Becoming a Dragon (29 page)

"What? You just want to keep her at home! Are you sure you're really thinking of her? Do you really think it's in her best interests to marry some nobody?"

Gerald puts his hands up in protest. "I'm not trying to make her do anything, and it's a little early to be discussing who she's going to marry. I trust her enough to let her decide who she wants. At least she wouldn't choose someone like Jenna."

"Leave her out of this!" Arthur replied angrily.

"Whatever you decide to do, you're in my home now, so just give them a few minutes together. She thought he was dead up to a few minutes ago."

"Think of her reputation. Have you any idea what they could be doing in there?"

"Far better than you, little brother. I am in the army, remember? But you've forgotten who is in there. He won't do anything to harm her reputation."

"You've only met him once! How can you be so—" Arthur stopped mid-sentence as Daisy's bedroom door opened and Daisy led John out. He had a slightly surprised, happy smile on his face, as if he wasn't really sure if he was dreaming or not. Daisy looked a little sheepish, but kept hold of John's hand.

"Boys," Daisy said, addressing them both. "What are you doing standing outside my room?"

"Debating whether we need to go in and rescue John," Gerald replied teasingly.

Daisy slapped his hand and giggled. "He thought we should come out. Didn't want to worry you. You wouldn't worry though, would you?"

"Not at all," Gerald replied. "I trust you both to behave as you should. Now, if it were Arthur and that Jenna, I would be more concerned…"

Arthur glared at him angrily and stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

"He's in a good mood," Daisy commented drily to her brother, wondering whether to go after him.

"Yes, well let's not stand here in the corridor. Let's give Arthur some time to cool down. To the sitting room, I think," Gerald replied.

Daisy followed Gerald, still keeping a firm hold on John's hand and leading him to sit next to her on a comfortable chair. As soon as she had sat down, she moved John's arm so she could nestle close to him.

"Aren't you going to offer our guest a drink Daisy?" Gerald asked pointedly.

Daisy frowned at him. "John, would you like me to get up and call the maid or stay here?"

"Stay here," John replied, gazing at her with a dopey smile.

"Perhaps
I
might like a drink," Gerald observed.

"Perhaps you know where the kitchen is," Daisy replied, still not moving. "You're the one who chose not to have enough servants here, not me. Go and get yourself a drink."

"Alright, look, I'm very happy for you both, but this is my house, and you're in my care, so I'm setting some rules. Firstly, that was your last time alone in Daisy's room together. Secondly, especially if you're in the house alone, I expect you to both remain fully clothed."

"Gerald! As if you'd need to tell us that!" Daisy squealed.

John turned a bright red. "Sir, I assure you that I wouldn't do anything that would hurt her reputation."

"Don't worry, John, I trust you. Daisy though, I'm not so sure about. She might lead you astray."

"Gerald!" She threw a pillow at his head, which he caught easily. "Haven't you got anything better to do?"

"You want me to go? From my own sitting room? What did I just say about being left alone?"

"This isn't my bedroom!" Daisy objected.

"Still, you shouldn't be doing anything that you need to be left alone for," Gerald insisted, "and this is my sitting room, and I'm quite comfortable here, thank you. I think I'll stay."

Daisy glared at him then gave him a mischievous smile. "Fine. Have it your way." She turned to John and smiled, taking his cheek with her hand to turn his head to face her. She rubbed her nose gently against his before beginning to kiss him passionately. Gerald lasted about five seconds.

"Mercy, Daisy; alright, you win. The sitting room is yours." Daisy stopped kissing John, who looked a little dazed, and smiled triumphantly at Gerald.

"Just don't make me watch that again," he told her. "Ever! You're still my little sister."

Daisy giggled. "Bye bye, big brother. Oh, and Gerald?"

"What?"

"While you're up, you couldn't get John a drink, could you?"

The pillow caught her squarely in the face as Gerald left the room.

"Hey," Daisy squawked. She turned to John and put her hand on his face, tracing the faded dark lines on his face which had yet to disappear completely. "Does your face hurt? It still doesn't look very good."

He shook his head. "No, not any more. I just feel tired now. All the energy has been sapped from my body. Flying back was quite a challenge."

She nodded sympathetically. "You haven't had a great first term, have you? I'm surprised you're still alive, to tell the truth."

John nodded, smiling. "There have been a few close calls, I admit. For both of us."

Daisy kissed him again. "It'll be better for you now. Next term things will be perfect. I promise."

Pete opened his eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight. He couldn't believe he was still alive. His body was sore all over and he felt a painful lump on the side of his head, but he was still breathing. His hands were bound together and he could feel something strange and uncomfortable around his neck. He reached up to feel it; it was a heavy metal ring, like a collar for a dog, but with a series of spikes pointing inwards.

"Transform, if you like." Pete turned to look at the speaker; it was the blue-haired man who had commanded the soldiers at the river bank. He was sat watching him with a smug smile on his face. "I've always wanted to watch what happens when someone tries transforming wearing one of those."

