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My Father's Dragon

Part 2

Allister, the long time warg of Faedon, knelt by the unconscious dragon. It was a wreck. Blood everywhere, bits and pieces missing here and there, but not fatal. Dragons were hardy, it would just take time. Tarragon had taken it much worse before and even then, both dragons and wargs had died to get Tarragon to that point. No one had died tonight.

“She won't be happy," Allister said, slicking back his longer black hair. He hadn't had the chance to apply his normal product, so his hair was doing its own thing. It was annoying.

“Cyvil will understand," Faedon said, slowly rising onto his feet. He groaned with discomfort.

“Perhaps," the human said. He watched Atheleon's breathing. A little ragged and bubbly. “At least you didn't kill him."

Behind him, Faedon limped over to look down at his work. He himself had a few good gnashes, but his scales were harder than Atheleon's. Where the other dragon specializes in attacking at range with his sonic abilities, Faedon was built for close quarters. It was hardly an even fight and yet Atheleon had done his share of damage.

Allister stood up, having to move his hair again. “You're hurt too," he said and looked over his friend. There was a nasty set of slashes across his muzzle. They would scar badly along with a deep bite wound on his hind flank. It would fester if not taken care of soon.

“Don't worry about me," Faedon said, yet he did appreciate the concern. In the world of dragons, there wasn't enough caring. As sappy as it sounded, it was true. It was rare to even find a dragon and a warg who were actually friends. It made Faedon very grateful to have Allister as his warg.

Allister didn't push about the injuries anymore. He would bring them up again later, when there was time and tools to do anything.

“Let's head outside," Allister suggested. He pulled out his phone, already knowing he had no signal. “I'll call in someone to take care of this." He nudged Atheleon with his shoe.

Faedon nodded and then followed his warg out to the fresh air of outside, though what he saw soiled it all.

Instead of there just being a small clearing in front of the cave entrance, surrounded by woods, there was Cyvil, curled up like a hatchling, asleep. Her warg, Marcella, was close by, she looked like she had been knocked out rather than fallen asleep. The prisoner was nowhere is sight and yet the smell was all he needed to know what had happened.

“Tarragon," Faedon hissed and looked around as fear spiked inside of himself. The Marked had been here, been this close to him and he hadn't known.

Allister ran over to Marcella and knelt down. He opened her eyelids with a pair of fingers and shined a light into. “Her eyes are the same color," he said to himself and then wiped off residual dust from under her nose.

“The Lords won't be happy," Faedon sighed and despaired. This was his failure. Not Cyvil's. Not Atheleon's. It was his failure and there would be punishment. The thought of running came to mind, but then he'd be no better than the Marked and less capable.

“No, but what could we do?" Allister asked. The human was aware that his friend would be punished, but he just wanted to give comfort. He himself wouldn't be touched, unless a warg was directly at fault, the mere psychological pain from their mental connection when Faedon's punishment came would be enough.

“Nothing," Faedon sighed. “And that wasn't enough." He looked to the sky. “Never is enough."

—

Riding a dragon was a pretty damn cool if I had to say anything about it. I could feel Tarragon's muscles flex under me with every flap of his broad wings, which compounded the surrealness of it all. I stared across the world. Horizon to horizon, it seemed endless. Trees and mountains, the occasional town or car out for a late night drive. The wind was chilly and my leg throbbed, but how could I care in a place like this? This was what flying was meant to be like.

There was also a part of me that realized just how dangerous this was. Dragons didn't come standard with seatbelts. Only the toughness of the scales and the wideness of Tarragon's back kept me from slipping off. I was thousands of feet up and a single strong gust of wind or a bit of carelessness and I was done for. I tried not to think about it.

“Where are you taking me?" I turned a little to face Terrance behind me. The man had a grim look on his face.

“Home," he answered. “You're under Tarragon's protection. They'll have to deal with him if they want to get to you and I'm not sure they're willing to commit to that."

