Dragon's Wing

No one ever really writes a book alone. There’s always someone to help you hammer out the details, who proofread, edit, etc.

- Those assisted when they could: Leslie Bobb (my cousin and life coach), Regina and Sabrina Brosche (my cousin and her sweet, German wife); Sarah Spencer; Izzy Gibson (my beautiful niece) and my Uncle (and writer of "With a Jester of Kindness) KC Herbel

- My main beta readers, Dana Wright Fournier (beautiful wife of my cousin, Tony) and Yvone Williams (a fellow NaNoWriMo who tirelessly went over things with me, more than once)

- My editor, Lindsay Schiro, who was worth every penny.

- Arvata, who illustrated the cover, and her father Bjornar Haveland who helped put everything together. You can see Arvata’s work at http://www.arvata.deviantart.com

- Rik Red Rix Ouwens for the brilliant poem Dragon’s Wing

- Joseph, Roberto, Malia, MK, Laurie, Johanna and Max, my classmates who went through the Creative Writing – Master of Fine Arts Degree

through Full Sail University with me, for helping me with inspiration, ideas and who let me vent about life.

- Everyone running National Novel Writing Month. I could never resist a challenge.

- Everyone at Rooster Teeth Productions (especially Joel Heyman, Burnie Burns and Geoff Ramsay) for making me laugh when things got too serious.

- Richard and Pauline Hatt, my adopted Uncle and Aunt who have never failed to be there for me when I needed them.

- Rev. Bonnie Brandon and the congregation of St. Andrews Episcopal Church for coming through for myself and my family when everything looked bad.

- Baron Micky Von Dolenz-Gibson (Micky), my cat and writing partner for making life more interesting.

- My second family Kriste Clark, Christina Lopez and Kriste’s children Azariah and Izayah for being my light.

- My parents Michael and Nora Gibson, and Carol Gibson (the best stepmother anyone could ever hope for) and of course…

- My children, Joanne and Quentin, who are my heart and soul – forever.

In Loving Memory of

Laura Lee Clark-Lopez

April 13, 1969 – November 4, 2014

"Miss LaLa, The Aries Queen"

I never saw you as a dainty butterfly,

You were more of a mother dragon

You can fly free now.

I’ll see you again someday, in the skies

Prelude

The scene before Thamson was a familiar one.

He was inside the King’s stateroom on board The Leander, standing in the corner completely unseen. The objects surrounding him were so dark and hazy that he couldn’t discern any noticeable details.

But he had been there so many times before, that it made no difference. He knew what was about to happen and was completely powerless to prevent it.

King Benedict, a slender, dark haired man sat at a desk writing on a piece of parchment paper. Benedict ruled the island nation of Maraquay. The ship was named for his only son, whose portrait hung on the wall behind him.

Benedict sat his quill pen down and looked over what he had just written. Thamson could hear someone knocking on the door as Benedict grimaced. A tall, husky gentleman with a shaggy beard walked in and approached the king. Thamson believed he was the captain of the ship, Steffan.

Thamson could only understand a few words as the men talked. Their voices were barely audible and the words seemed to echo.

Lt. Avis just succumbed to his wounds, Capt. Steffan seemed to say.

Only ten men out of twenty-five…striking a devastating blow against the evil…cut down over a hundred of the disgusting little spawn…, Benedict replied.

…the assault was a rousing success? Were they hard to kill? Steffan asked.

Not at all... swords cut right through the eggs… hatchlings were easily beheaded or crushed under our boots… stupid things actually… they made a fatal error.

And the… Queen came upon you? Capt. Steffan asked, crossing his arms.

We were just getting ready to retreat. I was surprised that we didn’t lose more men than we did.

And the prince?

The boy did quite well. Speaking of which, have you seen him?

Oh yes. He is on deck with some of the men, listening to their wild stories.

Excellent.

After a moment of silence, Capt. Steffan stepped closer to the king, and started to speak. Thamson couldn’t hear everything that was being said, but the conversation appeared to be heated.

We completely demoralized them, Benedict shouted, standing up. If they were going to retaliate…they will be too busy...

A sudden, bloodcurdling scream interrupted King Benedict’s chastisement of the captain. Benedict grabbed his sword as he rushed out with Capt. Steffan following closely behind.

Thamson suddenly found himself on the deck staring at what the other men were staring at – a grotesque, writhing mass of raw flesh and scales thrashing around on the deck while it screamed in abject agony. Near the creature was a pile of shredded, bloody clothing. The guards and soldiers on the deck were frozen in fear.

The King appeared, his face turning a deathly pale as he screamed at the soldiers.

