Two Patryns crouched in the bushes, straining all their senses for information about what was going on in the cave. They could hear the dragon's hostage, a little girl, talking rapidly, though neither eavesdropper could make out her words. But the words didn't matter. The girl did. She was their mission, their goal, and their prize.
The only thing between them and her was a large, sharp-clawed, sharp-fanged dragon with magical powers.
Haplo and Marit had spent the last few minutes discussing (if only in very, very quiet voices) their strategy. She had more experience with him at rescuing victims from dragons and no qualms about reminding him of this.
"We need to wait," she said, voice low, eyes never leaving the mouth of the dragon's cave. "He's tired. We gave him a run for his money earlier today. When he sleeps, we can sneak in."
Haplo nodded. Attacking a dragon head-on was suicide. He wished that they knew more of what was going on in the cave, of its layout and of how the captive was bound.
Jaws tight, faces grim, the Patryns waited. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. True to Marit's prediction, the dragon was still tired from that morning. It walked out of the cave, lifted its head to the sun, extended its wings. For a few moments it stood there, reptilian face blissful (evidently, it got along quite well with its hostage), before tucking its head under its wing. The creature's breathing slowed and deepened. It wouldn't wake up soon- probably. Hopefully.
Good, Marit thought. She signaled her husband. Moving silently, the two Patryns stalked up to the dragon.
Attacking a wyrm was foolish, and so they would not. If they tried to kill a dragon, it would wake up before dying and kill them, too. But they had a task, a mission, a goal- a task that was behind the dragon. And so, scarcely daring to breathe, they crept around the beast's vast bulk and into the cave.
A child was chained to the wall, the little girl whom they had heard earlier. She beamed at her rescuers, thrilled that they'd made it past the sleeping dragon. Then her expression changed to alarm.
That was all the warning Haplo and Marit had. They whirled around, grabbed at their swords, but they were too late. The dragon, which evidently had not been sleeping, pinned them down with its claws.
I win again, Alfred announced. He released the two Patryns and scooted back a step, waited politely for them to right themselves. Of course, I have no doubt that if your tattoos had warned you, you wouldn't have been captured.
"He's right," the girl agreed. She slipped through her manacles as though they were made of air. Her eyes, blue-green as Pryan's jungles, shimmered with amusement. "Though it was still foolish of you not to ascertain that he was really sleeping."
Marit nodded. "If you'd been a Labyrinth dragon, we would have put a sleep spell on you," she informed her friend.
No, my dear, Alfred corrected, raising his snout in faux haughtiness, you would have approached me, thinking me unconscious. Then I would have captured you and added you to my foul 'collection.' A deep shudder ran through the green dragon's frame. His tail twitched.
"Of course," the girl pointed out, "then they would have had the benefit of their runes. The magic would have told them that the dragon wasn't sleeping."
Haplo nodded. It was rather difficult to practice fighting dragons when their 'enemy' would never hurt them. They'd tried convincing Alfred that no, it really was all right to train rough, but the Sartan refused to listen. He had a tendency to exhibit pigheadedness at the most importune moments.
"So the exercises are pointless?" Marit asked dryly. "I don't think so."
"I never said they were pointless," the girl retorted. "Just that this should never be confused for the real thing."
The true Patryns stared at the shape-shifter as though she were mad. "Of course it's not the real thing," Haplo pointed out. "I don't think that anyone could mistake Coren here for a Labyrinth dragon."
But fake or not, these exercises are helping them. A Labyrinth dragon would not have known they were there, Alfred chimed in. I couldn't see, smell, or hear them at all. That's quite the improvement from our first exercise. Now, shall we try this again? Perhaps, he grinned in a way that, considering his large fangs, should have been terrifying but wasn't, my friends will even use a sleep spell this time. Very gently, he butted his head against Haplo's back.
"You'll have to find another captive if you do choose to continue, I'm afraid," the drake told them. "I have other things to do."
That's too bad, Alfred sighed. You were a much better conversationalist than my last 'hostage.'
The drake beamed at him. "Why, thank you, Master Montbank."
"More proof that this isn't real," Haplo muttered, lips quirking into a smile. "Labyrinth dragons don't talk with their victims for hours on end about- say, what were you talking about? Marit and I were too far away to hear."
That would explain why I couldn't hear you. As for your question, we were discussing the metaphysical implications of elven necromancy. I'll spare you the details.
Haplo rolled his eyes. "There aren't a lot of Labyrinth dragons who would discuss elven necromancy with their 'guests.'"
