Dragon Unbound
Page 1
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Chapter One
The First Dragon was well aware of the noise outside the sunny room. The murmur of voices, both masculine and feminine, wafted up to him from what he knew was a stone-set patio below. But here, on the second floor in the small room with cheerful yellow paper patterned with turtles and reeds, the noise was muted, even though the window allowed in a soft summer breeze.
He moved past a lacquered dresser and a small bookcase bearing a carousel lamp and a telephone to the crib that sat near a window.
“Do you hear them, little one? The dragonkin like to talk,” the First Dragon told the baby lying in its crib, its arms and legs moving to a rhythm that only the baby could hear. He leaned forward, smiling at the latest of his descendants. “It was always so. We are very passionate beings, and we share our feelings. Ah, you are a girl, I see. I am your ancestor. Your family calls me the First Dragon, for that is what I am. All dragons who ever were, and all who ever will be, are descended from me. You are part of a great heritage, child, one that most mortal beings know nothing about.”
The baby blinked at him.
He considered her for a moment. He had a policy of telling new dragons just what traits he saw in them during his welcome visit. “You will not be blessed with the grace of your sister, but you will captivate males nonetheless. They will be charmed by your unique ability to see through illusion, and your fearless nature.”
The baby gurgled up a spit bubble, her tight little fists waving about in a manner he found amusing. He touched a spot on her forehead, murmuring, “Blessings, child of the green dragons,” before giving in to temptation and stroking her tiny pink fingers.
Immediately she gripped his finger, delighting him with her chuckle of pleasure.
“You are a little warrior, are you not?” he told her, oddly reluctant to leave this, the latest dragon to be born. “You possess your mother’s courage and your father’s intelligence. You will be a formidable enemy, and a stalwart ally. A very perceptive one.”
The baby continued making gurgly chuckles, her fingers still holding on to the tip of his, her legs kicking out in that particular swimming motion that babies had. She had managed to remove the light covering laid over her, but given the warmth of the day, he was loath to put it on her again. He grimaced when she pulled his finger over to her mouth, and began gumming it, the wet saliva bubbles clinging to his skin.
“I must leave you, little one,” he told her firmly. “I visit all newly born dragons, but I do not remain for them to chew upon me. I have many things of importance to do. I am the First Dragon.”
The baby continued to mash his finger between her tiny, slobbery gums, unimpressed with his statement. Indeed, he had the feeling she was unimpressed with him altogether.
“Oh, very well, but only for another minute, as you are so determined,” he said, resigning himself to having a wet finger. “I will admit this has been a pleasant visit to meet you. Of late, I find myself ...” He paused, frowning at the odd sensation that had gripped him the last few years. “Lonely is too strong of a word. Lonely implies a need, and I have no needs. Perhaps it is a desire for contact that I am experiencing. I wish to have more contact with ... someone. Someone who would talk to me. Someone who would care about me. Someone who—”
An explosive sound came from the depths of the baby’s diaper.
He transferred his frown, which had been directed at himself, to the small dragon that gurgled delightedly before him. “I suspect what you have just done is not worth such pride, but I will take into account your age, and pass no further judgment. Farewell, newest green dragon. There may be a time in the future when we meet again, but if not, fare—”
The door opened on the word, causing him to take a step back from the crib. He wasn’t startled by new arrivals, for he was the First Dragon. He never startled. But he was mildly surprised to find himself suddenly in the company of not just one dragon’s mate, or even two, but three of them.
“The First Dragon!” the first mate cried upon seeing him. Aisling, he recalled, was her name. She was also a Guardian, if he remembered correctly, and he always did. “Eek! You’re not going to do anything to my baby, are you? Because she’s a dragon already, and she’s cute, and she sleeps through the night, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do anything to her.”
“Aisling,” the mate named May said, elbowing the taller woman. “You can’t talk to him like that. He’s a god.”
“Demigod, actually,” said the third woman, moving forward. She gave him a steady look, one that always secretly amused him. Of all his descendants, this one never failed to stir emotions in him. Mostly exasperation, but there were moments, as now, when her spirit shone brightly and touched his soul.
“Child of light,” he said, greeting her.
“Daddy-in-law,” she said in a flippant tone that he knew was intended to irritate him.
He allowed one eyebrow to rise half an inch. “You are still annoyed with me, Ysolde?”
“Considering that I found you trying to convince my oldest son to allow you to make him a dragon when you know perfectly well that he’s happy being a human—yes, I’m still annoyed. Baltic is furious.”
“When is he not?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Aisling giggled.
He looked beyond the women to the hall. No males had followed them. “There is a sárkány?”
“Not for a couple of days.” Ysolde gestured to Aisling. “They’re having a party to celebrate Ava’s birth, and because half the wyverns are here for that, they decided to have a mini-sárkány.”
“It’s really more of a State of the Union than a full sept meeting,” Aisling said. She looked with mildly curious eyes at him. “But I think the bigger question is, what is the First Dragon doing here?”
“I’d say interfering, but as you pointed out, Ava is already a dragon, so I have no idea,” Ysolde answered. She gave him a pointed look that he chose to ignore.
Aisling tched in the back of her throat, and hurried over to her child, flinching as she did so. “Holy cats, Ava! You can’t possibly be responsible for that smell!”
“You wouldn’t believe the diaper shenanigans that Anduin got to before we got him potty trained,” Ysolde said, still giving the First Dragon a gimlet look. “So, do you want to tell us why you’re here?”
