Drakath’s Hoard of Lost and Abandoned Children

The cry of a human infant was very distinctive.

Soaring high above the forest, Drakath heard it and swiftly banked into a dive, narrowing in on the sound. He ignored the curse and near-yank on his horns from his passenger at the sudden change in motion, landing on the lowest branch capable of holding his weight, craning his neck down as far as he could.

His passenger clung stubbornly to her place, “Drakath, this is becoming a problem.”

The infant cried again, as likely to attract hungry wild animals as its absent caretakers. Drakath sighed, “It’s a drop of a few meters, if that. Besides, there’s a pack of wolves a league or so south, and a clearing only a brisk walk to the north. I’ll meet you there.”

A quick shake of his head and neck, and Andromache's death-grip loosened. She dropped to the forest floor, still grumbling. “Like that’s supposed to encourage me…should have taken that shepherd up on his offer…”

Drakath rolled his eyes, waiting until Andi was out of range before he launched himself skyward in a shower of falling branches. No doubt Andi would have a lecture for him later, but he would also have a new child for his hoard, so it evened out.

Andromache had been the first of his children, years ago when Drakath had only just worked out what it was his hoarding instincts were pulling him towards. She'd been a simple peasant girl, a resident of the village near where he'd landed and decided to settle. By sunrise the next day, she was also the only virgin the village had left, and thus became the default sacrifice.

(Andi hadn't said much about it, only that she considered the possibility of death by immolation preferable to sleeping with any of the men who offered. Drakath could respect that, and having a human available to visit the nearest village for supplies cut down on the screaming and general panic that tended to occur when Drakath tried to do the shopping.)

Andromache had been the first, but certainly not the last. Much like Drakath's latest acquisition, humans tended to lose or abandon their offspring with appalling regularity. Drakath took those children in, along with the occasional child who sought him out.

The downside, of course, was that children with tragic backstories and raised in the wild (as part of a Dragon's Hoard apparently counted, as far as Fate was concerned) had a tendency to grow up to become Heroes or Adventurers.

Not all, of course. Andromache had banded together with some of the other earlier arrivals as combination parent-figures to the rest of his hoard, and an attempt at keeping his hoarding instincts under control. (The former was effective, the latter met with limited success.) And then there were the Seventh Children and Despised Step-Children, with such unpredictable luck that they tended to blunder into adventures or fairytales-in-progress no matter how hard they tried to avoid them.

On the bright side, it meant that Drakath's Hoard, whenever they ran into trouble, had a small army of Prophecy Children, Heroes, and people who would fight the gods if given the opportunity, to call upon for back up.

Yusula and Rani were waiting for them at the cave entrance, arms folded and exchanging sympathetic glances with Andromache. "Again, Drakath?"

Andi slid carefully down, infant in her arms. "I tried to stop him. Bright side, this one probably won't result in a mob trying to get them back."

Yusula, a former prince and the sole survivor of a royal coup, who a budding Rebellion wanted to use as a figurehead, rolled his eyes. "I already apologized for that; I'm not doing so again."

Rani, whose mother had rallied the village in an attempt to retrieve her after her Wicked Stepfather sent her to get lost in the woods, but decided that Andi and living with a dragon were more attractive prospects, patted him on the shoulder, before leaning over to kiss Andi's cheek, "You aren't the only one. We'll be on the lookout for signs of a Grand Destiny."

Yusula grinned, "Diaper duty as punishment for the next person who sneaks unreasonable quantities of marshmellows and chocolate into the cave."

Drakath braced himself for a rush of children as he led the way into the cave, which was really more of a system of caverns. "I don't mind toasting them. There's a distinct lack of knights trying to pick a fight these days."

Andromache didn't look convinced, heading for the side cave that acted as a nursery, where Septima, a Seventh Daughter, and Jackson, who possessed an uncanny tendency to encounter giant animals every time he stepped out of the cave, and had the muscles and scars to prove it, were supervising. "That's because you aren't the one who has to deal with the resulting sugar hype."

The new addition to the Hoard, named Jack until he found another name he liked better, was nearing his second adoption anniversary when an emissary, practically shimmering with fireproofing charms, cautiously approached the cave entrance.