The drake was already gone, vanished into the ether. Alfred, though, remained. He shot Haplo the draconic equivalent of a raised eyebrow and teased, I hope you don't want my next 'hostage' to scream instead. That would hurt both her throat and my ears. His crests twitched for emphasis.
"That's not the point," Marit grumbled. Her words were gruff, but her voice was filled with affection. "The point is, should we continue? We technically don't need a hostage, just a dragon to fight against." She patted Alfred's snout. "Which we have."
Haplo rolled his eyes again. "You know he's useless for training with. Don't try to deny it," he added, turning towards the shape-changer, "because you know you are. You never remember that you're supposed to be trying to hurt us."
The dragon sighed but was forced to concede his friend's point.
"I think we should stop, save our energy for the Run tomorrow," Haplo continued.
Alfred's head snapped up. Oh? Are we still doing that?
"Of course," Marit replied, frowning at him. "Why wouldn't we?"
The dragon's golden gaze became very intense. Then he huffed a sigh and moaned, Oh dear.
"What's 'oh, dear'?" Haplo demanded. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Alfred had been known to exaggerate- often as a simple response to culture shock, if nothing else- but he'd adjusted enough to the Patryn way of life that those moments were rare now. Besides, the run had nothing to do with Patryn customs that he hadn't already experienced.
Alfred glanced away, not wanting to meet his friend's eyes. Nothing. I just don't think that we should go into the Labyrinth tomorrow, that's all.
"What brought that on?" Marit asked. It wasn't like Alfred to try and stop a Run. Self-professed coward or not, he had no intention of letting any Patryn remain in the Labyrinth any longer than necessary. He'd never suggested that they shouldn't enter the Labyrinth or even delay their missions, not once.
…nothing….
"If it's nothing," Marit informed him, "then we're going."
The dragon began to look alarmed. I don't think that's a very good idea, my dear.
"Then tell us what's wrong," she ordered.
Alfred considered, tilting his head to the side. I'd rather not. You see, I shouldn't know this, and I don't want to spoil it by saying. But I really don't think that either of you should go into the Labyrinth for a while.
"If you're not going to tell us," Marit hissed, "then why do you expect us to listen?" Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
For once, Alfred told her, this isn't my fault. If you're desperate to blame someone, blame Haplo.
Marit glanced at her husband, who was just as confused as she was. Haplo shrugged- he didn't know what was going on either. "I can't think of any reason not to go to the Labyrinth."
"Then it's settled," Marit decided. "We leave tomorrow at dawn."
The dragon shook his head. No, I don't think that would be at all wise.
"If it makes you feel better," Haplo promised, "we can make it a short Run."
Alfred considered. Then, again shaking his head, he reiterated, No, I really don't think this is a good idea. And no, Haplo, I won't tell you and spoil the surprise. I'm probably not supposed to know this in the first place.
It was times like this when Marit wondered if he frustrated them on purpose.
"Let's go," Haplo muttered. He walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Alfred blocked them. Are you going to the Labyrinth tomorrow?
"Of course."
The dragon positioned himself so that his large body blocked the entirety of the exit.
"Now what are you doing?" Haplo demanded.
I won't let you leave until you both promise that you won't go to the Labyrinth until it's over.
"Until what's over?"
You'll know when it's over, was the dragon's frustratingly vague response.
"And what exactly is 'it'?"
I can't tell you, because I'm not the one who should tell you.
"I give up," Haplo grumbled. He began to trace the runes of transportation.
Unfortunately, he had underestimated his friend's determination. The Sartan-turned-dragon hummed a single note. Haplo's spell unraveled.
Both Patryns gawked. Alfred never, never, NEVER used his power like that. They knew intellectually that he was many times more powerful than they were (they couldn't turn themselves into dragons without losing consciousness for hours on end), but he'd never before taken advantage of that. And now here he was, unraveling his best friend's spell.
"Is this your way of hinting that we should keep training?" Haplo demanded. He couldn't conceive of any other reason for his friend's bizarre behavior.
No. It's my way of hinting that you two shouldn't go into the Labyrinth until- until it's over.
"And yet you refuse to tell us what this 'it' is. Alfred, don't you realize that there's a bit of a contradiction in your thought process?"
I'm well aware of that, Haplo, he sighed, but I'm between a rock and a hard place. I shouldn't tell you because it's the kind of thing you should find out on your own, but you won't stay out of the Labyrinth unless I tell you, which I will not, or force you to stay behind. So I rather have to force you. He didn't sound overly happy about that, but was no less determined.
"So you'd rather leave helpless children in the Labyrinth than tell us what's going on?" Marit demanded.
