At this she paused and he could see fresh tears filling her blue eyes again.
“When they entered the house they found a woman. She was dead. Your father has never said much about her. I think that what he saw frightened him. Apparently the inside had been ransacked, but it appeared that nothing had been taken. They found you in the house in a hidden space under the hearth.”
Legon interrupted. “They found me in the fire!” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, dear, there wasn’t a fire burning and I don’t think there had been in a long time. I think that your mother put you in a very safe hiding place.”
“My mother,” he thought. His birth mother hadn’t forgotten him or left in a hurry, running away from robbers. She had been murdered and had most likely spent her last few moments alive hiding him, in a place apparently prepared for just that. This also meant that she had at least planned for the possible day that she would have to hide her son from people who wanted to hurt him. The fact that the house had been searched was disturbing as well, because nothing was taken, or at least nothing obvious had been taken. That probably meant that whoever had attacked was there for reasons other than financial gain. Before Legon had time to fully comprehend what he just been told, his adopted mother pushed on, almost as if by saying this she was free of some burden.
“After they found you they took you home. You know the rest. We adopted you and now you are our son, and we love you like you are our own.” She placed her hand on his at this last statement.
Legon felt every emotion coursing through him. On the one hand he was mad that he hadn’t been told this, but on the other he knew his parents were just trying to protect him. He understood the desire to protect the ones you love; when he thought about it, he didn’t know if could have handled this news when he was younger. Still, something didn’t seem right. Where had his birth father been in this whole affair? He had to know about the hiding place and had to know that his son was missing… unless he was killed too, and Edis, Brack, and Arkin hadn’t found the body.
And what had they been looking for in the first place? A thought came to him then that bothered him: if Edis hadn’t been willing to share all the details of what he saw with his wife, then what he had seen must have been pretty bad. Also, the house had been secluded, and so his mother must have been hiding from something. She may have had or at least known something that whoever did this wanted, and it was possible that they had interrogated her before killing her. That made sense; it also explained why Edis had been unwilling to talk to his wife about it. If his birth mother was interrogated, that meant that they had probably tortured her, and Legon could understand why Edis didn’t want to relive the sight in his head. A thought bubbled up.
“Mom, it’s going to take some time for what you just said to… well, sink in, but I still don’t understand why you got so upset about my tattoo. Isn’t it possible that my birth mother did magic and that’s why it’s there?”
She paused. He could tell she was trying to figure out what to say.
“Your tattoo was put there by magic. I’m sure of that now, but the thing that has me so upset is that your tattoo is, well… I’m not sure how to explain this. Arkin knows more about this kind of thing than me. The tattoo is Elven.” She sighed deeply after saying this.
“‘Elven’? What do you mean, ‘Elven’? Does that mean that an Elf put it there? Why would they do that?” he stammered. He didn’t like the thought of magic, but to think that an Elf of all things had put the tattoo there was almost too much. The queen hated the Elves and would stop at nothing to kill any in her territory or anyone connected to them.
“It’s a crest, Legon. An Elven crest, the kind they mark all of their children with. Like I said, I don’t know much about it, but Arkin somehow does. Before I thought that maybe the tattoo was just done in the same style as the Elvin ones, but now…” Her face was blank and pallid; the color in her eyes seemed to leak out, leaving them weak and frail.
As this last statement hit home Legon felt his jaw begin to fall open. All brain function came to a screeching halt. First fear came in, then terror, then denial. Arkin was wrong, or his mother had misunderstood him. His first parents probably knew magic and liked the Elven tradition like she said. He knew that if it was an Elven mark then the people who killed his parents, or at least his mother—“Maybe my dad is still alive,” he thought— worked for the queen and may have even been Iumenta. This placed him in danger. If the tattoo was from an Elf then he could be seen as a spy and killed, or if the mark was from a human he could be seen as an Elven sympathizer and killed—two possibilities with only one outcome.