I looked over to Tarragon's faces his ears were facing back at us, but sheepishly flicked away when I saw that. “What did he do? From what I could gather, he's banished or something."

“He's Marked," Terrance corrected me, “but for you, it's essentially the same."

He was about to say more, but he stopped then and looked at Tarragon. I could see that there was some sort of communication between them.

“That's all you need to know," Terrance said after the awkward pause. “Please don't ask any more about it."

I nodded and changed the subject. At this point, we were starting to hit an area that I recognized. A mountain in the distance with a distinct hook shaped summit was the same one that I would see from my home.

“What about you?" I asked Terrance. “What's your story?"

Terrance seemed a bit shocked that I would ask. “Me?! Hmm." He looked away to the horizon. The sky was beginning to lighten up, a deep pastel pink was beginning to show to the east. “Not much to me. I'm his warg." He pointed at Tarragon.

“Now that's something I don't fully understand," I said and turned my body so I didn't have to crane my neck to see Terrance. I carefully set my leg down on apart of Tarragon's back that didn't move much. “What is it to be a warg. Atheleon hates humans and yet he has a warg."

“It's hard to really explain, but," he gave another long look at Tarragon, but the dragon wasn't watching us. “I'll try to explain it. We're basically extensions of their minds. We have our own personalities and lives, yes, but-“ he paused to think. “But to them, we're a part of them. Atheleon doesn't think of his warg as a human, he thinks of him more like a limb to do his bidding."

“Sounds kind of terrible, to be honest."

Terrance shrugged. “All depends on who the warg serves. I bet it sucks under Atheleon, but Tarragon is more than the dragon I serve, he's my friend." He patted Tarragon's flank and I felt a rumble come from the dragon. “Been through thick and thin together."

I nodded. It gave me a bit more clarity on the subject. Still lots of questions, but I was starting to fall asleep at that point. My body just felt so heavy and so I was grateful when Terrance helped me into my house.

“Tarragon's put a spell over the town," he said as he carefully lifted my leg onto my bed. “They'll accept any story you give about the leg." He pulled out a block of some kind of pungent bread from his pocket and handed it to me. “Eat this."

“What is it?" I asked, taking it and giving it a sniff. It smelled strongly of dirt and maybe a bit of mint.

“It'll help with the leg. Shouldn't have to go to the hospital with this."

I gave the bread, a dark and dense thing, more like dough now that I thought about it, a long hard look. I took a bite and almost spat it out. Tasted like coffee grounds that had been reused a dozen times. Still I managed to eat it all and I swore I could feel the pain begin to fade in my leg to just a slight twinge when I moved.

“We'll be close by, but don't go out looking for trouble," Terrance warned me. “Because there's going to be a lot of it out there and it won't be hard to find."

Those were the last words he said to me before leaving. Shortly after, I heard the sound of the dragon taking off, massive leathery wings displacing enough wind to lift the beast that had to weigh at least two tons. Then there was silence. I was back in my home, alone and I had never felt so vulnerable.

Whatever spell that Terrance had talked about worked exactly like how he said it would. By morning, my legs simply hurt as if I had pulled something and even then, only slightly. I made up a story about tripping on the stairs which was pretty much the truth anyways. Everyone I told ate it up and no one seemed to notice that I had been gone far longer than a simple injury would have taken me for. Everyone except Tommy.

He found me one day in my driveway just as I was coming home from work. It had been a few weeks and despite everything that had happened, I had found my routine again and life was going back to normal again. Normal just wasn't going to be a thing for me anymore.

The long time friend of my dad and constant presence in my life, Tommy.

“Tommy," I grinned at him as I closed my car door. “Haven't seen you in a few. What have you been up to."

Tommy stopped and gave me a long look. Anyone else and I would have gotten uncomfortable, but he was like this at times.

As if a switch was flipped, a glimmer came to Tommy's eyes. “Oh, hey. Yeah. Been busy. Stuff." He looked past me at my home and then at the groceries I had placed at my feet. “Stuff," he echoed and then looked back at me again.