Of course not. I can go by myself.
"You're a Sartan. They'll murder you."
…I heard that Erri is thinking about becoming a Rescuer.
Marit opened her mouth to protest again, but Haplo stopped her. He had a plan to make the stubborn fool give in. Smiling wickedly, he asked, "Why didn't you just say so? Though in my opinion, you two should find some other destination for a romantic getaway." He knew full well that the two weren't lovers, but Alfred would inevitably grow flustered at teasing that suggested he had a lady friend. A flustered Alfred would be easier to deal with, meaning that he would cave and tell them what was going on.
But once again, the other man proved that he had no intention of acting according to character. The dragon huffed. That's not going to work this time, Haplo.
The Patryn began to wonder if he was dreaming. The Sartan always reacted badly to that kind of implication. Always. He almost wondered if this was really Alfred.
"We're going to the Labyrinth tomorrow," Marit growled. "All three of us. Or, if you'd rather go with Erri, we can find a drake." She stalked up to the opening of the cave, searching for a part that wasn't blocked by her friend's body.
Alfred groaned silently. Of course the Patryns weren't going to see sense. Of course he'd have to do this the hard way. But, as the alternative was letting Haplo and especially Marit go into the Labyrinth now, he really ought to stop them. So, with that in mind, he gently pushed Marit to the ground, pinned her down with his claws. Sorry.
The Patryn woman stared at him with an open mouth. He flinched guiltily but continued, I'll let you up when you and Haplo promise to stay out of the Labyrinth until it's over.
They tried to reason with him, even threatened him, but there's not a whole lot one can do when one is pinned down by a several-thousand-pound dragon. Eventually Haplo and Marit gave in, promised that they wouldn't enter the Labyrinth until 'it' was over.
Whatever 'it' might be.
"You're certain you'll be fine?" Alfred fretted.
"Positive," Haplo growled. This was the fifth time he'd said so, and he was beginning to get impatient.
"All right then." The Sartan looked somewhat doubtful, but at least he was willing to listen. "And you will take care while I'm gone, right? You won't overexert yourselves or-"
"We'll be fine, Mother," Marit informed him.
"I think they want us to leave," observed Erri, Alfred's partner for this particular Run. "They seem to be getting fed up with you."
"All right, then, my dear," the Sartan said. But he still looked worried.
Erri rolled her eyes. "Didn't you recruit a bunch of drakes to watch over them while you're gone?"
Haplo's head snapped up. "What?" he demanded.
The older man flinched. "Only as a precaution. They'll just check in on you once or twice a day."
"Check in on us?"
The Sartan turned to Erri, who was grinning widely, trying not to laugh. "We really shouldn't delay any longer," he babbled. "Shall we, my dear?"
Marit grabbed him by the arm, kept him from leaving. "What's this about drakes babysitting us?"
"They're technically not babysitting, just making sure you're all right. Now if you'll excuse me-"
"Nice try, Alfred, but you're not in dragon form now. What in the name of the Sundering is going on?"
"I can't tell you," he repeated wearily. "I shouldn't know it in the first place."
"Well, you do, so tough luck."
"The drakes know," Haplo pointed out, trying to reason with the fool man.
"Of course. They have their own ways of knowing things."
The grinding of Marit's teeth was audible on Abarrach. "Spill the beans, Sartan. Now."
But Alfred shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough. Possibly even before Erri and I get back. Then you'll understand."
"What will we find out?"
No answer.
"Alfred-"
He slumped. "I'm sorry, but I can't in good conscience tell you."
Haplo arched a brow. "You can't in good conscience tell me why you're treating your two best friends like invalids? You're worried about something. Of course Marit and I want to know what's scaring you."
The Sartan blushed, ducked his head. "No, I'm just overreacting." A sad, rueful smile. "I know in my mind that everything will be all right- there aren't any more necromancers. It's just that I've had some bad experiences with this and can't shake the utterly irrational feeling that something will go wrong. But it won't, because women go-" His jaw snapped shut with an audible click.
Haplo froze, stiff as a board. Beside him, Marit's head jerked up. One hand went to her stomach. Erri looked from man to wife and back. She smiled. "Congratulations."
Alfred took in their reactions and groaned.
"How did you know before either of us?" Marit demanded.
"I smelled it," he explained, resigned. "When a woman gets with child, her scent changes enough for a dragon to pick the difference up. Remember how we fought yesterday morning when I was trying to take the drake captive? I smelled it even then."
Well, that would explain why he'd fought even more carefully than usual.