For the first time, Legon began to appreciate the sacrifice his adopted parents had made on his behalf. They had placed themselves in danger by harboring a possible enemy to the state. At the same, time he was angry with them, not because they had done anything wrong, but because they were there and he needed someone to be upset with. His mother was looking intently at him. Her face was dry, and it hit him that he had been quiet for a few minutes.
“Sorry mom… I blanked out,” he began.
“It should be me who is sorry. We should have told you sooner than this, and it’s a horrible thing to drop on someone.”
For some reason this made Legon even angrier. They knew they should have told him but they hadn’t. Was it because they didn’t care about him? He had been of use, taking care of Sasha so they didn’t have to, and working in that shop… was he nothing more than labor? No, that wasn’t right. His parents loved him and they just wanted him to be happy. What was wrong with that?
He stood suddenly. “I need to get outside and get some air. There’s so much going through my mind. I’m sorry Mom. Thank you for the tea.”
She nodded at him and seemed relieved. “Take your time dear.”
He walked out the back door and toward the forest. A walk in the woods would be good for him. It was overcast today, which matched his new mood. The gray sky made all of the bright colors of the field become more vibrant, and made the ground soft under his feet. When he got in the woods the air was thick and misty; there wasn’t a sound. The heavy air and the mist reminded him of something… a dream maybe. It felt as though his feet were carrying him of their own accord; he had no idea where he was going. He saw a deer go bounding by and snap a branch. That too seemed to remind him of something.
His mind flooded with thought; he knew that this news of his tattoo would change his life in ways he could not yet comprehend. He couldn’t go to a big city. If he did his tattoo would be seen for sure. He might have to go south to the resistance, but he didn’t like that idea. He would be too far away to help the family with their taxes. But that wasn’t his problem - it was his family’s. He had to protect himself or he wouldn’t be able to do anything for them. It felt like his emotions had been taken over, controlled by something other than himself.
“It’s not my fault if something happens. There’s no point in both Sasha and I getting hurt, or worse,” he thought. He could just leave them to their own devices. His mind and emotions jumped wildly from fear of the unknown to anger. He thought maybe they had the hardship coming anyway. It would have come sooner if not for him. They were lucky he had been around.
He stopped and looked around, trying to see if he recognized his surroundings. He thought he was on top of a hill. He couldn’t see any landmarks through the mist, but the ground in front of him looked disturbed, like there had been a struggle there not more than a few days ago. There was something else that was in a bush, something small, brown and square. Puzzled, he went to the bush and bent over. It was a book. He picked it up and thumbed through the pages. It was handwritten and looked to be a diary. He knew he shouldn’t look at it, but he couldn’t return it to the person if he didn’t know whose it was. He stopped at an entry that was dated three weeks ago and began to read.
Today was a bad day. I had another one. It was horrible. I threw up all over the place, and I hit the bac
k of my head on my brother’s mouth.
It was Sasha’s! He knew he should stop reading, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to. He remembered that episode, Sasha writhing on the ground while he’d tried to hold her. He felt his lips where the back of her head had hit. He didn’t know he was bleeding at first; his mother was the one to see. By the end of the episode his face and chest were covered with his own blood and he’d cut his face on the ground. He read on:
I can’t remember what happened. I almost never do, but he was covered in blood when I came to. Oh I hate this! I’m a monster! He’s so big and I still hurt him. I feel so bad. If it wasn’t for my brother I don’t know what I would do. The people in town are right, I’m cursed, I’m a demon, and when Legon leaves the queen will take me. I’m so scared. A lady in town told me that they will make me a whore and give me to the queen’s men for their pleasure. Maybe I deserve it for being a freak. I mean look at me, I can’t make a living, I’m a burden on my family… at least when I’m gone my family can have their lives back again and…
He stopped reading. The string holding his emotions broke. Now his problems seemed not to matter. He thought back on what just crossed his mind, how selfish he’d been, how… he felt an odd flash of heat and without warning his stomach turned. He tossed the book aside and began to throw up on the grass. He felt more heat, saw blue spots, and then nothing.
