Havok Publishing

Dragon Pox

By Cynthia Wilfert

Reaching the top of the steep staircase, Bayard slowed his pace. The crescent moon couldn’t brighten the shadows of the final turn leading into the roost, but determination carried him through. He purposefully scuffed his feet and sent a rock clattering over the edge—it was never a good idea to startle a sleeping dragon.

As he pulled himself over the lip of the cliff and caught his first glimpse of her, his breath caught. She was so much bigger up close.

She lay curled up near the entrance of the wide-mouthed cave, the one giant eye Bayard could see tracking his movement as he approached. Her scales were dark in the wan moonlight. He’d seen her fly overhead at midday like a blazing flame, but now she appeared a deep crimson.

He gave an awkward wave. “Hi.”

She blinked, not bothering to raise her head.

His small size and strong resemblance to his older brother should let her know he wasn’t a threat. Bayard stepped closer and reached out, settling a gentle hand on her flank. “Is it okay if I rest here?”

She sighed, her breath like a blast of steam rushing over him, and closed her eye.

He’d take that as a yes. Lowering himself to the ground, he huddled close to her side and studied her. She didn’t seem sick. Her breathing was easy, and there were no signs of the uncomfortable itching that afflicted his brother. Bayard had been restricted from seeing Aldrick since the illness took hold, but he’d overheard the nurses discussing it.

Perhaps the symptoms were different in humans. Or maybe the dragon had already recovered. Whatever the case, she’d probably been lonely. She and Aldrick had been training together every day for months before his sickness. Maybe that was why she didn’t mind Bayard’s company now. Why the gentle rise and fall of her chest seemed calm, soothing…

Sunlight filtering into the roost startled Bayard awake. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The dragon shifted lazily when he jumped to his feet. “Sorry. And thanks for letting me stay. I gotta go, but I’ll see you later. Maybe you can teach me to fly!”

He decided to take her answering snort as friendly encouragement.

Three days later he stood before the mirror in his underclothes and twisted to see the backs of his legs. He growled in frustration—still no sign of the telltale rash.

“What are you doing?” His sister Cherie stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

“Checking.”

“For?”

“Spots.”

“Mama said we weren’t around Al enough to catch it.”

Mama had told Bayard that, too; that was why he’d gone directly to the dragon. “Remember the legends about the old war heroes? The ones who could turn into dragons?”

Cherie frowned. “But that doesn’t happen now. Papa pairs human riders with our dragons.”

“But legends are born in truth. And the stories say they first transformed when they caught an illness from wild dragons…I think it was dragon pox.”

Cherie paled. “Then you can’t catch it!”

Bayard shook his head. But it seemed she was right; he hadn’t caught it. If the dragon hadn’t infected him, he’d have to go with Plan B.

A few days later, when his brother’s caretakers left him alone after lunch, Bayard snuck in. He crawled onto the bed where Aldrick slept propped on pillows, his breathing raspy. Fever-bright cheeks matched the angry red spots running down his neck and underneath his shirt. Bayard touched a large patch on his forearm, hissing quietly at the heat it gave off. It felt rough, almost scaly.

Bayard carefully lay down and shifted close, making sure Aldrick’s breath touched him…

This time, he awoke to his sister’s shrill cry. Bayard sat up as Aldrick startled awake, gasping. He blinked. “Bay, why are you here? You’ll catch the pox!”

Cherie stomped her foot, refusing to cross the threshold. “I don’t want you both to be dragons!”

Aldrick’s eyes went wide. “What?”

Cherie burst into tears and ran off, yelling for Papa.

Bayard grinned. “Now we can do this together.”

“What, exactly?”

“The transformation, of course.”

Aldrick stared at him slack-jawed until understanding dawned. “Dragon pox doesn’t turn you into an actual dragon!”

Bayard’s grin faded. “It must. Why else would they call it dragon pox?”

“Because the rash feels like scales. Someone’s idea of cleverness, I guess.” Aldrick shrugged.  “Point is, I’m just sick. I’m gonna get well and go back to normal.”

“But… the legends!” Bayard sputtered.

Aldrick slumped against the pillows. “Don’t you remember what Papa taught? Legends are always embellished. You have to learn the true history.”

“In this case, those men were real.” Both boys turned to their father as he entered. “But they didn’t transform into dragons, son. They tamed the wild ones and joined them to defend our land from the barbarian invasion.”

Bayard frowned, eying Aldrick’s rash and the dark circles under his eyes. “Are you saying I’ve gone to all this trouble just to make myself sick and miserable?”

Papa huffed a laugh. “I’m afraid so.” He patted Bayard’s back. “Mama wanted to protect you, but the pox is actually easier on the young. I had it as a lad. You can only catch it once; better to get it out of the way.”

Bayard moaned, burying his face in his brother’s blanket.

“Don’t worry, little brother. At least we’ll be sick together.”

Bayard twisted his head and glared.

Papa sat at the foot of the bed. “The two of you can spend some time together—no dragon transformation necessary.”

Bayard drew himself up in surprise. He’d missed his brother since Aldrick had begun training, but he’d never admit how he hated to be left behind. He felt his face redden under Papa’s knowing look.

Bayard sniffed. “Maybe I just wanted to fly.”

“Well, after all the itching and suffering…we can try that together, too.” Aldrick half-coughed, half-chuckled, then added, “But only as passengers!”

[ratings]

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cynthia Wilfert is a graphic designer by day. She enjoys photography, nature and animals, especially her beloved, spoiled dachshund. She named him Pippin, after the hobbit in The Lord of the Rings. She has enjoyed a life-long love of stories that progressed from Nancy Drew to classics like The Chronicles of Narnia and an eclectic mix of newer tales. With a particular fondness for mysteries and fantasy, she’s now sharing some stories of her own.


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