The poor Sartan continued his explanation, utterly miserable. "At first I thought you knew, but then you said that we were still going on the Run today. That was when I realized that neither of you had any idea. And since I'm neither the mother nor the father, I didn't think it would be right for me to tell you the good news."
"Quit apologizing," Haplo ordered automatically. He had moved closer to Marit, taken her free hand in his. A tiny smile crossed his face. A kid. Another kid. He did love his adoptive children- how could he not?- but there was always room for one more, especially if that one more had Marit's eyes and his smile.
Alfred, realizing that his friends weren't angry, perked up. "As Erri said, congratulations. Both of you." He opened his arms, silently asking permission to hug them. The couple nodded.
Erri let the friendship moment play out in silence, slightly jealous of their closeness but not envious enough to ruin it. When they pulled away, she coughed politely. Alfred, blushing, turned towards her. "Shall we be off, then?"
"Of course."
The day after Alfred and Erri left, Haplo and Marit managed to talk their 'babysitters' out of babysitting. "I've been pregnant before," the woman assured them. "Believe me, I know how to take care of myself."
"All right," sighed Patrick, the drake in charge of their welfare. "But if he takes umbrage at this, I will be blaming you."
"Somehow, I'm not particularly afraid of Alfred."
The drake's lips quirked up. "You should be. Didn't he once drive off an entire army of dragon-snakes?"
Marit waved a negligent hand. "Those were dragon-snakes. Alfred would never do anything like that to us. He loves us."
Patrick nodded, acknowledging her words as true.
"I'm more concerned about the kids," Haplo joked. "Who knows how they'll react to their new sibling?" But he wasn't really worried. The orphans knew that each and every one of them had a special spot in their family's hearts (at least, he hoped they knew so). No quantity of children could ever change that.
And, indeed, the children were thrilled. None of them were quite that young- Haplo and Marit were gone too often to take in babies, and Alfred was utterly terrified of dropping a helpless babe (he was a great deal less clumsy than he'd been, but old paranoia died hard) on its head- and they were looking forward to an actual infant in the house. As long as the adults were responsible for changing it, of course. Patryns were stoic and hardy, but few people actually liked cleaning babies.
Whenever he was approached, Haplo told the kids that he'd have Alfred whip up some spell that would keep the baby perpetually clean. If the man could kill the Labyrinth (as evidenced by the faint bite mark on his hand), then he was more than capable of making diaper duty irrelevant.
But, much to the adults' surprise, a few of the children were decidedly less than thrilled. Neither Haplo nor Marit could divine why. They received new orphans all the time, and the kids had never complained then.
The drakes shed light on the situation, their ability to read emotions coming in handy once more. "The children are afraid that once you have a scion of your own blood, you won't love them as much," Patrick explained. "Not to mention they know you won't be able to pay as much attention to them. This, of course, makes them angry with themselves as well, for they know that Patryns aren't supposed to feel this way. Your people don't think highly of jealousy for parental affection."
"Where," Marit demanded incredulously, "in the worlds did they get that idea?"
"They know that you took them in as part of your efforts to find your birth daughter. Of course they are concerned about this child."
Well, all right. That did make a bit of sense. They had no idea what to do about it, but it did make sense.
Surprisingly, Alfred came to their rescue once he returned from the Labyrinth. After his Patryn friends told him which kids were most concerned about losing their love, he struck up a conversation with those children. The exact contents of the conversations varied, but they boiled down to reassurances that yes, Haplo and Marit would love all their children equally even after the latest 'brother or sister' had been born.
"This is why I love being the grandfather," he confessed to the other adults of the house. "I don't have to worry about them being jealous of my children, because I don't have any and never w- what are you laughing at?" For the Patryns were indeed laughing. Probably at him, he thought.
Marit recovered first. Still grinning, she explained, "You're a serpent mage."
"What's so funny about that?"
Husband and wife exchanged amused glances. Marit continued, "So your children would be enormously powerful."
"I don't have any," he pointed out.
"Yet," Marit retorted. "Sooner or later some enterprising woman will decide she wants a child powerful enough to make the dragon-snakes cower in fear. Especially since you're the last of your bloodline. And your stunts with killing the Labyrinth and Royal One didn't help."
Alfred squeaked, eyes about to pop out of his head. "That's- that's-"
"In the Labyrinth," Haplo informed him solemnly, eyes bright with suppressed laughter, "it's considered a strong mage's duty to sire as many children as possible. That way the next generation will carry some of his strength."
The poor Sartan looked ready to resurrect his old habit of fainting.
