The Dragon Child Chapter 1

Chapter 1
I was young, very young. It’s amazing I can remember what happened that day, but I wish I didn’t. I was 2 years old, and the sky was red with fire and blood. Soldiers everywhere, looking for me, for my people, and their intent was to kill. My mother ran with me in her arms. My father was behind us, trying to stop the soldiers. All the men of our village were killed, and the women captured. They had caught my mother and pushed her to the ground. I fell out of her arms and rolled on the gravel beneath me.
“You are a determined gal I see. But, your life shall end for your insolence,” one of the men had said. He withdrew his shining sword, and with a smile, had killed my mother.
As I lay there silent, the men left with their horses galloping along. I cried. There was nothing else I could do. I mourned for my mother and lay down beside her. I didn’t notice, but one of the men’s dogs had hold of my scent. Three men came towards me, swords ready.
“A dragon child,” one had said. He had a red beard and a long face. His chunky hand rolled me over. “Will fetch a high price at the slave market.”
“What are you all gawking about over there?” a voice had asked from behind.
“Captain?!? I… uh… we um… found a dragon child… sir,” he seemed baffled at the man. He was tall, even more so on a horse. I couldn’t see much because of silver armor.
“Let me see,” he dismounted his animal and knelt down to see me. He took off his helmet and held it at his side. His blonde hair and shaven beard looked funny, though I didn’t laugh. “This thing, a slave, doubt it. It’s too young to do much of anything.” His deep chuckle was reassuring. I was weary, but outstretched my hand to touch his face. It was rough, like sandpaper, but his checks were soft as a rabbit’s hide. He took me up in his arms, but made a face, telling me he had seen what I was hiding.
A dragon child, a mixed breed of human and dragon, was a hideous thing at birth. It had large serpentine eyes, small wings, and tiny paw-hands. Normally they have soft skin, but if touched by something cold or unfamiliar, scales are known to come through. I was like that, my green scales pinched his fingers a little, but he didn’t flinch. He looked me over, as though he were an inspector, and threw his men a look.
“Go on, I’ll take care of this abomination,” he almost chuckled as he said. “And tell no one of this, understood?”
“Yes, sir, Captain Luther!” they had saluted in sync. And he did just as he had said, he took care of me. He raised me, though I don’t know why. No one knows I exist. I am the last of my kind. The only thing left of the dragons. The only proof they ever existed, and no one knew, but that captain, my new father. My real father, Mortastrom was a brave fire dragon. Luther told me that even though I wasn’t human, I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and that he and my father had made an agreement to protect me. I know there is more to it, but I don’t know what.

* * *

It was a sunny morning, a Tuesday, and Luther was getting breakfast ready. His butler, Josh, was setting the table. I was 10 years old, eight years since he found me. I had learned to control my scales so they didn’t always show, and my eyes had settled to a nice blue color. My silky brown hair fell below my shoulders. I was tall, slightly chubby, and very shy. I couldn’t retract my wings, so I just folded them up under my shirt.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Josh gave his old man smile. I nodded and sat down. “How did you sleep?” He inquired. He just loved talking to me because of my voice.
He once told me my voice couldn’t compare to the best of singers, the softest of bells, or the most prestige of orchestras.
“I slept well, Josh. Where is Luther?”
“He’s making you breakfast, dear child, and you know he wants you to call him ‘Dad’.” Luther has been urging that he is my father now, but I call him by his name.
“Yes, I know.”
“Who wants eggs and bacon?!” Luther came in the kitchen door with hands full of plates. Though Josh should do the cooking, as he is a butler, every Tuesday Luther makes it instead. “Now how’s my favorite little girl, huh?”
“I’m your only little girl,” I laughed. He acted like a father. Sometimes, I wish he was.
“Well, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re my girl, and only my girl. Now eat your breakfast, we have a big day ahead.”
“You mean I can play with other kids?” I was overjoyed. I’ve never seen or played with other kids. Luther said it was too dangerous to go in public as a dragon child. People would notice my wings, which I couldn’t hide, and there would be an outbreak. I would be captured and experimented on.
“No, but I’m sure you’ll love this just the same.” He handed me a big plate full of bacon. It was my favorite breakfast. I ate all on my plate and a bit more. Tuesday was my favorite day, we always had eggs and bacon, and sometimes pancakes for breakfast, and then Luther would take me somewhere new. Josh stays at home and cleans up. Last week, he took me to a beautiful garden, with roses and butterflies and squirrels. It was amazing.
“So where are we going today?” I asked as I helped Josh clean the table.
“Hmm… I don’t know Lizzy. Maybe, we will visit outer space. You never know with me driving, do you?” I laughed, though it was true. Luther always takes me places I don’t expect.
“Can you give me a hint?” I asked.
“Of course not! That would ruin the surprise. But I will tell you this. You will learn more about yourself, and your heritage.”
I pondered this as we got into the car. My heritage? What has he talking about? I never knew my parents left me anything. What could they have left behind?

