a step back into the doorway and was gone. Alfwig, his voice sturdy but unsure, asked, “Who are you, boy? I... I should know you, but...” Lindsey realized he'd already said too much and swallowed. Calephas laughed and grabbing the man's shoulder with one hand, kicked him behind the knees, toppling him to the stone floor. “Tell him,” Calephas said with a vicious snarl. “Or I'll stab him through the throat and drench you in his blood.” He cried and shook his head. “It's me, Father! It's your Lhindesaeg!” Alfwig's eyes widened in shock as he hid the pain from Calephas's blow. “Lhindesaeg! But I thought you'd become a man? What are you doing here?” “Trying to kill me,” Calephas replied. “He failed. Now, like you, Alfwig, he's mine.” “Let him go!” Alfwig snarled over his shoulder. He lifted his chained hands and smacked them against his shoulder where the Baron's hand had been only moments before. “Don't think this chain will keep me from killing you.” Calephas took another step back, while Weaker approached, growling and hissing with claws extended. Alfwig glared at the feline. “Or you either.” “You aren't going to kill anyone,” Calephas chided with such calm assurance Lindsey had a hard time not believing him and trembling from it. “Weaker, show the old man what happened to the last boy.” Calephas backed and in a wide circle moved around the rear of the room and grabbed the large hammer while the tiger bent over and dragged the carpet off the crushed and deformed child. It was difficult to tell just what it was, a blend of reptilian and human features in so complicated and bizarre a form that it didn't even look like it could have been alive at one time. But Alfwig still trembled at the sight, and his eyes darkened further. “Raping them isn't good enough for you anymore?” The Baron scowled without anger. “I am so close to achieving my goal. You are going to help me, Alfwig. Or I will crush Lhindesaeg's hands. The left one first.” He stepped closer to the boy and tapped the end of the hammer against Lindsey's exposed hand. Lindsey swallowed and tried to keep his gaze on his father. How he wished those strong arms would break his chains and rescue him from this nightmare. But Alfwig didn't move from where he knelt, hands flexing and wrapping around the chains binding his arms together. The tiger Weaker had moved around behind him, and with lashing tail, kept a close eye on him, claws at the ready to tear into his back. Alfwig noted him with a perfunctory glance over his shoulder, then returned his attention on the Baron. “What do you want?” “I have captured your son. I have taken a sample of his blood.” Calephas gestured with a nod of his head toward the table and the assorted potions. “It's stronger than either of ours, Alfwig. I've never been able to get you to explain why you have such blood. Now you are going to tell me, and you are going to tell me why Lhindesaeg's is even stronger. Or I crush limbs.” “Stronger?” Lindsey asked, for a brief moment more curious than frightened. “My blood?” Alfwig sighed faintly and nodded. “For now, Baron. I've kept this secret from Lhindesaeg long enough. I'll tell him.” His eyes, full of gentleness and a terrible sorrow met the boy and held him tight as if they were arms. “Lhindesaeg, I love you dearly. I loved you as my daughter. I loved you when you went to Metamor to help. I loved you even when your letters told us you were a man. I love you now. I can see you in the boy before me. You are my child again. I am your father. But... “But Elizabaeg is not your mother.” Lindsey blinked at this and his mouth opened and his tongue blubbered incoherently for a few seconds before he managed, “She's not my mother?” “No. Your real mother... I met her bathing in a forest stream. She'd been watching me for some time, and knew that I would pass that way on my hunt. She waited for me. I... I was enraptured by her, by her beauty.” His eyes took on a faraway cast and he sighed, this time with regret. One of his hands began stroking his beard, wrapping the hair as if he were going to braid it again. “I had no idea who she was, but I was smitten. For six months she stayed in my cottage, our cottage. She left from time to time, but always returned with the little white mountain flowers. With them she made the most delicate of wreaths. And her singing, the sweet melodies...” Alfwig closed his eyes and took a long deep breath as if he were hearing her voice and smelling her flowers. Lindsey felt lost, almost impatient to know who this woman really was. Calephas listened with an amused smirk on his face, but kept his grip on the hammer firm and steady. “And then one day, she was gone.” Alfwig let out a long breath and let the chain dangle across the floor at his knees. “And when she left, I wept for days. But when I stopped, it was as