The Dragon in the Stone (2 page)

A renewed surge of anger shot through her, and
stamping her foot, Lasiandra evoked an ancient curse she’d only just learned
about.

She was vaguely aware of her governess screaming
her name, but she was focused on chanting the words that would curse this
monstrous entity into stone forever more. All those loyal to him, too, so that
no one could cause them harm anymore. All the dragons in the land, for that
matter. Maniacal laughter reached her ears, and it was only when several of the
guests turned to stone, that she realized that sound came from her.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see
Drorgan attempt to take flight, but his feet were already stone, cementing him
to the ground.

“
No,
Lasiandra, no, what have you done?”

Her father’s hoarse voice reached her and sent the
ice cold hand of impending doom crushing her windpipe. Hand outstretched, the
index finger pointing accusingly at her, her father, too, was a statue.

Lasiandra couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as the
full horror of her actions dawned on her. By implication she had condemned the
whole kingdom to a similar fate as Drorgan. Not many had ever dared to stand
against him, thus making them supportive of his actions, as the only other
choice was death.

As all around her the living turned to stone, she
frantically searched for a solution to this problem of her making.

“
Give
him a chance to redeem himself. For if anyone can love the beast…”

“
True
love can break the curse.” Lasiandra hurried on to finish her governess’s
mantra. “For the beast will be cursed into stone, to walk the earth in his
monster form. Every generation he will get one chance to break the curse, to
find the person who can see the heart of the man inside the beast, and to set
everyone free, before death ends all. Penance needs to be made.”

With an almighty roar Drorgan managed to lift off
the ground bringing the rest of the roof crashing down around them, before he
turned to stone completely. He sank from view to splash into the mighty river
coursing past the bottom of the castle, and an eerie silence descended upon the
world.

Atlan’s groan as he came to eventually broke the
stillness, and Lasiandra rushed over to him to help him up.

“
What
in the name of all that is holy have you done, little sister?”

Chapter One

Twenty-five years ago

Drorgan watched the last remaining rays of the sun
dip behind the horizon with growing impatience. After centuries of being
confined to this stone in what once was a raging river, and had now formed into
little more than a stream, set in marshland, he lived for the days the magic
set him free.

To be able to breathe, to eat, to take flight, and
to just be himself, free of restraint for those precious twenty-four hours in
the human realm meant everything. He’d very quickly learnt that humans were not
his friends. In the early centuries he’d been hunted, barely escaped with his
life, in fact, as the stories about him grew. Hunters sat in wait for him to
emerge from the stone, and his body bore the scars to prove it.

Cloaking himself the minute he emerged was the only
way to go, and as time marched on, and dragons became mere legend the pressure
on him eased. As humankind marched toward the twenty-first century, he was
blown away by the advances he witnessed. He also spent less and less time in the
human sphere, preferring to spend his time in his castle, and on his land. Th
e
only place to have escaped the original curse, hidden
by the veils of time, after the witch’s frantic attempts to amend the curse,
which had condemned her own father. The statues of the people were now mere
stones, rocks, weathered and aged, and not recognizable for the humans they had
once been. There was small comfort in that fact, and the irony of the curse
having condemned her own family was not lost on Drorgan.

At least his castle remained, even if it was frozen
in time. Only there could he shift into human form, seek relief from the
loneliness, and find brief respite in the arms and the body of a willing wench.
Time moved slower in his alternate dimension, at roughly the rate of a full day
to a human hour in this time.

In theory that should have given him plenty of time
to break the curse, but he was all too aware that the people under his care,
the very ones he should have protected, had been cursed into this nonexistence
of suspended animation with him.

While no one openly opposed him, he sensed their
blame, their mistrust of his motives. While women opened their legs for him,
they guarded their hearts, and in truth Drorgan couldn’t blame them.

It meant he had become something of a eunuch over
the last few generations of his
awake
state. There was little pleasure
to be found in the sins of the flesh these days.

The lanterns dotted around the edges of the marshes
flittered into light as the sun disappeared, and emerging from the stone, he
shook the kink out of his atrophied muscles. More houses had sprung up along
the outskirts, and he could see the humans seemed intent on reclaiming this
piece of land as they had done for generations.

The distant hum of the motorway could be heard, and
a train hooted its whistle as it approached the local station. Shaking his
head, he traipsed out of the water, and raised his nose in the air to get his
bearings. Pollutants in the atmosphere seemed to grow exponentially, too, every
time he awoke. Another reason to seek out his realm, where the breeze was fresh
and the only constant background was the breaking of the sea against the bottom
of the cliffs his castle was perched on. The humans saw nothing but a ruin, but
once he crossed the threshold it came to life with all its magnificence. Every
time he returned it changed, not in keeping with human modern standards, but
from what he could gather it resembled a late 16
^th
century castle
now. Or at least it had done the last time he’d been awake.