Legon’s eyes opened and he felt his head pounding. He raised himself up on his hands and saw a pool of semi-dry vomit in front of him. He must have been out for a few hours.
He wondered what time it was. He got up and walked to the book and picked it up, but something was off… what was it? He took an inventory and it hit him - he didn’t have a torch, candle, or anything else to make light. The sky was still covered in clouds, so he shouldn’t be able to see the ground at his feet, but he could.
Legon swept his gaze out to where the town was. He gasped. It was there right in front of him. Just a hazy outline, but it was there. He began to feel uneasy. Maybe there was something wrong with him. He began back toward his house through the woods that were dark to all but him.
He got home in near record time. When he walked in his family was sitting at the table talking to one another. They started when he came in and his mother stood up a bit.
He walked into the now silent room and handed the book to Sasha.
“I was on top of the hill and this was in a bush. When I saw it was hand written I closed it… it’s probably a diary or something. Maybe you know whose it is?”
She took it and opened the cover. Her eyes widened a bit and then relaxed. She got up and hugged him. “Thank you. I was worried sick looking for this thing. Thank you, Legon!” She kissed his cheek and dashed up to her room.
He thought about what he was thinking earlier and a voice came unbidden into his head: You don’t deserve that, you bastard; you don’t deserve her in your life at all.
He began to walk to the stairs when Edis’s voice called him back. “Come and sit down son.” Legon turned and sat.
“Your mother told me about today, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not being honest with you and… if you want to talk about it, we’re here.”
There you go giving aid and concern to someone you should have left in the broken house, someone who doesn’t deserve it.
“I know you are, and I know you just wanted me to be happy and have a normal life. I’m fine, but I have a headache and I need to go to bed.”
He stood and walked up the stairs straight to his room. He could see that Sasha’s door was closed and he was thankful. He didn’t care to talk to her right now; he was still feeling guilty about his desire to leave the family to their own devices and save his own neck.
He peeled off his clothes as he entered his room and flopped onto his bed. He felt so tired and his head was pounding. He laid his head on his pillow and felt himself begin to drift off to sleep. He hadn’t even take the time to close his bedroom door.
He wanted to sleep but he was cold and his bed felt hard. He rolled over and opened his eyes. To his surprise he realized he was on the ground, on the ground outside. He stood up and looked around. The ground that he was on was just dirt and rocks. He was in mist and couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. This felt familiar but somehow unfamiliar at the same time. He must be dreaming; this place had that feel about it. He began to walk and realized that he had a dream like this not too long ago. “Odd. How come I couldn’t remember it before?” he thought.
The last time he was in a field when… “there was a dragon” he thought. Legon went rigid. This may have been a dream, but he still didn’t want to deal with a dragon.
He heard the sound of moving rocks, which didn’t help his feeling of foreboding. He began to pick up his pace a bit, looking for a place to hide until the mist cleared. He felt his lungs burn and he moved faster. Before he knew it he was in the field by the sea from the last dream.
But in this dream the air was thin. He knew that he must be up high, perhaps on a mountain top, and that this mist was probably a cloud. So was he by the sea or wasn’t he? It seemed like he was in both places, high on a mountain and by the sea. Suddenly from behind him there came a resounding “thud.” He moved faster, feeling his legs begin to burn. “Thud.” This time it was above his head. ”Thud.” Right in front of him. The sound of claws sinking into earth and breaking rock filled the air. He skidded to a halt as he saw a huge shadow rise in the mist ahead of him.
The mist parted and he tried to scream, but his voice wouldn’t respond. In front of him was a hulking black dragon with scales the color of coal, seeming to absorb the light. Its giant claws looked to be made of solid gold. Long flat plates crossed its chest at the bottom of its long, snake-like neck. At the top of the neck and more than forty feet off the ground was its head. It was triangular with two golden horns that swept back, and when the dragon breathed out, orange circlets appeared in the nostrils. Two long teeth that looked like they were made of pearl jutted from the top of the mouth.
