SINGED

“You dishonor me,” he said. “I did not ask for mercy. I would have given none in return.”

“I require your service,” I said, sniffing. “Your honor is not my concern. I will be in and out. I do not want to be chief. I’m satisfied with being Dragon. I will come again soon though for the present, take me outside. I want to survey my new lands.”

Gribnor shook his head disapprovingly, but he still bowed lower than normal.

“As you wish, Dragon,” he said. “I will take you outside.”

He led me to a cave mouth that overlooked a glittering bay, shining in bright sunlight, but he declined to accompany me further, stating that the sun hurt his eyes and gave him a headache. I did not pressure him further. I wanted to be alone. The air was crisp, clean. It was early morning, the sun was young in the sky.

Lindor was nowhere to be seen. A towering wall of the largest mountains I’ve ever seen loomed at my back, the sun sparkling off snowcaps far above, causing them to shine like sheets of diamonds. I was below the tree line. Just down the hill from the cave, and all about it, stood tall silent evergreens with a scattering of oaks and aspens.

I could not hear the comforting murmur of the collective Lindorian consciousness. If I concentrated though I could hear the faintest whisper of local human minds. They called to me from across the bay and distantly I saw smoke trails rising from morning cook fires, smudging the brilliant blue sky.

Of course, I must go to them to feed. I was so close to the transformation for which I yearned. I was plagued by the revenant of my human self. I wanted to be free of it. Despite my resolution I could feel the pendulum swing of my consciousness and it was preparing to swing back toward my humanness. With it would come only pain and remorse.

Dragon felt no remorse. I was at peace, or as close as a dragon comes to such things. When my human season returned though I would feel the eternal loss of Miranda and Sal. I would feel alone, and I would feel guilt. Deep down I was beginning to suspect the terrible lie the Dragonking had whispered into my heart. I had made a great sacrifice when I chose to feed upon men, for now, when I became one, I knew that I was a murderer. Now I was a monster no matter what form I took. I had excommunicated myself from humanity. I was an outsider who could only find community amongst other killers. Despite everything I had done to exorcise my humanity, it returned, like a horrible shade to torment me.

I could have killed Gribnor, should have killed him. He was a huge liability. If I showed even the slightest weakness he would turn it against me. Given the chance, he would kill me, despite his odd servitude to the spirit of Dragon. Yet he was the closest thing I now had to a friend.

That was why, even though I could not yet admit it to myself, I was drawn to the whisper of humanity. I was lonely.

My draconic features had lingered longer than they normally did, but because of my wounded wing, I was reduced to walking. It was not unpleasant though to stroll through the woods and down to the shore.

What would the villagers think of a stranger from the wild entering their little settlement? There was a small contingent of ships clustered together far across the harbor and I could make out the dark lines of the barricade surrounding the tiny township.

The forest that hugged the coast showed signs of modest logging but was still healthy and robust. Only one or two solitary cottages dared the wilderness beyond the stockade wall. As I progressed about the shoreline, I chanced upon the charred remains of a farm burned to cinders with clawed tracks in the mud. Of course my nethergrim kept the human invaders at bay on the bay.

In fact, I was surprised they prospered at all with Gribnor’s clan so frightfully close. I would inquire about that when I returned. However I had decided rather spontaneously that the settlement should remain for the present. Not, mind you, because I was lonely for human companionship. No, I was already denying that to myself again.

The thought came unbidden, as I rounded the promontory that extracted me from the forest and aligned me with the settlement. Perhaps the mysterious connection between human thoughts processes and self-awareness was inextricable. I remembered my mental meanderings as I regarded the water drakes before they reached my star-crossed vessel.

If it was the symbiotic relationship between men and dragons that granted great wurms self-awareness, then the human part of me was far more than a disguise. The thought irritated me, and as the truth of it rang in my ears I became increasingly agitated, until I was shaking. If this was true, then to divorce myself from the human part of me could be like amputating a limb, or worse.

Could I lose my intellect and regress into a mindless animal? Cyndr had retained his mind if not his humanity. I had not witnessed it but from Cayn’s confession about Alister it appeared Cyndr was aware. This was another reason to gain at least the ambivalence of the ancient wurm. Did not Cyndr still walk in human form often enough to appear as a reclusive king for his human subjects? Had I imagined that? It made sense though.

I pushed the thought away. I was thinking too much. What if I did forget myself with the full conversion to dragon form? It would be blissful ignorance. Yet my pride would not admit such a concession, and surely pride of all emotions was a truly draconic one. Well, come what may, I would not fear. I was Dragon. Why should I give up anything, I thought?The gates to the settlement beckoned me through the trees.

Very well then, I would be human today, just for today, and why think beyond that. I could have whims and today I was a man. All my dragon parts were finally hidden safely within; wings and tail gone, teeth and claws absent.