* * *

After driving for who knows how long, we finally reached our destination. I got out of the car and saw ruins. Luther wasn’t kidding when he said a hint would ruin the surprise. They looked like an old castle or something.
“This, Lizzy, is a monumental place,” Luther said from behind me. He was right, I could feel it.
“I know this place,” I said.
“You should. Your father, Nomedemalf, lived here long ago. This was his home.” His words echoed in my head. My father’s home.
I walked on, looking at the stones that were once walls. It seemed like an endless shoulder-high labyrinth. There were no chairs, no tables, no dressers, just walls. A little farther down there was a large arch. Through it was a huge room with a stained glass roof. The colors dazzled on the floor, making images of dragons dance with the shining morning sun. It was a sight to behold.
At the end of the room was a long table with tons of plates of food. It smelled really good, but it was warm.
“How is it warm? Isn’t this place deserted?” I asked. It was strange. Luther gave his deep laugh.
“Not entirely,” he said.
As soon as he said that, there was some kind of crash underneath our feet. Luther seemed calm, but I held onto the table so I wouldn’t fall. A glass of red wine toppled over onto the floor, marking the silhouette of a small orange dragon with a large stain.
Out of a chamber in the side of the room, there was a thundering roar. Out of it, emerged a sky-blue colored dragon. It shot into the sky like the bullet of a revolver, and came to gentle landing in front of me. I was intimidated, but not scared. It took a step toward me and sniffed. Its breath was foul as a skunk. It took a step back and gave a grunt. So this is it? How disappointing!
Slowly, I stood up. That voice. Did the dragon talk? In my head?
Of course I did, now get a hold of yourself. This is no condition for you young lady. Stand strait. And just look at your dress! Horrific!
It was talking. But how?
Oh my goodness, are you going to stand there and gawk at me or pay your due respects? Oh, that’s right. You don’t know who I am.
“Lizzy, this is Sestriere, your grandmother. Say hello,” Luther’s voice has reassuring to hear.
“Hello… Grandma Sestiere,” I said still recovering from the shaking.
Goodness! Fawndaria herself couldn’t fix you up with all her power and wisdom. How were you raising her as Luther? Sticks for breakfast and paper for dinner? Look how skinny she is! We’ll have to feed you plenty to get you into shape. And don’t call me grandma, I’m old enough without you reminding me.
“What do you mean? Who’s Fawndaria? Luther, what’s going on?” All this was too much to take in at once. If I were a regular child, I’d have run away by now, but something has keeping me here.
“I told you you’d find out about your heritage. That’s what we are here for,” His voice was cheery. I still didn’t understand very well.
Listen to me Cistila, you have dragon blood. You’re father left you to protect you. This fool isn’t your real father. I am you grandmother, Sestiere. I’m here to teach you like a dragon, not a petty human. It is important you come with me.
“Okay, but I don’t get how I hear you in my head,” I told her.
Dragons can use thought-speech to communicate. Much easier than talking if you ask me.
“One more question. Why did you call me Cistila?” Cistila, it rolled off the toung like a river.
It is your birth name. Your father named you Cistila because of your mother and fathers’ species. Your mother as a human and your father a dragon. Believe it or not, you are of royal blood. Though how don’t ask me. If only your father didn’t marry that excuse for a maiden.. Maybe then I’d have something to work with here.
As soon as she finished that, I felt a chill down my spine. I think Sestiere sensed it too.
Hurry! He’s coming. Hide in that alcove while I distract him.
I ran and hid where she told me, but why? Who was he? I scrunched inside so I couldn’t be seen.
Keep your mind a blank slate. Any thoughts at all and he’ll get you.
A large blood-red dragon shot out of the clouds and came down outside a door of the room. He was a little smaller than Sestiere, but not by much.
Sestiere. A deeper, more menacing voice burst into my head. I’m so glad to see you again. How’s the family?
Go away Flamorgantien. You’re not welcome here.
Oh, but I think I am. Word has it that Cistila has returned. Is this true? He was trying to find me.
Of course not! You know yourself humans don’t know of this place. How could she find her own way back?
A grunt resonated deep within his throat. I think otherwise. He began to walk around Sestiere. His gaze lingered from her to the room. He inspected the walls and floor. Wine? Now why would it be spilled? Why are you really here Sestiere?
I’m merely here to mourn for my son. You know how fond he was of this place.
Yes, indeed. But, there is a problem. The last time a human was here was the Instruction. That, as you know, was over 1000 years ago. I swear he had a faint smile. So why do I smell fresh human.
He came walking even closer to me. I covered my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me breath.
This time, Sestiere was the blackmailer. I had one for dinner last night, so sue me. Couldn’t find any buck worth hunting. Besides, if I know right, Ganbaldorox called ALL his followers to his den last night. Wouldn’t he be angry if his star pupil were out past curfew?
A look of fear hit the dragon’s blood-red eyes for a moment, and then he turned back to Sestiere. If you are truly honest in mourning and the human scent, then why is it you are shooing me away?
He came even closer to me. He was right beside, close enough I could feel his breathing on me. If I were to turn this corner, what would be lying there, hmm? Nothing but air? In a flash, he turned the corner and thudded me onto the floor with his large claws. Sestiere was there in a moment, but still too late.
“Let me go!” I screamed. He tightened his grip, making it hard to breath.
Now why would I want to do that? Cistila, the princess dragon-child, caught by me, Flamorgantien. I will be known far and wide for this! He lifted his other paw and was about to strike when Sestiere leaped onto him, knocking him to the ground below.
Run child! Don’t let him get you! Sestiere’s thoughts rushed into my head. Who ever this Flamorgantien was, he was a bad guy. I ran to the other side of the room where the hole in the wall was. Luther drove the car up and I got in. We drove on, hoping to get as far away from them as possible. I looked back, and the ruins, my father’s home, where already far in the distance.
I knew from then on, I’d be part of something more.