if whatever her presence had done to me was gone. I had known Elizabaeg for many years, and only a month after I was calling upon her again. I knew I loved her, and I hadn't stopped loving her even when your mother was with me. Within three months I obtained her father's permission, and shortly thereafter we were wed.” Lindsey felt confused now. How could this other woman be her mother if she'd left and he'd married Elizabaeg? “We were married for five months when she returned to me.” His face tightened with pain and a horrible longing. “I woke early that morning. It was Summer. The grass was wet with dew, and the sky bright with a high sun peaking over the mountains and casting everything in green and gold. Sitting on the rock by the lake was she, your mother. A very carefully wrapped basket was at her side. I came to her, overwhelmed with joy. Even the birds seemed to be brighter in their song.” Alfwig licked his lips. “She apologized to me, admitted that she had deceived me. She had watched me from afar for some time, though I had not known it. And she had fallen in love with me, even though it was not permitted. And so she'd come with her son to see that the child we had would be with me. And that's when she handed me the basket and made me promise to send her son back to her. She told me I would know when.” Calephas ground his teeth together, and the tiger's ears turned as if he were actually listening. Lindsey could, for a brief moment, almost forget that he was chained to a wall and under the power of the despicable Baron, so intent was he on his father's tale. “She waited while I opened the basket. To my surprise it was not a child. But an egg. When I looked up, the woman, the amazing and sensuous and majestic woman was gone. In her place a mighty dragon. She bowed her head low, her long neck covered in gray and purple scales, before she leaped into the air, nearly knocking me over with the beat of her wings. She ascended into the mountains and was lost to sight. “But coming out of the forest was another dragon, smaller this time, but the same gray scales, with red ridges and a youthful enthusiasm. He introduced himself as her son and promised he would help look after my child.” He lifted his eyes to Lindsey and smiled ever so faintly. “Yes, Pharcellus is your half-brother. One month later you hatched from that egg, both human and dragon. Pharcellus left and returned with his mother and yours. She cast a spell on you so that you would be human in appearance. I told Elizabaeg everything and she promised never to speak of it and to help raise you as our own. And that is why your name is Lhindesaeg, after the great Lhinnorm, the dragons of the mountains. And that is why your blood is stronger than mine.” Lindsey gaped, mind reeling from every word. He felt as if he were going to tip back and tumble away into a spinning vortex. His mother was a dragon? He hatched from an egg? Then those egg shells he found in Father's secret treasure box, were they his? Is that why both Pharcellus and Elizabaeg seemed so sad when he mentioned them? And then, as the darkness spun, these questions swirling into a maddening cacophony, one final question percolated through the miasma to latch into his brain and beat it into putrefied jelly. Who am I? This single question, ricocheting from synapse to synapse obliterated all that was real around him. The room with its cold, gray walls receded into the distance until they were lost in a shadowy mass that had no substance. His father and Weaker, melded into an orange and red smear as they dwindled into insignificance and then vanished like a star winking out. Calephas, his face triumphant and twisted, passed away to his side until he merged with the blackness, a midnight sepulcher entombing all that was not an answer to the question. He tumbled, but without frame of reference, Lindsey could gauge nothing. Who was he? Born of man and dragon, what did that make him? Hatched like a reptile, his true mother someone and something he'd never met. Elizabaeg, she who he'd always called mother, she who had raised him and loved him dearly, had known his origins but had said nothing. All of Lindsey's life had been lived under a false assumption. Who am I? A flash of light surrounded him and Lindsey found himself laying on soft earth, swaying cypresses with dangling limbs, bright colors, and broad ferns filling a clearing. Lindsey stood, spectral in form as he gazed across the expanse at a dozen golden horses, their green eyes boring intently at him. The Rheh Talaran! And in rich panoply of scintillating light, as if each and every being were fashioned from finely wrought crystal, each Rheh came forward one at a time, and one of Lindsey's friends stepped forward to meet them. First the ancient one, Qan-af-årael, resplendent in his