Through the books in the ever increasing library,
he’d learnt of the fate that had befallen the little witch who had placed that
god-awful curse on him. It seemed she had regretted her hasty decision, and
tried to amend the curse for the rest of her natural life. Eugene, his trusted
butler, surmised that was why things were in constant flux. His old retainer
lived in hope that Drorgan would find the woman to break the curse and set them
all free. Drorgan, however, had all but given up on that.

He had learned long ago that trying to use his own
magic against the powerful safeguards left in place brought with it nothing but
unexpected results, so he reserved his magic to cloaking himself when in the
human world. It kept him safe, but perversely also meant he would never find a
woman prepared to see past the dragon to the man underneath.

The few times he’d tried, when a female had caught
his attention, they had either screamed the place down, or fainted. Drorgan
smirked and spread his wings ready to take off. It was not an experience he had
any wish to repeat. Not when female screams didn’t just bring villagers with
pitchforks these days, but armed police with guns that could put him down in an
instant, and if he died, then all those in his care would die also. He certainly
didn’t need that on his conscience.

He was about to lift off when he heard it. Faint
clicking sounds interspersed by bouts of crying. Turning round he found a small
human child. Dried tears had run zigzag paths down her dirty face, and he froze
when she looked straight up at him, as though she could see him. That should be
impossible with his cloak in place, but this little girl, whose teeth
chattering with cold were the clicks that had first alerted him to her presence
could be no older than two and a half at best. Clutching a tattered, old
stuffed dragon, of all things, in a death grip, she wore nothing but a thin
shift, which humans wore to bed. No wonder she looked half frozen.

That thin and worn out shift wouldn’t keep her very
warm in bed, let alone out here with an icy wind blowing in across the marshes.
A quick scan of the area showed her to be utterly alone, and try as he might
Drorgan couldn’t just leave her there. She would freeze to death. Besides, the
utter lack of fear in her big brown eyes, as she stepped close enough to touch
his scaly side had him rooted to the spot.

“
Y-y-
ou
a-a-re s-s-o b-
i
-
i
-g.”

He hardly could make out the words over her
cold-induced chattering, and not caring of the consequences of possible
discovery, he blew out a fiery breath to set alight the bush she was standing
next to. The little mite shrieked and ducking under his legs wrapped her body
round his front leg, while staring into the resulting impromptu campfire with
big eyes.

Don’t be afraid, little one. This will keep you
warm.

He felt her nod against his leg, as though she had
heard his thoughts, and her death grip relaxed somewhat. Carefully he lowered
himself, curling his long tail around him, and adding his wings to surround the
little girl with his warmth, without squashing her. She let out a little sigh,
and snuggled closer into him in such a way that his stone cold heart warmed in
tune with her.

Keeping his senses tuned to any incoming threat, he
startled when he heard her little voice in his head.

My name’s Rhonda. He’s dragon.

She lifted up the stuffed toy and smiled at him,
when he looked at her.

He looks like you. Me lost? Mummy be cross with
me?

Too stunned at her ability to communicate with him
telepathically he didn’t say anything, and to his utter horror she burst into
tears.

You’s
cross,
like Mummy. Mummy always cross.

I’m not cross, little one, just … don’t cry. I’m
sure your mummy won’t be cross with you.

Again he stretched his senses to establish where
this little scrap of human might have come from. She was too cold to have left
a heat signature, however, and there were no scents nearby that matched hers.
No frantic mother looking for her lost child.

It had to be way past this little girl’s bedtime,
and judging by her attire, she ought to be in bed. Had perhaps wandered away
from home. Children could sleepwalk, he knew that.
 
There was a boy in the village at home who
did so with alarming regularity.

The thoughts of home made his dragon itch to take
flight, but he couldn’t leave this child here, unprotected. He wasn’t that
careless bastard anymore. In truth he had never been so careless as to harm
children. There was only one thing for it. Calm her down, keep her warm, and
look after her until her family came looking for her. They would notice her
missing come morning at the latest, surely.

She was still crying in between giving big yawns,
and Drorgan’s chest felt tighter with each falling tear that scalded his
scales.

Shush, little Rhonda, don’t cry. Perhaps I’ll
tell you a story?

The sniffling stopped, and he breathed a sigh of
relief when she nodded.

Pwease
. One
‘bout dragons,
pwease
.