He seemed just a tad more off today than other times, but I thought little of it. “What brings you by at this time?" I looked down at my watch. I got off work just after six each evening and with the shopping it had done, the sun was well on its way down.

He shuffled his feet slightly. “Tarragon came to me the other day. He's been checking up on me regularly." He paused for a moment. “Well, Terrance has, but I know that he is watching you instead."

I didn't say anything at first. It wasn't how I imagined how the conversation would go. Maybe a hello or just something about the weather. Now it seemed that I was going to talk about dragons again.

I got mad then. It was just a gut reaction for some reason. I had just gotten back into the swing of things and now Tommy was reintroducing the oversized lizards back into my life.

“Well," I said through gritted teeth. “You can tell him that I'm doing just fine." I bent over and picked up my bags of groceries. It was a mix of pasta and ingredients to make some spaghetti sauce. When I stood back up, Tommy was much closer. I nearly dropped the bags.

“He needs your help," Tommy said in a tone of voice that I had never heard him use before. I felt that, for a fleeting moment, that he would drag me off and kidnap me if I said no.

“Who?" I asked stupidly.

“Tarragon," he replied and blinked a few times too many for it to be normal. “They came for you last night and he stopped them, but he's hurt now and-“ Tommy hesitated for a moment. His eyes watered a little at the edges, his voice wavering. “I'm sacred now for him, for you, for everyone."

I was still annoyed, that flare of heat rising up in my chest, but it wasn't at Tommy. I could never genuinely get mad at him because he never did anything out of spite or with the intention to hurt someone. He was the most sincere person I knew; incapable of lying or deceit with nothing but good intentions at heart. I wasn't even sure if I was mad at Tarragon either. I was just being selfish at that time. I didn't want my little slice of life to be ruined by some strange dragon politics that went back before I was even born. I wanted to just live my life, but as much as I wanted that, it wasn't going to happen. It was never going to happen and so, with a sigh, I said, “let me put my groceries away first."

Half an hour later, we were driving away from town towards the desert to the east in my small car with my house call med bag. There wasn't a whole lot out there, but I was just following Tommy's directions which I'm not even sure how he knew where to take us. He didn't drive and so I couldn't think of how he knew where to take us, but he pointed out every turn that I needed to make as if he had driven this route a thousand times.

The highway I was on turned to a pot hole infested back road and then to a dirt road and then I wasn't even sure if I was on a road anymore as my car drove across the arid desert.

“I don't think my- my car can handle much of this," I said, nearly yelling over the racket of driving over gravely and uneven sand. I was bouncing in my seat, occasionally hitting my head on the ceiling of the car. One of my high beams had stopped working about ten minutes ago.

Tommy looked just fine. Not a fleck of worry on his face. He wasn't even holding onto the hand hold by the door. “Not much farther." He pointed ahead towards a cluster of trees that were at the edge of a stream that I had not known was there. “Right there."

I few minutes later and the car was parked. As I stepped out, I noted the sizzling coming from the engine. The car was older and due to die, but not for a few years. I guess I was going to be buying a new car much sooner than expected.

With a sigh, left the car behind and began to walk towards the trees. Tommy was right behind me. He walked with the spring of anxiety in his step as a flash of worry crossed his face.

“Let's go. Let's go," he said, not necessarily to me or anyone as he passed me. “It's getting close."

“What's getting close?" I said to him and sped up my pace to keep up with him. I clutched my bag a bit tighter. I looked up and around, suddenly remembering that dragons could fly.

About fifty meters from the grove of trees, I smelled something burning. It stuck to the back of my throat and made me cough.

At twenty meters, I saw my first dead person. It was unrecognizable at first until I was right next to it.

“Oh, god," I said and held back a gag as I covered my mouth with my sleeve.

It was more of a mass of burnt bone and meat, maybe there was some clothes in there. It was hard to tell. I could only tell that it was a person because of the outstretched arm that reached for the sky.

After him were the other bodies, dragons and humans alike, or rather wargs I suppose.

