The Marked King

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

At least, that is what grandfather had told me. He was ancient as hell. He fancied sitting at his small round table, facing toward the window, as he told us stories. Which the family found a bit odd, as he wore a cloth that covered his eyes. We all wondered when he was finally going to keel over at that table of his, pipe still lit and stuck between his chapped lips.

I held the glowfly lantern above my head, casting strange blue shadows along the rock walls. The air felt old, dust hung around the rock of the cave and my steps were the only sound. It felt illegal to be here, my footprints the only indicator of a new visitor since the stone ages.

My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch one of the walls, the cobwebs crumbled away, revealing dull paintings from a forgotten time. My footsteps paused. I turned toward the rock, held the lantern close and squinted at the faded colors.

My breathing hitched at the symbol. The inside of my left wrist began to itch, the matching tattoo felt like a brand on my skin. Shuddering, I turned away and pinched my eyes closed. I must be getting close then.

The air around me seemed to warm, it sent goosebumps down my spine and the silence seemed thicken. It took me a moment to realize the glowflies had quieted. Darkness welcomed my eyes as they flew open. Panicked, I shook the lantern. The bugs didn’t even flutter.

Glass shattered as it hit the floor. My fingers fumbled and a moment later, a match flared to life. The air around me seemed unnaturally warm, the soft wind off putting in the current surroundings.

The breeze hit my back, stronger and warmer than the first few times. My heart jumped into my throat and I whipped around. The match singed my fingers in a small eruption and I shielded my eyes against the sudden flash.

Blinking away the spot beneath my eyelids, I beheld the ball of flame floating a few feet in front of me. My finger’s throbbed, but they were forgotten as I beheld the sight beyond the light.

A large red eye, at least as big as my head, narrowed and stared at me.

No fire.

I would’ve cursed at myself for forgetting grandfather’s advice. If I could have remembered to breathe. The firelight danced around to his side and revealed more of his large face. Scales glittering like thousands of black diamonds. The dragon looked at the fire and took a deep, relieved breath.

“Who should I thank for this gift?” He shifted his large red eyes back to me. His voice rumbled the cave, stealing the air and leaving me speechless. He came in close and took in everything about me.

“I would not think she would give me a taste of this again…” He eyed the fire skeptically, “If only to taunt me with what she stole.” The voice turned gravelly and rigid.

“Who?” My voice came back. Weak and pathetic.

“What is it to you slave?” his gaze briefly flicked toward the tattoo on my wrist, “She sent you here to die.”

I had never been so aware of those teeth, which were less than ten feet away. The little flame danced around his head like he was playing with it, as if testing to see if his magic still worked. His dark scales glittered wherever the light floated, which only illuminated small pieces of him at a time.

“Beautiful…”

He huffed a laugh, his gaze now wholly on me. The small flame erupted brighter, becoming large before it separated into smaller lights. They floated along the whole cave, revealing everything that my human eyes couldn’t have seen before.

The dragon was large, he could’ve easily carried a house in his claws. His armored scales gleamed. Wings ruffled, stirring up dust, and then stretched out as much as the space would allow.

Vain creatures.

His steps rumbled as he paced around me, his long neck snaking past and blocking the way back to the surface. Metal clanked with his steps, a large chain dragging on the cave floor.

“I wasn’t sent here…”

This made him pause.

“I came to bargain.”

His lip curled back into a smirk, “What could you possibly offer me?”

It took all my concentration to keep my voice from quivering, “We are both prisoners. I will free you and you will help free the people.”

He snorted, “I don’t seem to gain much from this…” All the flames, except for one, winked out. It remained small and the darkness swallowed its light.

Peering through the black, it became unnaturally quiet. A claw drug on the ground behind me. I jumped, my heart shot to my throat.

“I have a better idea…” his voice cut the silence, “help me retrieve what she stole and I will free all human slaves from her control.”

“I need to know who she is…” my voice quivered.

“The White One, Empress of Storms, Queen of Light, Mistress, call her what you will…” I felt the sneer in his tone, “My sister.”

My stomach dropped. The Queen of the Dragons. “What did she steal from you…?”

“Do we have a deal?” His teeth came into the light. The question hung in the air between us.

I bit my lip. “I free you. Help you retrieve something and in return, you’ll help the people?”

His lips pulled back into a smile, “Agreed.”