Drorgan laughed, surprising himself. Too bad he
couldn’t break the curse by looking after Rhonda. It was typical that the one
human female not afraid of him was barely out of nappies.

A story, you say. Hmm, let me think. Once upon a
time there was a very naughty dragon, called Lord Drorgan. He ruled his world
with magic and disdain.

Rhonda wriggled in his embrace and surprising the
ever loving fuck out of him, grasped his head and dropped a kiss on his
nostril. It left his scales on fire and his dragon a panting mess at this
Rhonda’s feet. All thoughts of leaving fled, and Drorgan settled into telling
his story. Rhonda fell asleep long before he finished his tale, but he carried
on anyway, telling her of his thoughts and dreams, and the world back home. He
was beginning to realize he might not see his castle during this
awake
phase, or if he did it would be only a brief appearance to Eugene to put the
old man’s mind at rest. He would worry over him otherwise.

The reappearance of the sun brought with it shouts
and screams for Rhonda. Just as he’d suspected, her parents had realized she
was not in her bed. He flinched inwardly at the myriad of people that trudged
toward his hiding place. Carefully nudging the little one awake he rose into
the air seconds before his tail would have been trampled upon by Rhonda’s
distraught mother. Her shriek of relief hurt his sensitive ears, as she scooped
the half asleep little girl up in a massive hug.

“
Oh
my God, I was so worried. What were you thinking?” The rest of whatever she was
saying was muffled as she carried Rhonda away, and his dragon snarled when
Rhonda’s mother completely ignored the little girl’s pleas for her dragon.

She didn’t mean him, he knew that, but the tattered
stuffed toy, which had been kicked out of her arms and was now floating
downstream. Rhonda’s cries grew louder, her mother’s relief turning to anger,
and Drorgan sighed.

Nothing he could do here. On impulse he swooped low
across the stream and grasped the toy dragon with his claws. He couldn’t get it
back to Rhonda, who had stopped crying at last, and was waving at him over her
mother’s shoulder, but he could at least look after her toy for her. Who knew,
perhaps the fates would let them cross paths again.

Chapter Two

Current Time

The largest dragon of her collection of glass
figurines gracing her desk wobbled precariously, and before Rhonda could make a
grab for it, the fragile object fell. Fortunately, it landed in the overflowing
wastepaper basket, where it lay on its side, its green eyes staring up at her
in a most accusing manner.

“
Oops,
sorry about that. Didn’t mean to knock that thing off.” Her work colleague’s
far too cheery voice negated that apology somewhat, as she heaved yet more
files on Rhonda’s desk. “Orders from on high, I’m afraid. The boss man says
they all need updating before the weekend. Something about the inventory and
funding for the library. To be honest I tuned out. Why we need to keep paper
records in this day and age is beyond me anyhow.” Liz rolled her eyes in her
typical overdramatic fashion, while batting her baby blues at Rhonda.

It instantly put her on high alert. She liked the
younger woman well enough—she was hard not to like, after all, but she was
clearly after something.

“
I
took a stack, myself, but we’re meeting up with Aaron’s parents tonight, and,
well, I need to get out of here on time, and…” Some of her cheeriness left when
Rhonda cocked an eyebrow at her, sighed, and retrieved the dragon figurine from
the waste bin.

“
I
might have somewhere to be,” she said, and her lips twitched, seeing Liz’s
immediate pout.

“
Oh,
right, err, well, that’s a pickle. Oh, lord, of all the nights to—”

“
Relax.”
Rhonda interrupted the rapid stream of chatter by putting her hand on Liz’s
arm. “I haven’t got anything planned, as it happens, but I resent the
implication that I would be free and wouldn’t mind.”

Liz colored slightly and worried her bottom lip
with her teeth, before she nodded.

“
I
know you all think I don’t do anything but work, but just because I don’t have
a boyfriend, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life outside of the library, you
know.”

“
Of
course, we don’t think that.” Liz’s instant denial was too rapid, especially as
she didn’t seem capable of looking Rhonda in the eye when she said that. Taking
pity on the girl, Rhonda smiled and gave a dismissive wave.

“
It’s
okay, be off with you. I’ll take care of this. Just make sure the front desk is
tidy, before you clock off, will you?”

“
Of
course, and thanks again. You’re a life saver. I couldn’t miss tonight. You
know how it is when you meet the other half’s parents for the first time. My
nerves are shot, I tell you. Anyway, I best go…” She trundled off, and blessed
peace descended on the tiny back office of the local library Rhonda had worked
at for the last ten years.

Belatedly she realized she was still cradling the
glass dragon, and she gently deposited him back on her desk.