"What we're trying to say," Marit finished, "is that you need to tell us exactly what you said to those kids, because sooner or later we'll have to give them the same talk."
Another squeak.
Once the children recovered from their fear of losing love (and Alfred had recovered from his newfound terror of Patryn women), family life was fairly quiet. Haplo and Marit grumbled a bit about not being allowed into the Labyrinth, but they both understood the necessity. They were a bit miffed that Alfred was still making Runs- the kid will need his/her grandfather too- but the Sartan was stubborn. He didn't make quite as many Runs, and the ones he took weren't too long, but that didn't stop Haplo from grumbling about hypocrisy.
In Alfred's defense, he stopped Running altogether in the last month before the child's birth. But once he'd stopped his journeys, the other adults found themselves wishing that he hadn't.
Alfred had grown up in an era of declining birthrates- meaning that stillbirths and miscarriages had been exceedingly common during his childhood and young adulthood. He had lost no fewer than five nieces and nephews before they were born and strongly suspected that he'd lost an unknown sibling that way as well- there was a five-year age gap between him, the baby of the family, and his sister. Things had gotten so bad that the Sartan of Arianus came to dread pregnancies, believing that they would only end in tragedy.
Even though Alfred knew now that the deaths had been a result of necromancy, not any natural causes, and that Marit was therefore in no danger of losing her child, he couldn't help worrying about her. This worry manifested itself in several rather annoying ways: whenever Marit tried to do something, she would find that Alfred had already done it. The Sartan took over all her daily tasks, fetched her food and drink before she knew she was hungry or thirsty. He watched her incessantly, flinching involuntarily whenever a child touched her bulging stomach.
"Knock it off," Haplo commanded. "For your own sake, if not for hers. She's about ready to murder you. Smothering the mother isn't going to help the kid." Alfred looked ready to protest, so Haplo rolled his eyes and added, "The way you carry on, I'd almost suspect I wasn't the father."
That, of course, changed Alfred's protest into a filthy glare. Haplo just chuckled.
But it turned out that their conversation was practically irrelevant, for two days later, Marit gave birth.
When it was over, the exhausted but blissful woman leaned back and muttered, "I'd forgotten how much that hurt."
"It looked painful," Haplo agreed. He wanted to go comfort her, but duty constrained him. It was the father's (or the headman's, if the father wasn't present. But that obviously wasn't applicable) job to give the infant its first tattoo, the name-rune above its breast. He finished the last line. "There. Done."
It had taken him a long, long time to find the perfect name for his son. In the end, he and Marit had decided on the Patryn word for 'gate.' The name referenced so much: that the child was safe, having been born beyond the Final Gate; that both his parents had traveled through Death's Gate; that Haplo had felt the power of the Seventh Gate. But it also looked towards the future, for what were gates but the opening of a thousand possibilities?
And it didn't hurt that Kordel sounded an awful lot like Coren.
Marit smiled at the rune on her son's breast. "Give him to me," she ordered her husband.
"Of course." Haplo handed the mewling child over. "Shall I go tell the family?"
"I think they know," Marit noted, inclining her head to the slightly open door. A pair of guilty children entered the room, their eyes riveted on the baby. "He has your nose," one informed Haplo.
The Patryn seized his opportunity. "I think he has his big sister's ears, don't you?"
The girl touched her ears, beaming. "He does!"
The other child, not wanting to be left out, added, "And my chin."
Their chins had nothing in common, but Haplo dutifully nodded. "I think he looks like all his siblings."
"Yeah," the girl agreed, batting aside a lock of her new brother's short brown hair. "He does."
'Drake' is what I call the dragons of Pryan. It helps differentiate them from the dragon-snakes and real dragons. 'Kordel' is an actual human name. It actually means 'cord maker,' but it sounded kind of like 'portal' (kind of) and 'Coren,' so I let that slide. Just pretend it really does mean 'gate.'
Fluffy family fluff is fluffy, no? Even in a family as weird as this one. Huzzah for fluff!
As for the scene where Haplo and Marit explain the facts of life to Alfred... Yeah. Kind of weird. But the sad thing is, I can really see some very practical Patryn woman deciding that despite his unfortunate Sartan-ness, Alfred would be a good catch. Especially if you take bottlenecking into account. But... yeah. Besides, Alfred deserves a love who doesn't die on him. And is it just me, or would tiny Montbanks be the cutest babies ever? Once again, yeah. My mind is so weird. I suppose you could consider this a challenge, if you wanted, but otherwise... Um, bye!
-Antares