sky-hued garments, approaching the most humble of all the Rheh. Goodbye ancient one, the star’s child. They came together and their light suffused until they were an indistinguishable pillar of vernal splendor. Lindsey gaped as they leaped into the sky to streak across the horizon like a falling star rising to the heavens. Into the middle of the clearing stepped with magisterial grace and hopping with studious dignity came Zhypar Habakkuk and the Rheh who'd born him. Lindsey reached out an arm and tried to cry out his name but his long face was ever fixed upon the steed of ancient lore. Goodbye man who knows, fate divine. Zhypar stretched out one arm, his clawed fingers brushing the Rheh's nose, and then the two of them vanished into the brilliant sky. Lindsey's eyes should hurt but everything was so stark and visceral he couldn't, as if he were witnessing true life for the first time. Kayla the skunk came forward and met her Rheh. Those words that were the ethos of sensation sounded in his heart. Goodbye strength in love, strike with might. And then they too vanished into the sky. Then came Jerome the Sondecki, the stout figure with auburn hair, hawk-like nose and crisp goatee. He bore the black frock of his order and seemed to hold it tight as if he were afraid some harm would come to it. Goodbye strong and mild, never wild. Lindsey felt dizzy as he watched, trying to look to see where his friends came from, but it was as if they proceeded from the very air. James the donkey, the one who slew Krenek Zagrosek despite crushing fear, approached the Rheh with the bell-shaped white mark on his forehead. Goodbye bell’s death cry, balm for mourn. And then he too vanished in a spire of glory. Following on his hooves was the younger Åelf, Andares-es-sebashou. His pearl-handled blade was crossed before his chest and he knelt in front of the golden stallion with docile adoration in his features. Goodbye eager son, know the night. Lindsey trembled, trying to turn any direction but this as the number of Rheh dwindled one by one. Before them flew Jessica, who landed and stared, only a simple hawk now. Her mount, with an abyss of gentleness, reached down and lipped at the feathers atop her head. With that she grew and they two twined together in a light wreathed in a blackness burnished bronze. Goodbye soaring mage, last of light. The little Binoq mage, Abafouq almost stumbled in his haste, face glistening with oils used to keep the cold at bay. Powder spilled through his fingers as he lifted them to embrace his dear companion of countless leagues. Goodbye hidden one, sorrow’s long. Quickly and soberly stalked the most remote of them all, Guernef of the Nauh-kaee, his feathers a white so bright that even the sun hid itself in shame. One of the Rheh who had served as a pack animal for them out of modesty and love, came to greet him. Goodbye lofty one, the wind’s song. Then the last of her companions came forward, Charles, his strange six-limbed body wrapped in the green vine with purple blossoms opening and smelling so sweetly that Lindsey knew he could forget everything should he lay in a field of such flowers. His Rheh nodded and breathed a sullen mist across the rodent's blackened face. Goodbye stone and vine, ever more thine. And then Lindsey felt himself bidden and he floated toward the final Rheh, the one that had born him across the Steppe, Pyralis, and into the festering swamps of Marzac. Those green eyes met him and held him, with a surfeit of knowedge that disclosed everything hidden. The words reverberated and made the cypresses and the ferns shake as if waking from a long slumber. Goodbye woman gone, dragon born. They had known. Lindsey blinked and leaned forward to touch the Rheh who'd claimed him for a rider. His steed had known all along who he was. He fell into the golden hide and green eyes, spiraling away from that evil swamp, all thoughts for one blessed moment clear. Lindsey blinked open his eyes and saw his father, the enslaved Keeper standing guard over him, and the laughing Calephas brandishing the heavy, metal hammer. “That explains it then,” the Baron was saying with caustic pleasure. “Your blood has taken on that of the dragons because you enjoyed tender intimacies with one. And Lhindesaeg's is stronger still because he is half-dragon. It took months for me to make my blood as strong as yours, Alfwig. And now your son will give me what I need to finish what I've started.” “And what have you started?” Alfwin said with a cold menace. The Baron walked back across the room and gestured at his worktable. “After Nasoj's disastrous attempt to seize Metamor Keep the winter before last, I left his employ and allied myself with Lilith's forces in the southern Giantdowns. Because of them I have no need to fear a reprisal from Nasoj for my betrayal. He