Tommy didn't seem to see them at all.

Another body. That of a dragon. It had scorch marks across its body and multiple lacerations all over it. It's throat was also ripped out.

I tried to not look anymore after that and stepped past them all and into the grove.

There was a man there on the ground as well. Not dead, so I chanced a look. He was breathing and his face was covered in a fine powder, but the thing I noticed was his eyes. One was brown and looked natural, the other was pulsing from a deep, almost glowing green to a red. I kept a wide berth from him.

There was a dragon in the grove waiting for us and I recognized it as Faedon from back in the cave.

“I would be lying if I were to say I am glad to see you again?" Faedon said in a low rumbling voice. His warg was at his side with bandages and applying them to Faedon's left haunch which was drenched in blood.

“Uhh, yeah. Likewise," I replied, unsure if I should be worried or not.

Faedon bowed his head slightly to me and then his gaze set on Tommy. “Tarragon. Quickly."

Tommy tugged at my shirt and I followed again deeper into the grove.

“What's going on," I hissed.

Tommy answered without looking back, “The other dragons decided that they didn't like the idea of you being a living witness and so, they were going to come for you. Tarragon stopped them here and I guess a few other dragons also didn't like that idea as well."

“Ok," I nodded. “Why am I here then?"

“Tarragon was hurt pretty bad." Tommy didn't offer up anything else because we were there.

“I didn't notice it before," a familiar voice said out of the shadow of some trees. “But not that you stand here under the light of the full moon, I see it now." Tarragon lifted his head up from some tall grass. One of his eyes were swollen shut. He had a pretty bad set of gnarly gashes under his chin. I'm sure the rest of his body was in similar shape. “You really are a spitting image of your father."

“This is the second time you've saved me now," I said and then looked behind me. “A lot died for this. For me." There was an edge to my voice that I hadn't intended to put there, but betrayed some of my feelings.

“Not just for you," Tarragon said and then coughed. It was wet and sounded very unhealthy. “For an ideal going back centuries. You... your father were merely a catalyst for moving it along to the next stage, the stage where it's worth fighting for and spilling blood for." Tarragon fell silent for a moment. “Politics that you don't need to hear right now."

When I got closer to Tarragon to see him in his entirety, doubt settled inside of me. There really wasn't a part of him that hadn't been touched and I didn't know where to start.

“I've been through worse," Tarragon said when he saw my face.

“Liar," I muttered and then set to work.

Time passed quickly then. I went into an autopilot as all of my years of experience culminated to this one moment. I moved from one wound to the next. They were mostly flesh wounds, deep and shallow, but not life threatening. I cleaned them with alcohol and stitched them up as best as I could, ignoring the occasional hiss of pain from the dragon. Tommy helped every once in a while, finding and grabbing me anything I needed.

“Humans and dragons aren't too different," Tarragon started talking again. Maybe it was to help him keep his mind busy or maybe he had lost too much blood. I wasn't sure. “We're all so stubborn. Once we have our mind on something, it takes the world to change it no matter how stupid it is." He coughed a few times more, the shaking of his body made a few of my stitches go wide, but not by much. “Maybe I was stupid. Maybe. Maybe they were. It's so hard to tell. I think I'm so right, absolute right, but for it to go this far, they sure believe that they're right as well."

I listened with only half an ear because I stopped at his gut. It wasn't just a simple cut. It was deeper and more life threatening, probably fatal.

“You'll have to go in," A voice said behind me. It was Terrance. I don't know how long he was there for or where he came from, but he was there. “He'll curse and probably threaten to kill you, but you'll have to go in to try and fix the damage."

I looked up at Terrance. He wasn't in good shape either. He was missing his ring finger on his left hand and blood was soaking through his tattered shirt. I could see the glistening of meat there as well, but he didn't seem affected by it.

“I don't know if I can fix that," I said, pointing at the abdominal wound and then gestured all around me. “This isn't a sterile environment. I don't have the right tools. This is surgery."