“
And
don’t you look at me like that, either.” She glanced around to make sure no one
was witness to the fact that she spoke to the figurine, but the office was
empty, the rest of their small team having already left, which was just as
well. Seeing her talk to Drorgan would certainly cement her reputation of being
odd. Not that Rhonda really minded what folks thought of her. Having grown up
in foster homes, after her mother decided to place her in care, tended to make
Rhonda wary of trusting anyone.

Books and her collection of dragons never let her
down. A shudder went down her spine, as she recollected that night so long ago.
That night Drorgan had first appeared in her dreams, protecting her, being with
her. At least her mother and countless child specialists she’d seen since then
had insisted Drorgan had been a dream. The hallucination of a lost frightened
little girl, and no matter how much she had protested that the dragon in the
stone was real, they hadn’t believed her.

Her grown up, rational mind tended to agree with
the assessment that Drorgan couldn’t have really come out of that stone. This
was real life, not a fairytale, more was the pity. Rhonda’s lips quirked into a
mischievous grin at the thought. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if it had been real
though? Being a ferocious reader of the new genre of Adult Naughty Fairytales
that had sprung up recently, she had no problem imagining her dragon
transforming into a drop dead gorgeous hunk, who would whisk her away from this
place, and into a simpler world.

Marie, her last foster mother, whom Rhonda had been
very fond of, had always said that Rhonda had been born out of time.

“
Yer
should’ve been born several centuries ago, duck, with
yer
head
all’us
away with them
fairies,
innit
?” Rhonda could still hear Marie’s
broad London accent in her head. “
All’us
waiting for
yer
Prince Charming ‘
te
come
‘long. Well,
lemme
tell ye,
lovie
,
there’s no princes ‘round thon parts here. Nah,
lovie
,
you’s
keep
yer
head
down ‘t
school, and make ‘
omething
better of
yerself
.
Yer
got
good brains,
yer
have.”

Which was exactly what Rhonda had done, excelling
at school, and landing a job at Leagrave Libra
ry
where
she’d been ever since, having slowly worked her way up from a mere assistant to
fully fledged librarian, who was more or less in charge of their little branch.

It might not be other people’s idea of a dream job,
but for Rhonda it was bliss to be surrounded by books all day long. With that
in mind, she shoved all thoughts of dragons to the back of her mind and set to
work. There was renewed talk of shutting down this branch, so everything had to
be up to date for the audit. It wouldn’t do to give the cash-strapped council
more ammunition to pull the plug on funding.

By the time she had finally caught up with all the
paperwork and switched off her computer, it was pitch black outside. The occasional
firework went off in the distance, and with a growing sense of doom she picked
up the phone to dial for a taxi.

While she lived only half an hour’s walk away from
the library, she never walked home when she was working late, as it would take
her right through the local council estate. Not a problem in daylight, though
even then she shut her eyes and ears to some of the sights she saw. None of her
business what other folks got up to, as long as they left her alone, but in the
cover of darkness … yeah, that was an entirely different kettle of fish.
Besides, ever since that night when she’d sleepwalked away from home and gotten
lost, the dark held all sorts of untold terror for her. Rhonda always slept
with the light on, and with her collection of furry dragons. It was daft and
probably childish, but they made her feel better, and until such an unlikely
time as she actually found a man worthy of giving her heart to, those dragons
would be the only thing to share her bed.

“
Sorry,
love, it’s the Asian Christmas, so I’ve hardly got any drivers.”

The apologetic voice at the other end of the line
was as cheery and helpful as her local taxi firm always was, but equally
adamant that no taxis were available.

“
I
can wait?” Rhonda crossed her fingers for good measure, but she should have
known that was useless.

“
No
can do, my dear. They’re all booked out already.”

“
Okay,
never mind, thank you.”
 
Rhonda hung up
the phone and glared at the desk calendar. She’d even rung round the date to
remind herself to give the lovely Muslim couple living in the flats underneath
her an
Eid
card, which she had pushed through
their letter box this morning on her way to work.

Several phone calls to other taxi firms later and
Rhonda had to face up to the simple truth. She had to walk, or spend the night
in the library, which was a far from appealing process. As much as she loved
the place, she much preferred sleeping in her own bed.

Having set the alarm and locked up, she left via
the staff entrance, clutching her bag, containing the heels she wore for work.
Rhonda always changed into trainers for her walk to and from work, which tended
to earn her a few funny looks, but so what? Her trainers might look out of
place with her pencil skirt, tights, and sensible blouse, but they were more suited
than kitten pumps for walking. The heels would also make good weapons should
she need them.