My son…how could you just let…

Your highness, an older soldier stammered, approaching the king. You don’t understand, that is…

Tears poured down the Kings face as he continued to scream at the men. He then rushed forward, sword at the ready, and sliced into the neck of the beast. He buried the blade deep into its abdomen repeatedly until it finally collapsed in a bloody heap. Benedict removed the sword from the creature and threw it down on the deck. That is how you kill a dragon, he screamed. What do you have to say for yourselves? I should have all of you executed for allowing…

Benedict fell to his knees and began to weep. Moments later, the body of the beast started to twitch. Benedict looked up to see the quivering mass of dead dragon flesh turn into the dead body of Prince Leander.

Benedict shook his head in disbelief then screamed at the exact moment that Thamson did.

Thamson’s eyes opened as he tried desperately to catch his breath.

He had been having that same dream for – he didn’t quite know how long. Years. He had never gotten used to dreaming of all the violence and the blood. The slaughter of Prince Leander caused Thamson’s nerves to feel like they were under attack. His head ached, his spine felt as though tiny arrows had pierced it and his muscles trembled terribly.

What made the dream worse for Thamson was that everything that he dreamt about had really happened. It had been a considerable number of years before he had been born, but the images haunted him.

As Thamson attempted to adjust his eyes to the sunlight, he could see the beach littered with seaweed and the bones of a countless number of sea animals that had washed ashore. He also saw a pile of battered wood that was clearly debris from several shipwrecks - as though someone had made a crude shrine to the mysterious ships that had appeared in Meridia over the centuries. Thamson didn't care that some people considered the appearances of the ships divine interventions from the Almighty or not - it was an eyesore.

He grimaced, imagining how horrified the people of Maraquay would be to see such a sight on their shores. Every inch of Maraquay was immaculate; from the mountain range to the forests, and of course their own beaches.

Thamson would return occasionally, hoping to be able to see his family again. However, he would leave after a short time, when it became clear that there was no chance of a reunion.

There was something that kept making him want to go back; something other than feeling homesick for the beautiful island he had called home in his youth, or the desire to see his family. Thamson didn’t know what that feeling was, but he felt it pulling at him and he decided it was time to set off for home, once again.

Part One

Village Meeting

Seth Armitage, Lord Chancellor for the royal family of Maraquay, combed his disheveled, dark brown hair from his eyes as he watched the seats in the town hall quickly start to fill in

It was Seth’s responsibility to represent Queen Abigail and King Thomas in whatever grievances or concerns that the people of Maraquay had, and he loved carrying out those responsibilities, no matter how heated some situations could get. But at that particular time he really did not wish to be there.

All Seth cared about was that the pain behind his eyes would go away and that the meeting would hurry by as quickly as possible. He had arrived back in Maraquay in the dead of the night and had gotten very little sleep.

Still, he thought it might be pleasant enough if he didn’t have to deal with the Commander of the Royal Army, Sir Roland.

Seth’s hopes were dashed the moment Sir Roland took a seat at the table next to him.

"Please," Seth thought. Do not let me have to speak to this braying jackass.

Our Lord Armitage, it’s good to have you home! Sir Roland cheerfully greeted as he clapped Seth on the shoulder. You’re looking well.

Seth groaned. He certainly did not look well. Sir Roland was clearly oblivious to his disheveled appearance.

How is the situation in Arvestia now? Roland asked. I trust Queen Morindia had no problem claiming her rightful place on the throne.

Yes, the situation was very nearly well in hand by the time I arrived, Seth stated. He knew full well that the Queen no longer answered to Morindia, but he was too tired and in too pain to correct Sir Roland, nor offer any explanation to the name change. It was an uneventful trip.

So, no phantom ships appeared out of nowhere to spoil your voyage? Sir Roland asked, with a cocky smirk.

Seth ignored him, deciding that the twit wasn’t worth the energy and instead turned his attention to the crowd of people in front of him. The audience consisted mostly of farmers with their workers or family members. He was pleased to see that he was on friendly terms with most of the crowd, but he spotted one person that made him uncomfortable to be around.

Martyn Rye, the owner of the farm that supplied wheat to the royal family, sat several rows away and scowled at Seth as their eyes met. Martyn never gave him problems, but he always flashed an evil eye at Seth whenever their paths crossed.

Martyn had taken a seat next to his long time farm hands and the village doctor; a tall, heavyset young man named James.

None of them were fond of Seth, and they had every reason not to be.

Well, well, look who decided to show her face.

Seth looked up to see Sir Curtiss, the village constable, taking the seat on his right.