The First Dragon was well aware of the noise outside the sunny room. The murmur of voices, both masculine and feminine, wafted up to him from what he knew was a stone-set patio below. But here, on the second floor in the small room with cheerful yellow paper patterned with turtles and reeds, the noise was muted, even though the window allowed in a soft summer breeze.
He moved past a lacquered dresser and a small bookcase bearing a carousel lamp and a telephone to the crib that sat near a window.
“Do you hear them, little one? The dragonkin like to talk,” the First Dragon told the baby lying in its crib, its arms and legs moving to a rhythm that only the baby could hear. He leaned forward, smiling at the latest of his descendants. “It was always so. We are very passionate beings, and we share our feelings. Ah, you are a girl, I see. I am your ancestor. Your family calls me the First Dragon, for that is what I am. All dragons who ever were, and all who ever will be, are descended from me. You are part of a great heritage, child, one that most mortal beings know nothing about.”
The baby blinked at him.
He considered her for a moment. He had a policy of telling new dragons just what traits he saw in them during his welcome visit. “You will not be blessed with the grace of your sister, but you will captivate males nonetheless. They will be charmed by your unique ability to see through illusion, and your fearless nature.”
The baby gurgled up a spit bubble, her tight little fists waving about in a manner he found amusing. He touched a spot on her forehead, murmuring, “Blessings, child of the green dragons,” before giving in to temptation and stroking her tiny pink fingers.
Immediately she gripped his finger, delighting him with her chuckle of pleasure.
“You are a little warrior, are you not?” he told her, oddly reluctant to leave this, the latest dragon to be born. “You possess your mother’s courage and your father’s intelligence. You will be a formidable enemy, and a stalwart ally. A very perceptive one.”
The baby continued making gurgly chuckles, her fingers still holding on to the tip of his, her legs kicking out in that particular swimming motion that babies had. She had managed to remove the light covering laid over her, but given the warmth of the day, he was loath to put it on her again. He grimaced when she pulled his finger over to her mouth, and began gumming it, the wet saliva bubbles clinging to his skin.
“I must leave you, little one,” he told her firmly. “I visit all newly born dragons, but I do not remain for them to chew upon me. I have many things of importance to do. I am the First Dragon.”
The baby continued to mash his finger between her tiny, slobbery gums, unimpressed with his statement. Indeed, he had the feeling she was unimpressed with him altogether.
“Oh, very well, but only for another minute, as you are so determined,” he said, resigning himself to having a wet finger. “I will admit this has been a pleasant visit to meet you. Of late, I find myself ...” He paused, frowning at the odd sensation that had gripped him the last few years. “Lonely is too strong of a word. Lonely implies a need, and I have no needs. Perhaps it is a desire for contact that I am experiencing. I wish to have more contact with ... someone. Someone who would talk to me. Someone who would care about me. Someone who—”
An explosive sound came from the depths of the baby’s diaper.
He transferred his frown, which had been directed at himself, to the small dragon that gurgled delightedly before him. “I suspect what you have just done is not worth such pride, but I will take into account your age, and pass no further judgment. Farewell, newest green dragon. There may be a time in the future when we meet again, but if not, fare—”
The door opened on the word, causing him to take a step back from the crib. He wasn’t startled by new arrivals, for he was the First Dragon. He never startled. But he was mildly surprised to find himself suddenly in the company of not just one dragon’s mate, or even two, but three of them.
“The First Dragon!” the first mate cried upon seeing him. Aisling, he recalled, was her name. She was also a Guardian, if he remembered correctly, and he always did. “Eek! You’re not going to do anything to my baby, are you? Because she’s a dragon already, and she’s cute, and she sleeps through the night, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do anything to her.”
“Aisling,” the mate named May said, elbowing the taller woman. “You can’t talk to him like that. He’s a god.”
“Demigod, actually,” said the third woman, moving forward. She gave him a steady look, one that always secretly amused him. Of all his descendants, this one never failed to stir emotions in him. Mostly exasperation, but there were moments, as now, when her spirit shone brightly and touched his soul.
“Child of light,” he said, greeting her.
“Daddy-in-law,” she said in a flippant tone that he knew was intended to irritate him.
He allowed one eyebrow to rise half an inch. “You are still annoyed with me, Ysolde?”
“Considering that I found you trying to convince my oldest son to allow you to make him a dragon when you know perfectly well that he’s happy being a human—yes, I’m still annoyed. Baltic is furious.”
“When is he not?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Aisling giggled.
He looked beyond the women to the hall. No males had followed them. “There is a sárkány?”
“Not for a couple of days.” Ysolde gestured to Aisling. “They’re having a party to celebrate Ava’s birth, and because half the wyverns are here for that, they decided to have a mini-sárkány.”
“It’s really more of a State of the Union than a full sept meeting,” Aisling said. She looked with mildly curious eyes at him. “But I think the bigger question is, what is the First Dragon doing here?”
“I’d say interfering, but as you pointed out, Ava is already a dragon, so I have no idea,” Ysolde answered. She gave him a pointed look that he chose to ignore.
Aisling tched in the back of her throat, and hurried over to her child, flinching as she did so. “Holy cats, Ava! You can’t possibly be responsible for that smell!”
“You wouldn’t believe the diaper shenanigans that Anduin got to before we got him potty trained,” Ysolde said, still giving the First Dragon a gimlet look. “So, do you want to tell us why you’re here?”