Rhonda shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. She
was far too on edge tonight. It might be the twenty-fifth anniversary of that
dreadful night—the catalyst for her being placed in care—but that didn’t mean
anything would happen, now would it?

How many times growing up had she snuck back to
that stone, after all, willing Drorgan to come out and to prove to everyone
that she hadn’t made it all up. Of course the stone was just that—stone. It
might have the vague shape of a dragon, but that’s where the similarity ended.

Eventually she had been moved to foster care in
London, and she hadn’t returned to the dragon stone in years, until she’d
landed the job back in her home town. Perhaps a meander past the stone tomorrow
in the daylight would make her feel better.

A cold breeze picked up as she put her head down to
get past the playing fields. It was too eerie for her over-active imagination
with the fields in darkness, and only sporadic streetlights to guide her way.
Another cost cutting measure.

One lonely car sped by, briefly blinding her with
its headlights on full beam, and some more fireworks went off in the distance.
A huge shadow blocked them out briefly, and Rhonda missed a step. That had
almost looked like a dragon, but that had to be her imagination playing tricks
on her. The approaching high pitched wail of a motorbike made her spin round
just in time to see two masked riders approach on the path. Cursing under her
breath at the breakneck speed with which the youngsters tore up the path,
clearly racing each other, she sidestepped onto the field in an effort to avoid
them. Rough hands grabbed her around the waist, and Rhonda shrieked when the
riders followed. In the glare of their headlights she could make out several
more hooded youngsters.

“
Give
us your phone, bitch.”

“
Never
mind the phone. I
wanna
see what she’s packing under
that blouse.”

“
Yeah,
show us your tits.”

Rhonda blocked out the rest of the hateful words,
too focused on spinning in a circle to keep the youths at arm’s length. Every
lunge of hers was blocked. Her struggles to escape the circle they’d formed
around her, shoving her from one to the other, seemed to amuse them.

“
Fine
piece of ass in that skirt.”

“
What’s
the matter, chick? The likes of us not good enough for you?”

Rhonda’s scream for help was stifled by the tallest
of the gang shoving his tongue down her throat. He blocked her move to knee him
in the groin, and Rhonda gagged on the smell of alcohol and drugs that came off
of him. Unseen forces yanked her hair, and ripped her blouse, while yet more
hands restrained her arms.

Try as she might she couldn’t get free, so Rhonda
bit down hard on the tongue invading her mouth. Blood filled her mouth, and her
assailant’s scream made her ears ring before he punched her in the face with so
much force her head snapped back. Her vision went fuzzy, and in the next
instant she couldn’t breathe, as a set of hands closed around her windpipe and
she was dragged to the floor. Her skirt ripped as the hulking shadow squeezing
the life force out of her settled between her thighs. Rhonda tried to scream,
to move, but with her arms and legs pinned by unseen hands, their slurred
laughter in her ears, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as blackness crept
around the edges of her vision.

All of a sudden the pressure lifted, was ripped off
her in fact. Laughter turned to shouts and screams of terror, and through the
circle of fire that sprang up around her, she could just about make out a huge
shape, before she slipped into the blessed oblivion of darkness.

***
*

Drorgan didn’t usually hang around the stone once
it released him, but his dragon was on edge. It wasn’t just the fireworks in
his flight path that bothered him either. Those puny missiles didn’t have the
ability to hurt him, even if they did affect his cloak. With so many humans
staring up at the night sky they would see his shadow. Drorgan watched with
grim amusement, as one of the rockets went haywire. On the verge of exploding
it seemed intent on falling into a back garden where a bunch of wide eyed
children were staring up the sky.

With a flick of his tail Drorgan send the object
back into the air, where it exploded into a shimmer of light. The resulting cacophony
of noise hurt his ears, but the children’s screeches of delight made him grin.

Maybe that’s why his dragon didn’t seem capable of
tearing himself away from this place. Last time he’d woken up, another child
had caught his attention. The little girl with her huge brown eyes had come
back many times to talk to the stone, and Drorgan smiled again remembering her,
as he took another low sweep across the park.

All too soon, she had stopped coming, and he’d
often wondered what happened to her. She would be all grown up now, and his
dragon grew agitated again. Stretching his wings he allowed his animal side
this moment. He knew his dragon wanted him to find Rhonda again, to see whether
those brief moments of connection still held true after all these years, but
that was impossible. Back then she’d had the open mind of a child, accepting
the dragon as easily as though it had been a fluffy kitten. His dragon hissed
at those thought processes, adding yet more sulfur to the atmosphere full of
smoke. As a grown woman she would no doubt he horrified, and Drorgan didn’t
need some female screeching at him. His ears hurt enough from the fireworks.