smiled then and ran one finger down the side of a glass decanter filled with a a thick, purple fluid. “But I am not a gambling man. I thought myself secure once before, immune from harm, and then I was caught and barely escaped from the Midlands. My time in Arabarb is limited. Either Nasoj will find a way to kill me, or the Resistance will. And even if they don't, one day Gmork will be powerful enough he'll believe he won't need me anymore and have my head placed on a pig pole to the delight of my subjects. And that is why I'm so delighted that you have come into my hands, Lhindesaeg.” He picked up the bottle and tilted it from one side to the other. “I obtained a large quantity of these potions from my new allies. This potion, unaltered, will transform a human being into a bastardized mix of human and dragon, a ruined form, known as a Draconian. I've seen them work. I've made boys such as yourself drink them so I could study the interplay of spells that made them work. “But I don't want to be a Draconian.” He set the bottle down and gestured at the rest of the table. “I want to be a dragon. And to that end I've made adjustments, purifying the draconic essence used in these potions, to transfer their strength to myself. With them, I have been able to alter my blood. But until I unlock all the other components, that is all I dare change.” His smile grew wide and Lindsey could almost see his teeth growing sharper and serrated. An unholy fire burned in his blue eyes. “I'm almost there. You, Lhindesaeg, are the last piece I need. One more potion, one more test, and then I will be ready.” “The dragons will never accept you,” Alfwig spat. “They'll know who you are.” “Aye, they will,” Calephas admitted. “But I don't have to stay here. As a dragon, I can fly wherever I wish. And I will live as long as I wish. And there will be no one to contest my power.” His smile slipped briefly, only to grow even wider as if he too were a wolf. “And I will be able to devour as many boys as I wish.” “I won't drink any potion!” Lindsey shouted with a fire that felt like his old self. “I won't help you!” Calephas picked up a small wooden funnel and shrugged. “That's why I have this.” He set the funnel down and then tapped one of the bottles. “But, it will take time for the potion to be ready. I must leave it to settle overnight before the spells are properly mixed. So, I am going to leave you to sleep if you can. Tomorrow morning you will help me become a dragon. And as for you, Alfwig, you will go back to the dungeons. Once I have no more need of you, you will drown in the Arabas. Yajgaj!” A different Lutin stepped through the door and stared in impish defiance. “My Baron.” Calephas glowered at the unmoved figure. “You aren't Yajgaj, where is he?” This Lutin carried the guisarme that had been in Yajgaj's hands and he too had a necklace of finger bones, though not nearly as many as the war leader had. “He go see to soldiers to keep castle safe while Gmork gone. We take man back to dungeon.” “Do so,” Calephas grunted. The Lutins guided Lindsey's father back to his feet and out the door. Alfwig gave Lindsey a forlorn and apologetic gaze before he disappeared through the iron aperture. Once they were gone, Calephas stroked Weaker behind the ears in distraction before returning his attention to Lindsey. “Although your father is in the dungeons, they are not the only cells in this castle. This room used to be a torture chamber during the thane wars over a hundred years ago. Your ancestors were very good at two things: making weapons to kill each other, and devising means to torture both body and mind.” He grabbed the single ring set in the wall a few feet above Lindsey's head. “Truly, your ancestors were geniuses.” Calephas gave the ring a twist, and then the stone ground against itself as the wall to which Lindsey was attached began to turn. Lindsey struggled against his chains but as the sick Baron slid out of view, Lindsey was greeted with a darkness all around him, a cold chill that made his naked flesh tremble, and the sound of rushing water far below him. The wall clicked into place and Lindsey could only cower and try to keep his body pressed as closed together as possible to keep warm. From behind him he heard the Baron's shouted words, “You won't die of cold, Lhindesaeg, and there's nowhere for you to go. Good night and sleep well my little boy.” Lindsey stared into the darkness and sobbed in prayer. ---------- Yajgaj moved quickly through the castle halls, striding past soldiers without a word, but pausing to give instructions to all the Lutins he found. They were all of Blood Harrow tribe now. He'd made sure that every Lutin in the castle not of his tribe was moved elsewhere. It had taken months to do so, but it had been necessary. He couldn't depend on their