What a sight I remained though. I was clad in rags that had not been washed in moons and looked like they had been rented apart by a wild beast. I halted, still out of sight of the guards at the gate. So close to humanity, I was so close, but I was a filthy beast. I would not receive a warm welcome like this.

I stalked about the borders of the village until dusk, and then, it was a simple matter to scale the wooden wall and slip soundlessly into a dark alley. I had become accustomed to living hidden among men in Lindor, but Lindor was a much larger city with sewers and abandoned old shacks all along the docks. This town was still very young with far less shadowy corners in which to lurk.

Still I would make due. I would not be able to remain hidden indefinitely here, but I also wasn’t being stalked by the cult of the ancient dragon. In fact, here maybe I could start my own chapter. I could at least remain hidden until I could acquire new apparel and capture some coin. I did just that, seizing a creeping tom who I felt in my dark heart was up to no good, and I did the human community the favor of meting out quick justice upon him. No reason to make him pine away in prison. I was mercifully quick.

I was careful not to stain his garments too terribly. They were slightly baggy as I returned to my frail human shape, but I rolled up the sleeves and tucked the tunic into my breeches to contain the surplus fabric. At least the boots were almost a perfect fit, and there was a small pouch of coppers hidden inside one of them.

There, I was human again. I strolled into the inn on the waterfront and rented a room for the next fortnight. In short order I requested hot water and dinner be brought to my room. I did it so confidently the portly innkeeper and his wife gladly complied. I insisted on paying in advance for all my meals and to have new clothes bought and brought after I had fully scrubbed the dirt from my human flesh.

I ate heartily over the next several days, every time I had the urge to go hunting, and slowly the mortal fair regained its taste to some extent.

“How did you arrive?” asked the innkeeper timidly after a few days. “Normally we only receive travelers from the ships that bring new colonists and supplies. Every now and then a merchant vessel arrives but they are few.”

“I arrived by land,” I replied. “To be honest, I have been lost in the wilderness for some time, but now I am finally safe back in civilization. Your little hamlet saved me before I turned into a feral beast.”

He laughed. I looked the site when I arrived, he had agreed. I was so charming he couldn’t help but believe me and how else could I have come.

“You are fortunate not to run into any nethergrim out there,” he chided me, waggling a fat finger amiably in my face.

“I saw signs of them,” I confessed, “but fortunately nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Will you be staying long?” he asked.

“I intend to, yes,” I said, “in the region anyway. I will try to find some business associates. Hopefully I can be of benefit to the community.”

At night I stalked the streets despite myself, but I was careful. I only took victims that had murder in mind, so I stayed hungry except for proper food of the nonhuman variety. After the fortnight I returned to the cave.

“Why have you not plundered the village?” I asked Gribnor.

I had learned the town was called Far Reach and it was a barony, newly bestowed upon a profitable trade foreman from Lindor named Phineas Crowshanks.

Gribnor shrugged, as he often did.

“Let them grow fat,” he grunted, “then we pluck them.”

“I don’t want them harvested,” I said, “until I am finished with them.”

Gribnor shrugged again.

“Dragon commands. Soon we join wars in Northern Marches.”

“Good,” I replied. “Stay strong. I will be ready to petition the Dragonlord soon. We will need to fight to prove our worth.”

I demanded the nethergrim bring sacrifices from their spoils. They brought me stolen weapons and other sundry supplies from raided caravans. I took these back with me to Far Reach.

“I am a trader,” I told people, and I set up shop on Main Street during the day.

In the evenings I frequented the taverns. I found the seedy corners of the town, the haunts of thieves and pirates. I began to gather those dissatisfied by the rule of the baron and to incite rebellion. We could take Far Reach for our own, I whispered.

Like a malignant growth beneath the skin, I fostered a new chapter of the Cult of Dragon in the shadows of Far Reach. Yet I was my own worst enemy. Every time I found a strong henchman willing to do the dark deeds necessary for my little revolution, I became critical of him or her. If they had the spiltblood of innocents in mind, even though I planned nothing less myself, I would become disenchanted. I would decide they were not the leaders I wanted, and vindictively would find an excuse to remove them. I would take them out, and they did not return. I was doing a better job of cleaning up crime inFar Reach than the baron’s guards.

“Why would you want to kill other grim?” I asked.

“Because they’re weak,” Gribnor said. “They hide in the grass. They will not live in caves. They like the sun. They can only take what they need. They’re not strong enough to take trophies to honor Dragon. They dishonor you.”

“Well, do as you must,” I replied.

Then one night I had a dream. I was in a dark wood, beside a silver shining pool, and you were there. You distracted me, asking me questions without words but I remembered you.

You gazed at me with your mysterious dark eyes and your faint knowing smile, cocking your head to the side like a bird. Did you think I would forget? I knew it was a question, and then I woke. I was dreaming more and more often. Sometimes I would wake and not know where I was. Then I would remember, and I would weep.