Tell me it’s not that horrid Rye woman, Sir Roland replied, looking to the front doors. Seth looked towards the crowd and saw the woman in question.

It was Martyn’s twin sister, Melynda.

Seth watched Melynda nervously twirling her hair around her fingers as she took a seat in the back of the hall. To him, it seemed the forty year old hadn’t aged a day in the twenty years since he ended their engagement. She was still as beautiful as she was when they were teenagers.

What the bloody hell is that pikey cow doing here? Sir Roland hissed, interrupting Seth’s thoughts. Get her out of here, Curtiss!

You sit down, Seth snapped, briefly looking over at Curtiss, who had rose from his seat. Turning towards Sir Roland, he continued, And you mind your tongue. These meetings have always been opened to all citizens of Maraquay. Now, get on with it.

Sir Roland stood up abruptly with a sneer.

Gentlemen, he called out. I hereby call this meeting of Maraquay Village to order. I know you have some special concerns regarding your missing property, and our Lord Chancellor has agreed to meet with us so he can address these concerns directly to the King and Queen. Who would like to begin?

A gruff, bearded man stood as Sir Roland took his seat.

Lord Armitage, I am Cedric Lastley, I own a sheep farm just outside of the village, he stated. Some of my sheep have gone missing, at least four over the last couple of weeks. Just gone, like they were never there.

M’Lord, my name is Gus Barnes and I have had the same problem, another farmer interjected as he stood. A couple of my pigs disappeared.

You sure it wasn’t a wild animal? one of Martyn’s farm hands, Robert asked. Like a wild dog or maybe a bear?

I thought so too, Gus replied. But a wild animal would have left something behind. The pigs just vanished.

Just like with my sheep, Cedric added.

Is it possible that they were stolen? Seth asked.

They would have turned up someplace, Cedric stated.

Not really, Martyn’s other farmhand, David replied. Maraquay is a big place, and not everyone here is as trustworthy as we like to think. The animals could have been sold to someone else, not knowing that they were obtained by theft.

Or they could have been butchered and eaten already, Seth added. Did you find any tracks that around that didn’t belong?

Nothing out of the ordinary, another man replied, standing up. One of my cows vanished just a few days ago, but I found nothing, just the normal sets of footprints we usually see.

It sounds to me, Sir Roland stated, leaning back in his chair. Like there could be a dragon lurking about. They can eat these animals whole.

Seth whipped his head around and looked at Sir Roland as though the man had lost his mind. Leave it to him to whip the masses into a frenzy, he thought.

That makes no sense, David protested, as some of the men in the hall called out for the something to be done, or like him, thought the idea that a dragon was to blame was nonsense. You were just told that there were no unusual footprints where the animals vanished, so you immediately jump to a dragon being the cause? Are you daft? Dragons leave footprints.

They can also fly, Cedric shot back, turning towards David. It makes sense. The thing needs to die.

Gentlemen, Sir Roland called out, standing up. I hear what you are saying, and I agree one hundred percent. I will gather up some of men to help you track this beast down and mount it’s head on a--

Now just wait, Melynda shouted, standing up. Is this what civilized men do when faced with an issue like this? Immediately call for a creature’s blood? None of us have any proof it’s done anything wrong and it’s not attacking humans, so why the rush to destroy it?

Her statement was met with jeers and laughter. One man stood up and pointed at her, shouting, Traitor! Others joined him.

I am not a traitor! she argued, as stepped towards the table. Perhaps we can locate it and work out some kind of compromise!

Compromise? You must be mad, woman, Sir Roland sneered. I suggest you keep quiet about this if you know what’s good for you, dragon lover.

We have had no conflicts with the dragons for the last three years, why are you so quick to start a new one? Melynda shouted. Because that’s what going to happen. It’s never going to stop and it will only get worse if we keep slaughtering everything that’s different from us for merely existing!

Seth then heard someone say, She’d probably lay with a dragon if she could, and started to feel sick. The rest of the crowd erupted into laughter.

Seth looked up at her as she turned to him. Next to David, she was the only person in the entire hall that seemed to have any common sense. No one had brought forward any proof that a dragon was on the island, much less it being responsible for the livestock vanishing, and now they were screaming for blood. He looked at Melynda, not saying a word, and then watched as she turned towards Martyn, who coldly looked away. He continued to stare at her as she took a deep breath and calmly exited the Hall as the crowd continued to shout jeers at her.

That’s enough! Robert shouted, as David ran after Melynda.

You should all be ashamed, James added, standing next to Robert. "She said nothing that called for such ugly slander to be thrown at