The Dragon Master's Son 3

Chapter 3

John stood in the stone bowels of the castle. The room was large with an extremely high ceiling. Somewhere, way up in the murky rafters, he could make out birds flying. The lack of even a single window made it necessary for a fire, even now in the middle of summer, for light. The stone walls leached heat from the room. Even with the fire, which filled the enormous hearth, John found his teeth were chattering.

He had been deposited in the room by the officer and left on his own. After five long minutes, waiting for someone to return, John had given up and begun exploring the room. It hadn't taken long. This was obviously an auxiliary room, full when required and cleared when not in use. And, at the present time, it wasn't being used at all. Two large chairs flanked the fire, three benches stood propped up against the wall and two doors, one to the left and one to the right, sat heavily recessed in the thick, stone walls.

It was now that the solid oak door to the left swung purposefully open and a man, John had only ever seen once before in his life, stepped onto the room. His name was Crispan and he was The Keeper of the King's Dragons. John had met him on his one and only visit to the King’s castle. Even back then, weighed down by his father's dragon harnesses, he hadn't found it difficult to follow the conversation. Crispan was concerned with the reconditioning of the King’s dragon stabling. It had been decades since the last of the King's dragons had died. Crispan's title was now merely honorary and his true roll was as the King's advisor. Now, as he entered the room, Crispan was followed by a soldier, who closed the door and stood guard.

Crispan took the seat to the right of the fire and looked at John slowly from head to foot. The King's advisor had a sinister, laconic manner. He was not to be rushed. Crispan's gaze fixed on John's eye, which was turning slowly from red to blue.

“What happened to your eye?” he asked out of boredom, rather than any genuine concern.

“Your officer caught me looking at the Princess.”

“Ah,” Crispan sighed mockingly, “the lovely Lujain. And you gazed a little too long? Oh, the innocence of youth.”

Crispan ceased talking and silence filled the room. The faintest impression of beating wings descended from the rafters. John burnt with a desire to know what had happened to his father. To find out where he was and why he had been taken. But Crispan wouldn't answer his questions, that much was obvious: even if Crispan knew precisely where his father was.

“And how is your father?” John looked up sharply. Crispan was studying every line of John’s face intently.

“I haven't seen him since breakfast,” John admitted truthfully. He was glad he hadn't needed to lie. He could feel Crispan analysing his every thought. “When I returned home, he wasn't there. Only your soldiers.”

“The King's soldiers,” Crispan corrected. “Only the King is allowed to have soldiers.” A momentary flash of irritation crossed Crispan's forehead, but it was there long enough for John to notice.

“And your mother?” he enquired, “How is she?”

John steeled himself, against the pain that still filled his heart. “We haven't seen her in over a year.”

“Ah, I see.” John could still feel Crispan searching his thoughts. “Do you know where she is?”

John shook his head. He didn't trust himself to use words. Somehow, John knew, this man was mixed up in the disappearance of both his parents. John needed to gain information from this man and not let Crispan take anything from him.

A thought, or a voice from far away, suddenly thrust through John's brain like a spear. It was a powerful, hungry voice and it made John's brain pound so violently that he folded upon his knees and held his head in his hands.

'Dragon Master!' the voice commanded. 'Where are you, Dragon Master? You are near. I can hear your thoughts. Come to me, Dragon Master!'

As the pain began to lessen, John looked up from where he knelt on the cold, stone floor. Crispan was looking with marginal interest from where he sat by the fire.

“Our young friend seems to be in some pain,” the King's advisor indicated to the guard with a flick of his hand. “Take him somewhere where he can rest. I shall talk again with him when he is once more well.

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