Pete nodded grimly, understanding the purpose of the device. The collar was designed to kill him if he transformed. A simple but effective tool. He looked around him, trying to get his bearings. They were no longer beside the river, but by some trees at the edge of a grassy clearing. He was chained by his ankle to a tree, and his hands were tied together with rope. Anna and Butcher were on the floor beside him, unconscious but similarly bound. The Blue Dragon's leader was leaning against a tree a few metres away, watching him with interest.

"They're fine. Sleeping. They have been for a long time."

"You've given them something?" Pete asked. Judging by the sun, it was late morning, so it was unlikely that they had just dozed off. Not in this camp.

The Blue leader nodded. "They were making too much fuss. It upsets my men. And when they get upset it's harder to stop them getting carried away, if you understand what I mean. They were already disappointed that you were kept alive. They didn't expect to be taking male prisoners."

"Why am I alive?" Pete asked, feigning indifference.

The man shrugged. "Orders. I'm not told why and I don't question them. But then my orders aren't as hard to follow as yours. Or did you enjoy murdering those children?"

"I didn't touch any children. I only fought in the air. Besides, you murder our children as well. How are you in a position to judge?"

"You've seen children murdered by us?" the Blue leader asked pointedly. "I've been on eight raids, and I've never killed or even seen children killed. Why would I? My orders are to bring all girls back alive."

Pete hesitated. He hadn't seen any place that had been raided; all of his knowledge was second hand. "And the boys? You murder their parents, kidnap their sisters and just leave them alone? Do you expect me to believe that?"

The man shrugged. "I ignore the boys. My orders ignore them so I do as well. Others may kill some but it's not something I've seen. But babies? What sort of monster does that? Gives orders to do that? You left none alive yesterday, did you?"

Pete said nothing. He was wracked with guilt, the image of the burnt child still etched in his mind.

The man nodded, reading his expression perfectly. "Monstrous, wasn't it? I can see it sickens you just as much as me, and I believe you when you say that you didn't kill any children. But you're still just as guilty as the rest of them, clearing the way for the baby killers. All you did was play a different part in the attack. Of course, my men wouldn't care what role you claimed to play. If it was up to them you'd be dying a very slow death at the moment. Many of them had relatives in that city. They're disappointed that I made them kill your two friends so quickly. Personally, I don't really care just as long as they're dead. Two less monsters."

Pete glared at him, hatred in his eyes. "Every attack we make is a direct response to your raids. What do you expect us to do? All of this could stop if you stopped attacking us."

His captor shook his head and laughed mockingly. "Do you really believe that? So that's what your leaders tell you. Tell me, how do you think we'll respond to yesterday's raid? We'll attack a few of your villages in response. We react to your raids, not the other way around. When you stop attacking us and murdering our children, then it will stop."

Pete couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Nonsense! You attacked just ten days ago. Twenty people murdered, and five kidnapped. Just across the border from here? What was that in response to? This is the first time we have been deployed in months."

"Twenty, you say? I should have you talk to my commander for me. He was very disappointed when I told him we killed nine of yours and lost twenty of ours. Personally, I thought that was an excellent result; we always lose more of ours than we kill of yours on these raids, as do you on your attacks, with yesterday as an exception. And if you really believe that was unprovoked then you've been misled again. Your troops to the north attacked one of our towns just a few days before; a place near the coast. Not near to here, granted, but why should we let you decide where the battles are? We choose where we retaliate, and that's all it was: retaliation."

Pete was silent, not sure what to believe.

His captor continued. "But these five kidnapped—those I am interested in. I led that attack, and would have loved to have taken some captives back with me, but I had no such luck on that raid. I have a deal with my commander you see, when I reach ten—and ten taken personally, that is, not including those I command, mind you—I get to keep one. Not for long of course; they are all sent to the camps, where they produce what we call the purple soldiers. You know, red hair, blue skin. One of those will be sired by me."

Pete shuddered. "And you call us animals. Is that what these two are destined for?"

The man nodded proudly. "Yes, and one will count towards my tally. I'm up to nine now. I'll have to be a bit choosier about my next one I guess. Any recommendations of places to visit? If I'm going to father a child with a monster, it may as well be a vaguely attractive monster."

Pete reddened with fury. "You call us monsters, but you wouldn't find us treating captives this way. We wouldn't lower ourselves to mate with your women. Why, it would be comparable to enjoying the company of sows, although I expect that's a popular past time here."

His captor's eyes flashed with rage, but only for a second. "Brave words. I guess you're relying on my obvious sense of duty to obey orders to prevent me from taking a break from my guard duty here. I'm the only thing between you and hundreds of men who want to avenge the young women, children and babies you murdered. Most of these men spent yesterday digging graves for your victims. Lots of very small graves. Yes, we take them captive instead of killing them like you would, and they do carry our children, but you'd be surprised; some them grow to like it. I think some actually prefer it here. They enjoy what we do to them. Looking at you and the other two pathetic excuses for dragons we disposed of yesterday, it's not surprising, is it? At least they know their children will grow up to be strong."

Pete fumed silently. "Brave words when your enemy is chained to a tree with this thing around his neck," he said, touching the metal ring. "Why don't you take it off and we'll see who is the stronger."