A row of gold spikes ran down its back and tail. The thing that scared Legon the most were the eyes. They were as large as serving platters and were blood red. Everything on the dragon seemed to leech the light from the world, but not the eyes. They glowed with a cruel intensity, and they were looking at him.
Not only could he not scream, but he felt like his feet were planted in the rocky ground. It was stupid not to run, but he couldn’t. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As this realization came, his fear subsided and was replaced by remorse. He was sorry that he had wanted to leave his family, sorry he couldn’t be there for Sasha and sorry he hadn’t been a better brother and son.
The ground shook as a growl came from the black dragon and a deep growling voice filled his head. “You are mine!” Then the dragon opened it huge jaws. Legon didn’t even have time to register the gaping mouth flying toward him.
Pain erupted in his head as once again he snapped up, hitting the ceiling by his bed, but this time the pain was welcome. Welcome because only the living felt pain, not people who had just been eaten by a dragon. He still hadn’t opened his eyes he didn’t want to, just on the chance that it hadn’t been a dream. He felt cold clammy hands on his neck and face.
“You’re ok, Legon. It was just a dream, you’re ok.” The voice was Sasha’s.
He opened his eyes to see her in her nightgown, looking terrified. He must have been talking in his sleep or making some other noise. His heart was racing and he was covered in icy cold sweat. He started to shiver uncontrollably. Sasha sat behind him and wrapped her arm tight around him, the same way he would do to her when she was having an episode. Her hands began to warm as her fear subsided. The warmth was most welcome. He didn’t feel worthy of the love and comfort, but he took it anyway. Warmth began to make its way through him as his ragged breath slowed and heart calmed.
His voice was slower to respond and he began to stamm
er, “I’m… I’m his… he’s going to get me… I, I . . .”
“It’s ok, it’s ok, it was just a dream, you’re fine. No one is going to get you.” Her voice was calm and reassuring as she stroked his hair. He leaned back against her and forced his body to relax.
“I was on a mountain and…”
“Not tonight. You can tell me in the morning. Now relax.”
After a bit his heart resumed its normal rhythm and he felt himself start to drift. He was so tired. He felt Sasha run her fingers through his hair one last time and he fell asleep.
* * * * *
Sasha did not fall asleep. She sat gently stroking his hair, wide awake and her mind so full it almost hurt. She was scared. Legon had been having some horrible dream and she knew it wasn’t the first. She heard him talking in his sleep last night or the night before— she couldn’t remember. Tonight when she heard him she had gotten up to go to his room. She knew that it was not uncommon for people to talk in their sleep, but it was what he was saying and doing that sent fear coursing through her.
When she entered the room he was whimpering almost like a little child who was hurt, but soon he was thrashing in his bed, his arms flying around and his legs pumping like he was running. He was covered in sweat and the look on his face was one of panic. As if this wasn’t enough, he had all of a sudden stopped moving and just lay trembling in bed. Up to this point she’d planned on waking him up so he could relax and go to sleep, but it seemed to be over. She began to turn when Legon sat up in bed and looked right at her.
“You are mine.”
He then lay back down.
The hoarse voice was not his, and she thought that it wasn’t aimed at her, but rather at him. As soon as his head hit the pillow he jolted back up fully awake and terrified.
She wanted to know more but he needed to sleep. She could find out more later. Something inside her whispered that this had to do with his tattoo, but she didn’t know how.
Her parents had explained to Sasha how Legon had actually been found early in the evening while Legon was still out walking. She was horrified to hear what had taken place, and her fears only seemed to get worse when he walked in, covered in dirt with vomit on his chin. No one had said anything, but they all were worried. He had also found her diary, which she assumed he had found at their picnic site. She had a hunch that he read part of it, but she wasn’t sure how much or what. She didn’t mind if he saw the entries on her normal days, but on the days she had an episode …. She didn’t plan on asking him about it because she believed that he had read it only to figure out whose it was.