In the dirty slums of Puckworld's slave tent city, cries could be heard as a baby took its first breath. A young woman, her body rail thin from near starvation and her feathers so dirty one could not tell what color she was, collapsed back on her ragged cot, gasping.
The other slaves stayed away, their eyes suspicious. A guard kicked in the door of the shack. The guard was lanky, tough scales stretched over its body and its tail forked.
It hissed. Its tongue also forked, slithered out tasting the air. It strode forward and yanked the girl back by her hair as she tried to shield her newborn son.
Though weak, she yelped and fought with everything she had to protect her son. A garbled language emitted from the guard's mouth, guttural and harsh as he shook her and slapped her into the opposite wall.
"NO!" She tried to stand up and try to get her son back; she had to get her son.
The guard whipped around, his clawed fist smashing into her head. The other slaves cringed as an audible crack of her skull echoed around the small space.
It seemed like forever before her body crumpled to the dirty floor of the shack. And she didn't move.
The guard glared around the room, as if to dare anyone to come forth, to challenge him. He stooped picking up the child as it wailed.
It's mewling sparked fury within the Saurian as it glared down at it. It's very weakness just made his blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to crush the infant in his claws.
But he couldn't, the infant had if possible a greater purpose than being squashed. He turned around, the child in hand as he left the shack and the crumpled body of the mother behind.
…
Inner City of Dowmaskas
Roemaki turned as he heard the doors to his chamber open. Flee walked in, carrying a naked child. Roemaki squared his shoulders, feeling his ligaments pop. So this was object of the prophecy. A whining little whelp of a duck. Roemaki scoffed to himself.
He met Flee halfway, turning his red eyes down on the child. "Why the blood?" He hissed.
"It's bitch mother got in my way. She won't be getting up again," Flee growled, pleasure twisted on his face.
Roemaki considered the Saurian's words. So the mother had put up a fight, he hoped her rebellion wasn't contagious, least to all her infant son.
"So this is the boy," Morjana appeared from somewhere, her Saurian features beautiful and haughty. She gazed down at the baby, her neon purple eyes twitching. "He'll need a substitute mother for a while, if his own is indeed dead."
"I say cast it to Dimensional Limbo, let it die."
Morjana's hand shot out, sending Flee's head sharply to the left. He hissed at her, before remembering his place.
"Fine," he spat, tossing the baby in the air and leaving. "I have done as you asked, my lord."
Morjana quickly caught the baby before he hit the ground, her expression between contempt for Flee and disgust at having to hold the baby.
"You can go," Roemaki commanded. Once Flee disappeared, he turned to survey his mate holding the duck. "You'll be the substitute."
"What? No…absolutely not!"
Roemaki seized her by her black corn-rowed hair, "you will, there will be no excuses."
Morjana glared at him. "Yes my lord."
….
Morjana watched impassively as two of her servants dragged a crate into her spacious suite. "Out!" She ordered shortly. They left immediately.
On her bed sat her two children: Sika her son and Dannika, her daughter. Dannika crawled across her bed, her eyes fixed on the ratty duckling.
"Momma, is he a new pet?"
"Yes." Morjana's voice was clipped. "You are not to touch him. He's trash." She slid the cooing baby into the cage and locked it. She turned to her two children. "Off to bed, both of you."
Dannika paused in front of the cage, "what are you gonna name him?"
Morjana paused, her purple irises narrowing on her daughter before her face softened. Despite herself, she drew closer to the cage, staring down at the baby. "He's a duck…so what about Drake?"
Dannika nodded, holding her stuffed toy closer to herself, "I like it."
Morjana started to pull her away but Dannika wasn't done.
"What about a last name? Everyone has a last name."
"You heard Morjana," Sika snapped, "it's trash. It doesn't deserve a name."
Morjana felt a slight annoyance at her son referring to her by name, but Saurian females were beneath males.
Dannika was unperturbed, "what about Ducaine?"
Sika scoffed, and left, his head shaking.
Dannkia looked to Morjana for approval. "It's the name of one of their cities, isn't it Momma?"
Morjana sighed, "one of their cities, it is no more."
Dannika returned her gaze to the baby in the cage, "Drake Ducaine…."
…..
8 years later
"DRAKE DUCAINE!"
Drake opened his eyes, feeling the blow Sika had given him. Slowly he sat up, feeling his head spin. Above him, Sika was grinning, giving his sword a spin in his hand.
Numbly, Drake looked to his right to see Flossur, an aged Saurian who reluctantly started training him in the art of forging Saurian weapons. That was what Drake had been doing until Sika appeared and insulted Drake's dead mother. Then Drake lost his head and attacked Sika only to have the thirteen-year-old Saurian kick the crap out of him.
"Trash," Sika sneered, kicking Drake in the stomach. "Why do you even get up?"
Drake glared at him, "because some day, you'll be on the ground and I'll be standing above you."
"Is that a fact?"
"DUCAINE, GET UP!" Flossur roared.
"See you around, Trash," Sika walked away.
Drake felt hatred but stood up as Flossur had commanded.
"Get back to work, Slave! NOW."
…
Morjana ignored the sputtering and cat whistles her way as she let herself into the forging cave. Drake was bent over the fire, soot and burning embers smudged and burning in his feathers.
She watched him for a moment, her lips pursed before she emerged from the shadows. In his eight years of life, Drake was skinny and small for his age, but his petite size aside, he was strong for an eight-year-old duckling. You had to be in this line of trade.
He noticed her stealthy movements and tensed before relaxing after realizing it was only her. "My lady," he quickly dropped to the ground in respect.
She took a breath, "as you were."
He stood up and returned to his job over the fire.
"I heard about yours and Sika's little tiff." She picked up a half made weapon, feeling its weightiness before laying it down again.
Drake remained silent for a moment. Then. "Yes, we had a fight."
Her eyes caught his at which he quickly looked away, his brown feathers darkening as she imagined he was blushing.
"I'm sorry."
She surveyed him as she mulled over his weak apology. She knew she should have him punished for attacking a royal, a Lord's son, but she felt compromised. For eight years, Drake had grown up in Morjana's presence. He wasn't a son, he could never be seen as such, he was after all a slave but yet he was in some way, her child…it had been a mistake on her part.
Drake had been four and put into a new cage, set out for other Overlords and their wives to observe him like he was some circus creature. Roemaki had had Flee fasten the little boy to a leash and lead him around the room while the guests intermingled and watched him.
That was when Morjana arrived with her servants and Drake saw her, he slipped and called her Momma in front of the entire gathering. Morjana thought she would die from the embarrassment. The laughter from the Saurians and Roemaki's infuriated face made the duckling cry. To Morjana, her anger was gone as quickly as it had come. Her mothering senses kicked in, something she hated since the duckling was a weak little thing, a nothing to a Saurian. Despite the occupants, she came forward and picked up the shaking duck and left the hall, much to Roemaki's dismay. Her actions cost her a tooth and three weeks of recovery from a beating.
Back to the present, she sighed, "don't apologize…" She sniffed the air, her attention returning to him. "When was the last time you bathed?"
He cringed, "I don't remember."
She rolled her eyes, "Flossur!"
The Saurian appeared from somewhere, ale dripping down his chin. "Aye my lady?"
"I'm taking Drake for a while, you won't mind will you?"
The male Saurian glanced at the boy and then back at Morjana, "no, I suppose not."
"Good, come along Drake."