* * *

Dear diary,
Yesterday I met my grandmother, Sestiere. She told me some things you wouldn’t believe. My father was royalty among dragons, so I’m the princess of dragons or something like that. There was also this evil dragon named Flamorgantien, he tried to kidnap me. I don’t know why though. Oh, and my dragon name is Cistila. I think it’s pretty. Luther says we have to move, and I think it’s because of Flamorgantien. He wants me to be safe. I understand.
“Lizzy, are you ready?” Luther called. “Josh has packed your stuff, so let’s go.”
“I’m ready!” I called back. I felt a hint of uneasiness in his voice. I got out of bed and walked down the hall. There was a woman in the doorway. Hopefully she isn’t another grandma.
“Lizzy,” Luther gestured to the woman next to him. “This is my sister, Gwendolyn. She is going to take care of you.”
I was silent. Luther taught me to never talk to others, and there was something about Gwendolyn that wasn’t right.
“Hey there,” she said in a sweet voice, her tender blonde hair flowing down her shoulders. “You must be Elizabeth. I never knew he had a daughter.” She put her hand on my shoulder and motioned me out the door.
We walked to her car and I got in the passenger seat. It was a long drive, and I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I stared out the window until she broke the silence.
“So, what do you like to do? Play games? Go outside?”
“I sometimes go outside, but not often. Luther says games mess up your head,” I said as I watched trees fly in a lined blur on the side of the road. “But I like to read.”
“Good!” Her face lit up with excitement. “If you love reading, you’ll love my library. What do you like to read about?”
“Dragons,” The word made a silence once more as her expression went dull as a rock. We rode quiet the rest of the way.
When we finally got to her house, there was a large rose arch over the driveway. The front yard was filled with different flowers of all kinds: daisies, petunias, lilies, and tons more. The house was a pale blue color and decorated like the yard in a floral display. I got out of the car and followed her to the front door, which she promptly rushed open and ran into the hallway. I walked in slowly, taking in my surroundings: more flowers, how unexpected, and a small dining room in front of me with a hallway to the right. The wall to my left had paintings of many flowers and some people. I went to the dining room and sat down at a small round table.
“Alright,” my aunt said, now wearing a spring dress with lavender on it. “Now, let’s get down to business. Luther told me you didn’t go to school or anything. I understand, no one likes school, but we’re gonna have to get you into, what, 6th grade? Yeah, you look like a 6th grader. My daughter’s at school now.”
“Aunt Gwendolyn,” I started to say I can’t go to school because of what I am, but I don’t think she knows.
“What is it?” Her blue eyes locked onto me.
I tried to think of something else. “When is lunch? I haven’t eaten yet.” Her gaze loosened and wandered around the room to a cabinet in the corner.
“Well,” she opened the cabinet, inspecting its contents. “We have sandwiches and ramen noodles, take your pick.”
“Sandwich please.” I watched as she smeared peanut butter and jelly on bread and handed it to me. I ate while she began talking.
“Now, if you’re gonna go to school, I need your information.” She got out a piece of paper and started quizzing me on my birthday, allergies, and other things. She also told me rules of what not to touch, how to speak to her, and of course, don’t mess with the flowers.
“Come. I’ll show you your room,” she said as she walked through the hallway. I followed her into a small room. It had a bed against the far wall under a window. A desk occupied the left wall by the head of the bed. Right was a dresser with a small TV on top. It wasn’t much, but you could tell she tried. She left me to myself and I sat down at the desk. There was a computer and a couple books on a shelf. I couldn’t read them, though. Luther never taught me how. Hanging on the wall was a small calendar with this month, September, in front with a picture of a kitten hanging from an orange-leafed tree. I sat for a few minuets, taking in all that had just happened. Would I ever see Luther again? After about an hour, I heard the front door open and a girl stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing here!”

The End... for now ;D