“Your father didn't let him die," he said, holding his passive face. “I don't think you will either."

I grunted annoyance and then looked back at the wound. With a bit of hesitation and the though of infection on my mind, I reached towards the open wound.

“Tommy, give me light," I said and Tommy quickly grabbed a flashlight and shined it on the wound. It quivered and moved as Tarragon inhaled sharply.

I pulled back the two sides of the gash and looked inside. I saw his guts and they weren't pretty. Tears here and there with lots more blood. There was nothing to do but go at it.

It was slimy and a mess. Tarragon did exactly as Terrance said. He cursed me and did threaten to kill me in a colorful number of ways, but did absolutely nothing to stop me.

With no prior experience on actual surgery minus a few chapters from various textbooks that I had read, I wasn't sure if I was actually doing anything helpful as I stitched Tarragon's insides back together, but I felt that I was doing good.

Most of the bleeding had stopped at this point and I could see much better. It became easier to move from one wound to the next. I wiped away the blood and quickly began stitching, wiping away more blood when I needed to. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat until suddenly I was out of the wound and closing it up. There was daylight out at that point and Terrance had gone ahead and taken care of all of the other wounds since they weren't serious.

I stood up. The job was done. I was so physically and mentally exhausted at this point, but I felt a wave of calm wash over me.

“You- you- you done poking me with your infernal instruments?" Tarragon asked with a weak voice. Color had drained from his scales. I didn't think that possible, but I'm no expert of dragon anatomy. He had his head rested on the ground. His one good eye was closed and his breathing was shallow, but he was alive.

Faedon was nearby now, watching with interest, but didn't approach. His warg stood next to him, his hand resting on a gun of some sort. I felt a little uneasy with him there, but as long as he didn't get closer, I was fine.

“I- i think you're going to be okay," I said with no real idea if it was true or not. Infection was such a big possibility. I wanted to head back to the office and get every syringe I had in the building, every antibiotic, every vitamin injections, anything.

“Perhaps," Tarragon said, “regardless, once again I find myself in the debt of your family as well as Tommy. The Lords will never understand the genuine resolve and ability to care that exists in humans."

“That's what I don't get," I said. “What's even going on?"

“It's a story that stretches back centuries," Faedon said and began to approach. I shifted to keep Tarragon between myself and him. Can you blame me for being suspicious? “All of your fairy tails and stories of fanciful worlds of magic stem from some truth. There is another side of this little planet that you don't see or only get a glimpse of. The worlds crossed slightly during the crusades when the werewolves made deals with the Catholic Church."

“Werewolves?" I blurted out in disbelief.

Faedon frowned at my interruption before continuing. “When that fell through, debate arose among other groups if interaction with humanity should be banned. Some agreed. Others did not. Lords of Dragonflight, our leaders, wanted to stop all interaction, but some didn't." Faedon looked down at Tarragon.

“I had pioneered a resistance against the Lords and was Marked for it, forever shunned and those who helped me would be hunted down," Tarragon spoke up. There was a little more strength to his voice and color was already coming back. “It was suppose to end my little tirade of disobedience and even was seen as a sanction for my death. I was attacked and wounded. Tommy came upon me and recruited your father to save my life. However I had broken the Lord's commands through my interactions with you father and then again after a second interaction. Only through the intervention of a few level headed individuals was your father and Tommy spared and also that I possess abilities that prevent most from truly challenging me."

Faedon cut in, “We have all existed side by side since the beginning of our individual race's existence with little true incidence. I found it extreme to damn your father for his goodwill. Now the Lords have all but declared war on mankind and make their way to the World Stone."

“The what?" I raised an eyebrow.

“There's not enough time in the entire world to explain?" Tarragon chuckled and then began to move. He shifted his legs under himself and began to push up, struggling to support his own weight.

“Whoa," I said and placed my hands gently on his side. “You need rest."

“I need to get moving," he retorted. “I'll rest once the Lords have either come to their senses or they lie dead and unable to harm anyone again." He stood up on shaky legs. Terrance was there was well, doing what he could to help his dragon.