* * * * *

“There is no keyhole…” I half mumbled, inspecting the chain clasped around his leg.

He snorted, “How perceptive of you.”

I refused to glare at him, “How did it get on in the first place?”

He scratched at his chest, looking like he was deciding whether or not to tell me the truth. “Magic. Dragon magic.”

Shoot. “Okay… dragon magic is strong, but not absolute, right?” He remained silent, “There is always a way out, that's the rule, even with the most complicated spells. So… if you remember the enchantment’s words, then that should give us a clue on how to break it.”

“How do you come by this knowledge?”

“My grandfather… he told us stories when we were growing up.” We remained silent for a few moments. I touched the metal, cold bit into my hand, but it soothed my singed fingers. I had almost forgotten that they were throbbing.

The dragon cleared his throat, stared into the flame intently and began to chant:

"Blood spilt upon the floor

White, Black, victory roar

Only one is chosen

The trust had been cloven

Prisoner, one was made

Freedom comes from a blade

Vacant, it cannot stay

Chain filled again one day

Own free will, from a Slave

Blood falls, silent like grave

Empty for a short time

End of year, by design"

His words quieted and the answer to break the spell was crystal clear. “My sister isn’t one for enchantments… it's one of the few things that lacked her dramatic flair.”

The knife that appeared in my hand was pathetic looking. The sting of the blade was a faint echo against my palm. “By my own free will…” my voice soft as I held my hand over the metal. Blood dripped silently.

The metal unclasped soundlessly, but something seemed to echo against the rock. One year... One year…

The sudden intake of breath took me off guard. The flame in the cave grew brighter, happier as it danced along the walls. The dragon blew out a long, relieved breath. “It's been so long…”

There was a light in his eyes, but not from the flame he kept alive with his magic. He closed his eyes and concentrated. His whole body darkened, as if he was silhouetted by the sun, and began to morph. I blinked, a man stood where the dragon once was.

The man stumbled to the ground, breathing hard and shaking. I watched as he looked at his hands, felt at his chest and touched his wild black hair. His body was sculpted, as if he was created by an artist. His skin was pale from the years he spent within the rock and away from the sun. I refrained from looking at his waist, or at anything lower than it. The cloak thumped the ground between us, goosebumps seized my body at the sudden chill.

He rubbed gently at his arms before reaching for the cloak. “I forgot how cold your skin could be.” He wrapped the fabric around his body and the flame floated closer to give him warmth. My attention went to his ankle. It was marked in black swirls, curves and dips. The enchantment that held him, now marked his skin in dragon speech. His eyes narrowed at me, brown with a tinge of red lay within.

He shook his head, “Terrible eyesight as well.”

I crossed my arms, mostly to block out the chill, “Stop insulting me.”

“Ah, a female slave with some bite.” He flashed a grin which made my knees wobble a little, his canines were sharper than a human’s would normally be.

I silently scowled before turning back toward the surface. His footsteps echoed against the walls, in sync with my own. The flame stayed ahead, lighting the path. I noticed his gaze drifted toward it constantly, as if it gave him comfort.

“How long were you in the dark? Couldn’t you have lit up the cave with your magic?” I voiced aloud, then bit my tongue.

He seemed to grimace. The flame drifted closer and floated a few inches from his outstretched palm. I felt its warmth, but it didn’t seem to harm him. “I can still manipulate flame, but I’m afraid that I cannot create my own anymore.” The flame danced between his fingers, “At least three hundred years. I’m not sure though, all sense of time has eluded me down here.”

I swallowed hard, at least three hundred years.

“You cannot create flame anymore?”

“My ability was stolen from me by my sister. I will not dive into that piece of my history, so keep the question to yourself, slave.”

A few moments passed in complete silence. Even the flame seemed to diminish its sound.

“Is that what I am helping you retrieve?”

His steps quieted at the entrance of the cave. The sun blinded both of us for a moment. The summer breeze swept past us and warmed our bones. Leaves fluttered against it, filling the air with a wonderful sound. I relished the sudden heat and rubbed the cold from my hands. The dragon man did not stir.

“No.” His hand dropped from shielding his eyes. He stared off toward the horizon. To the Fang mountains in the far distance. His old home.

“Then what are we taking back from your sister?”

His jaw set and his eyes went cold.

“My throne.”