Andromache popped out of the cave before he could shout a greeting. "It's naptime; if you wake the babies, I will disembowel you and have Drakath roast your entrails before you can put them back in."

Heroes who interrupted naptime were a large part of the reason Drakath had a reputation for roasting intruders, mostly because it was more merciful that whatever Andi, Yusula, Rani, Septima and Jackson would do to them. The emissary was apparently one of the sensible ones, because he immediately switched from a Herald's shout to an appropriate Indoor Voice. "Of course, my Lady. I apologize for interrupting your day, but there was a prophecy made."

That wasn't an uncommon occurrence, though it usually left the Parenting Squad fretting until the subjects of said Prophecy returned safely. Andi sighed, "Can you give me any specifics? We'll start narrowing down the ones it could apply to."

The emissary nodded, clearing his throat. "As prophecies go, it was unusually specific.

'The first of the Hoard, Battle of Men,

The Prince and the Seventh, Giant-Slayer's Son,

The One Who Was Rescued, but chose to remain,

United as parents, form the Sorcerer's Bane.

Together they travel, far must they roam,

The dragon tends the hoard, until they come home.'"

He looked slightly apologetic, "The Battalion was nearby dealing with an Ogre, and figured it out in less than a minute."

The Battalion was the collective name for those of Drakath's hoard of no-longer-children, who were old enough to go on adventures and quests, and actually wanted to do so. It was a misnomer, since the current number comprised less than fifty, only a sixth of even the smallest battalion, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in raw power and skill. They'd named themselves 'The Hoard', at first, but quickly ran into misunderstandings over synonyms.

A horde, after all, implied a disorganised and often savage rabble, not a trained and semi-professional unit, and explaining the difference between the two words quickly became exasperating.

Rani slid an arm around Andi's waist, "So, it's our turn to go fight a Sorcerer? Better to get it over with before Fate decides to force the issue."

She had a point; ignoring a prophecy didn't make it go away, and if the rumour mill was operating at it's usual efficency, the Sorcerer in question had probably also heard it by now. Septima immediately turned around, heading back into the caverns, "I'll go see if the armoury has any magic-nullifying weapons."

The Battalion brought back interesting souvenirs from their adventures, kept in a side-cave with the entrance blocked by a boulder that only Jackson could move. Small children and sharp, occasionally magical, weapons did not mix well.

Yusula followed Septima's example, "I'll start organising supplies."

Rani and Andromache exchanged glances; "Well, that leaves us to tell Drakath."

Andi shrugged, "We've been threatening an Intervention over his hoarding problem for years now. This is as good an opportunity as we're likely to get."

For all that Drakath hoarded children, he'd never been left alone to look after them.

Andromache, Jackson and Rani had been adolescents when they first encountered him, and if pre-teen Yusula had lacked their knowledge of basic life skills, having always had servants for that sort of thing, he picked them up quickly enough. Septima had been the baby of her family, some months from her tenth birthday when she joined their ranks, but Seventh Children tended to learn self-sufficency young, one way or another. By the time Drakath's hoard started expanding, they'd put themselves in charge of looking after the younger ones, allowing Drakath a role more akin to a doting grandparent than a direct caretaker.

Now the caretakers of his hoarded children had blithely informed him that they were going on a Prophecised Quest, and he was in charge until they got back.

Dragons, as a rule, did not panic, but Drakath wondered if this was what Anxiety felt like. "You're leaving me alone?"

Septima examined a pair of duelling knives, then exchanged them for a curved sword. "Well, it's not like you're a stranger to them."

Andromache examined a staff with a blade too long to be called a spear at the end. "Besides, if you can manage them on your own, we won't have any arguments left against you adding more."

That, more than anything, made Drakath suspect that they were setting him up for failure, but the Five (Mom-)Friends, as Jackson had declared them, had shouldered their packs and were out of the cavern before he could form a coherent rebuttal.

At least the children were currently napping or playing quietly, and Septima and Jackson had done a supply run only yesterday. Along with the corpse of the giant goose that had chased Jackson home, cooked and preserved in the cold cave, the food situation wasn't dire.

Drakath had hoarded children for years. He could do this. Really.

He hoped that his eldest children returned quickly.

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