His captor laughed. "I would love to. Tearing you into little pieces would give me no less pleasure than it would to my men. But as I've said, I have my orders. So, if I had reached my ten, which one would you pick if you were me? They're both reasonable-looking, once you get past the hideous skin and hair colour. Although I suspect you could dye that." He looked at Butcher. "She's quite muscular, but her face isn't so bad.  What do you think?"

Pete ignored his question, just staring at him with hatred. His captor was quite a bit older than he was—in his early thirties, if not older.

"Or the skinny one, perhaps. I doubt the children would be such useful warriors, but I think I'd enjoy making them more than with the other one."

"Leave her alone!" Pete snapped.

"Ah, you prefer the skinny one. Yes, she wouldn't be a bad choice. Easier to manage, I expect."

Pete fumed at him. "I'm warning you…"

His captor laughed. "You're so easy to manipulate. Enough. Much as I like outmanoeuvring your mind as easily as we outsmarted you yesterday, I'm getting bored of your feeble responses. I'll have a little nap now; be quiet or I'll have to give you something to help you sleep." He lifted a heavy stick and smiled meaningfully.

Pete shrugged and turned away. He hated talking to this arrogant fool anyway, and had no interest in talking to him any more. He looked over at the two sleeping girls, Anna and Butcher. Butcher. He didn't even know her first name. She looked young. Too young to have to look forward to a life of ill treatment at the hands of this fool. He wondered how much of what he said was true. He was right about the children. That was unforgivable. That smouldering corpse would be forever burnt into his mind, and would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. But the Blues were in no position to criticise. How old were the captives that they stole away from their homes? He doubted they waited till they were adults before abusing them. He would give anything to be able to reach that sleeping fool's neck; even with his hands tied together he would be able to choke the life out him before he could get his tenth victim. And there was something strange about this man. He was much older than any of the other Blues, and his eyes had an intelligent, sly look about them. He was clearly playing games with him. Pete's thoughts turned back to how he could get to him, and he continued to sit silently, lost in his angry dreams of revenge and violence until a group of men approached the two of them. Unlike the men he had fought yesterday, these men were older, like the leader, and were dressed in smart uniforms, which probably implied senior ranks within the Blue Army. They spoke with his captor briefly, and as Pete struggled to hear what they said, someone approached him from behind and put a damp cloth over his mouth. He struggled futilely for a few seconds before lapsing into unconsciousness.

When he woke again he was lying on a bed in a dark and gloomy cell. The cell was poorly lit, the only source of light being two small lamps standing on shelves sunk into the cell walls. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he realised that his hands were no longer tied together, and he rubbed his wrists where the rope had left its marks. He raised his hands to his neck tentatively, but was disappointed to find that the metal collar was still in place. Wherever he was, the Blues still feared him and were not going to risk allowing him to transform.

He sat up to look around the cell; he could see the door opposite the bed which had a narrow slit at about head height, and a wider opening half way down, presumably for passing food into the cell.

"So you're awake at last." It was Anna, who was sat on another bed barely a metre away from his. He hadn't noticed her sitting there so silently in the half light.

"Hi, Anna. Do you know where we are?" he asked.

She shrugged, her face hidden by the shadows. "No idea. When I woke I had a blindfold on and they walked me in here before taking it off. They carried you in later and dropped you on that bed. I tried to wake you but you were dead to the world. You've been out for hours."

Pete nodded, wondering what they had given him to knock him out for so long. "So what about Butcher? Was she with you when you woke?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I had a blindfold on so I couldn't be sure, but I think I was the only prisoner. I didn't hear anyone else."

"Any idea where they took her?" Pete was almost afraid to ask.

Anna turned her face away from him. "I don't want to think about where she is now, or what they're doing to her," she replied coldly. "I expect I'll share her fate."

Pete looked away himself, a little embarrassed. "But hold on, why have they put us in the same cell? We're not chained to the walls here."

"What are you suggesting?" Anna asked suspiciously. "We can't fight them—not with these things around our necks."

"I'm not suggesting anything, but think about it. Consider what they do with their female prisoners. Rape them and use them to breed soldiers; red haired, but still Blue Dragons. At least that's what we've been told."

"Yes, thank you," Anna replied. "We've all heard the rumours. I really wanted to be reminded of that."

"No, you miss the point. If you're locked in here with me, how would they be sure that we hadn't had sex; that you're not already pregnant?"

"Perhaps because when two soldiers are captured, sex isn't usually the first thing on their minds. Most of us would be thinking of escaping."

"I know that, but as you said, we all know the rumours. If you were pregnant already it would spoil their plans."

"So you're suggesting that I sleep with you to try and get pregnant with a Red Dragon baby instead of a Blue Dragon? That plan seems to work very well for you."

"No, of course I'm not suggesting that. I'm saying that they wouldn't know if we had done that. They must know it's a risk."

"It's a risk anyway," Anna replied. "I could have been pregnant when they caught us."

Pete shook his head. "Of course you couldn't have been. You can't transform when you're pregnant. You couldn't have flown over here."

Anna looked a little surprised. "Really? I never knew that."

Pete shook his head. "They taught us that at school, and in basic training as well. The Blues would know that as well. So why would they put us in the same cell?"