loyalties. The green-skinned little man moved through the halls searching resolutely. He knew Calephas would be irritated that he'd left, but there had been no choice. At least not anymore. That one exclamation from the boy had changed everything. Finally, after a sun's handspan, he found the soldier he sought. The tall dour man was standing guard with two others along the southern battlements overlooking the outer bailey. The night sky was obscured by heavy clouds and the city below was occluded by darkened windows and doused torches. What few lights traveled those streets were carried by Calephas's soldiers as they continued their search for the Resistance. “Gwythyr!” He snapped in a guttural voice that sounded as if he thought the man's name a delicious portion of meat. “Come with me! The Baron wishes you.” The man's face turned ashen white but he left his post and followed Yajgaj back inside the castle walls. But Yajgaj didn't lead him anywhere near Calephas's laboratory. Instead, once they were halfway between torches on either end of a long hall he turned and pressed the bone knife against the man's belly. “Bend over, Gwythyr,” he hissed in a whisper. The man was so stunned he could only do as bidden by the Lutin whose bone necklace prominently displayed his prowess in killing men. “A little closer,” Yajgaj said softly. And then, once the man's ear was close enough that he could whisper with no chance that anyone would hear he said, “I know you are part of the Resistance.” Gwythyr immediately tried to jump back, but Yajgaj grabbed his one arm in a vise-like grip and pressed the razor sharp blade against his belly so that the leather vest began to part. “I am not your enemy. Tomorrow, both Calephas and Gmork will die. I need you to contact the Resistance and bring them into the castle. I will have the eastern gate and walls guarded by the Blood Harrow. They will let you in. Do you understand me?” Gwythyr blinked several times and stared at him in astonishment. “But... but you're a Lutin.” Yajgaj snorted and smiled, long, pointed ears lifting with his cheeks. “Clever. Maybe I not kill you and take your thumbs if you help me kill those two. Do you understand?” “They won't believe me.” Yajgaj narrowed his yellow eyes and simmered. “Do you believe me?” “Why should I?” “Because you Resistance and I not kill you yet.” Gwythyr swallowed again, eyes flashing across the hallway afraid that somebody might suddenly come upon them. But as a Lutin, Yajgaj's ears told him much more and he knew they were as safe as anyone could ever be in this castle. Finally, the soldier began to nod. “I'll try to convince them.” “You better. If you come back and the Resistance isn't with you, I will give you to Gmork so I can kill him while he's distracted feasting on your mind.” Yajgaj dragged the man's face a little closer. “But I won't kill him until after you start worshiping him.” It was, Yajgaj knew, a stupid threat that if the man gave even a modicum of consideration to would see it for what it was. But he'd learned in the last year just how powerful a motivator fear was. And for a Lutin wearing a necklace of human finger bones, fear was one of his chief weapons. “I'll do it.” Gwythyr said at last. “How long do I have?” “By dawn I have all guards at eastern door and walls changed to Blood Harrow. You have until dusk when I need to change them again.” “During daylight? Are you mad?” Yajgaj pressed the knife against his belly again and growled. “Fine, we'll find a way. Once we're in, where do we go? What about the other soldiers?” “I keep path for you to Calephas's laboratory free. You know the way.” Gwythyr nodded. “Some go that way, others take the armory and bailey walls. I will try to have more soldiers out in the city looking for you tomorrow so it be easier. Do you understand?” Gwythyr nodded. “I don't know if I can trust you, Yajgaj, but you haven't turned me in. I'll try to talk them into your plan.” Yajgaj smiled and let the soldier go. He sheathed his bone knife and nodded. “Good. I like you, Gwythyr. I let you keep your thumbs.” The man's face twitched as he backed away a few paces. “One thing more. How do I get out of the castle?” He laughed beneath his breath. “The same way you always do. The western sea door. I watch that one for you tonight.” Gwythyr swallowed uncomfortably and nodded. He stiffly turned and walked down the hallway to tend to his new task. Yajgaj watched him go and then hurried to where he could watch to make sure he did as he was told. Tomorrow everything would be decided one way or another. Either Gmrok and Calephas would be dead, or the rest of them would. The Lutin smiled and knew that his Blood Harrow elders would be pleased with such a choice. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4dbdbf5f97402130720353! </body> </html>