“He's right," Terrance said. Worry lines creased his face. “You need rest. Let the others do their part for now. You've done more than enough."

“I haven't done enough!" Tarragon snapped. “They go for the World Stone!" He stretches his wings out and gave them a few experimental flaps. The gust pushed me back a few steps. “That's where I'll be too."

I could tell that Faedon, his warg and Terrance all wanted to argue, but something stopped them.

I started getting a head ached when Tarragon spoke the words, “sleep. Forget."

I collapsed, but didn't pass out. My mind was a swirl of confusing and unintelligible thoughts. I was no more able than a jelly fish at that moment. I couldn't even focus on anything I was seeing or even remember what was was happening as it happened. My entire existence consisted of now.

Then clearness. I regained myself again.

“You saved my life," Tarragon spoke.

I sat up, rubbing my throbbing head. The others, Tommy included, were passed out. Tarragon stood tall, facing away from me.

“For that, I can't take these moments from you," he spoke, his voice was quiet and solemn. “However, I fear that I go to my doom in order to repay you and your father for everything."

“I don't understand," I said.

A slight smile crept the sides of his lips. “It's better that way." The smile faded just as quickly as it appeared. “Go home. Live your life. If I succeed, it will be long and purposeful, I know it. If I don't, then..." he paused and I got the idea. “However, I may yet still die, but all for good cause and we won't meet again either way. I've caused too much interference in your life and too much disruption. It all ends after today."

It was my turn to speak now. My legs were stable enough to hold me, so I stood and Tarragon turned his head so he could regard me with an eye. “I don't know you well, but I do understand that you are giving up a lot for me. I know that my father, Tommy and you were all close and that he trusted you, so, I'll trust you. I'm just sorry that we couldn't get to know each other better."

“You humans are truly unique and wonderful creatures," he said and extended his wings. His face, for a moment, showed pain. “Goodbye."

His wings gave a roaring beat and I was knocked over again. I never let my eyes leave him as he took off, leaving all of us behind. I stayed there well after he had gone from view and the others began to wake.

“What?" Terrance said and shook his head. “What happened."

Faedon growled and stood up. “I don't remember anything."

“Neither do I," his warg said.

Tommy got up last and went over to me. He was alright.

They all looked to me.

“He's gone," I said quietly.

“He's g-“ Terrance stopped and looked up, panic coming to him fast. “We have to go!" He yelled.

“Go?" Faedon cocked his head to the side.

Terrance ran over to Faedon. “Quickly! Tarragon! He's going for the World Stone to stop the Lords alone. I just know it."

The same panic came to the others except for Tommy and I, who watched the other quickly get into Faedon.

“Why didn't you stop him?" Terrance said accusingly to me from Faedon's back. “You just let him go."

“I had to," I said with no tone to my voice.

The answer obviously didn't satisfy Terrance as he sneered at me. A moment later, Faedon took to the skies as well and it was just me and Tommy.

“We aren't going to see them again, are we," Tommy said. It wasn't a question.

“Let's go home," I told Tommy. I collected my things and we headed back to my car which managed to sputter to a start and stay on long enough for us to get home. I wished Tommy farewell and then went inside where I sat down in my living room.

I never did see them again and shortly afterwards, Tommy vanished as well. I never figured out where he went, but a part of me knew that he knew exactly where he was going.

I never learned what exactly was going on the world of dragons, the politics or the strife that had led to the confrontations that I had witnessed. I still don't understand. I was merely a few pages in a story that stretched well before my time.

Years went by and now I write this. I don't write it as a plea to see Tarragon or other dragons or this mystical world that exists parallel to the one I know. I write it so that I don't forget because it's worth remembering and maybe... just maybe, these words will reach someone who knows someone or something and can pass on the word to Tarragon... if he lives, thank you because I know you succeeded because I'm still here, we're all still here. Whatever happened at this World Stone, you succeeded and for that I'm grateful.