Excerpt from Dragon Child

Lawcket didn’t know how long it had been. He had fogged memories of his blankets and clothes being changed, of his Dad helping him drink more times than he could ever count, of restless nights that never seemed to pass, in which people kept doing something and talking rather quietly in miserable tones.

He had a memory of his Dad trying to get information about the boy he’d brought home. But his brain had been too muddled for him to even understand, and he couldn’t have responded clearly even if he had understood. Or maybe it was all just a dream.

He now found himself outside, the bright lighting blurring everything into a haze.

He had managed his way out to the garden, for what felt like the first time in many days, no the first time since he’d been home. Looccup, his dragon, assured him his sense of time was not that bad, even in his half-alive state. It had been days.

The world was gray and blurred, at best so fuzzy he had to guess at the plants, and the sun itself seemed strangely colorless. He felt its warm light shinning on him, and he knew everything around him was bathed in its dizzying golden brightness, yet for him it was hardly there, as though his mind wasn’t able to perceive the world.

He knew it was only the weakness of his mind, not anything wrong with his eyes, but somehow it made him feel he wasn’t really alive. The longer he was in this state the more he felt that he wasn’t really alive, that he was living a life that was half asleep.

It was somehow hard, no hard wasn’t right, but he somehow could not believe that he would ever live again with his whole life. His body was like a glass window which had become so clouded that he would never see clearly through it again. It reminded him of something which he had experienced when he and Looccup had saved each other back in his first time in the dragon valley. He knew it might not be true, but he couldn’t even imagine the bright colors and sharp pleasant awareness of living in a fully alive body. The feel the wind once made on his face, the way he could once listen to the world and know its sound, and touch, and life, without this clouded glass between him and everything, seemed now like some impossible magic, like dreaming of being a creature of higher senses and powers, as though he were an earthworm dreaming to be a bird.

He tried to feel the warmth of the sun on his face as best he could, and made his way slowly over the path. He was able to walk as long as he moved slowly and stopped to wait whenever he faded farther from the world. Sometimes he had to drop slowly to hands and knees, though usually waiting worked. So far he hadn’t lost consciousness completely.

He tried to think that his being this alive days later meant he was going to live, but given how much there was between him and the world it was hard for him to convince himself that he might not be dying– just slowly.

He wondered if it was the extremity of his pain, or just the weakness of his state, that so strongly clouded his interaction with the world.

At this point he had been in the pain so long that even when it fluctuated he didn’t feel it the way he used to. It was something he was wrapped in– something he hadn’t been free from in so long– and now it was dull.

When at last Lawcket reached the garden fence, he felt a little more alive. He leaned himself against the wood fence. It caused him very little pain. In fact it was perhaps more comfortable than lying on the bed had been– Maybe he would be able to enjoy being alive again.

Lawcket just leaned his arms over the fence and tried to enjoy all the pleasure at his disposal.

“I love you–” It was Looccup, her mind a caring well of fire, hotter and warmer than the sun– And if Lawcket could know nothing else as pleasure, her love and her mind voice were pleasure and comfort untainted by any suffering or any weakness which seemed to pull him from the world.

Even now her comfort, the friendship of her fire, was a comfort and love so filling his heart that he almost felt it was impossible he had not died, and in the very same felt that death was impossible, that he simply could not die. He would never cease to be awestruck by the wonder of the love so deep it could be compared only to death, and yet which made death impossible.

He bowed his head wearily. “I love you too.”

“Live for me.” It was a plea and yet a command, gentle with infinite love and steadfast warmth.

“I live for you every breath that I breath,” Lawcket told his dragon with all the purpose left in him, pained with her pain and comforted with her love. “I live for you every moment I am aware that I am. I’ll live for you as long as I have life in this body. I’ll live for you even in my death, I promise.” The comfort her love gave him outweighed even the pain of all his loss being the loss to her that it could never be to him.

Looccup came to the fence and blew warm breath over his face. It ruffled his hair trying to set it free from the stiff mess it had deteriorated into due to the suffering he’d endured, and warmed his face with a heat he’d learned to love, a heat which somehow felt good on his wounds.

He didn’t have to do anything. He just leaned there, and didn’t even try to show the life he didn’t have the strength for. He was grateful that he got to simply rest.

He didn’t resent the things he’d had to do, the times he’d had to struggle, even when he felt it was through the weakest of all pain and with his last bit of life that he struggled, but that didn’t keep him from being grateful that that wasn’t now, that no struggle was asked for or needed now.

The sun moved, the breeze shifted, but Lawcket remained comfortable. He was aware of his Mom and little siblings– someone came into the garden once, but he was left be for hours.

He wanted to be in a place with more open sun, but he didn’t think he could get over the fence, the fence he’d climbed without a thought almost since his memory.

Lawcket stood and placed his hands on the fence, stabilizing on his feet the weight he’d been trusting the fence to balance but still resting his hands on the wood cross-logs for assurance.

It was a breath of relief, like cooling water against heat, when standing back didn’t hurt either in the wounds his shoulders and back were covered with, or as weakness from moving.

Maybe I can get over you? If I’m not dying why shouldn’t I be able to do this?

If I do things slowly– my body works– nothing’s broken, so I shouldn’t have to worry about that, and I’m not that weak. I might not be able to do much, but if I’m human I can climb a fence slowly and carefully.

This would hurt. Lawcket didn’t think there was a chance someone in his state could climb a fence without it being painful. But given how used to pain his body was he might be able to climb a fence without a lot of willpower against the pain. And if it did hurt badly– he flinched away from the anticipation– he’d had to deal with too much, both hard and painful– he’d give himself at least the break of not anticipating pain.

Lawcket gripped the fence and lifted enough weight into his arms to put one foot on the lowest log and slowly lift his weight from the ground– The wave of weakness was mild.

In a careful slow, almost painstaking manner, Lawcket got himself over the fence.

It wasn’t long after that Looccup told him they, meaning Aisferk and the two boys, wanted her help, and asked if he wanted her to stay. Lawcket told her she could go help them– the sun would do for him. He and she would always be together in the bond of their hearts.

Lawcket found a place to lie down in the sun, and lay there hoping he would get to lie there for days and find himself still in the sun.

Lelliddy found him there.

“Lawcket–?” Her voice was small and hesitant voice, as though she half feared he couldn’t still be Lawcket.

She was such a caring child. Lawcket wished he could pay her back with some kindness.

“Lell,” he answered in a soft breath, which was all he thought he could manage. He tried to convey his affection for her even through the weakness of his voice.

He pushed himself up with his arms, so that he was almost sitting, but with the weight of his upper body supported by the pillar of his arm.

“Mamma says me shouldn’t go ta you.” Lelliddy said.

Lawcket bowed his head in shame as well as weakness. He didn’t want to do anything against their Mom’s wishes, especially not now, but how could he not care for his little sister, and want to still be her brother? In a way they were attached to each other. She needed to know who he was, that he was still Lawcket, that hurt didn’t make him not him.

“I’m sorry, Lell,” he said.

“You look really hurt,” Lelliddy ventured, still hesitant.

Lawcket admired her need to explore which would never override her care.

She was so young that she couldn’t understand what it was to be hurt as he was, and for that he was grateful for it might give him something with which to shield her from hiss state. But she still knew he was hurt, and she was the gentlest child possible.

“I kind of am,” he said, a quiver of pain meeting the weakness in his voice. “But it’s not as bad as I look. I’m still me, even though I’m ugly.”

He caught her colorful, half brown, hazel eyes with a smile sparkling in his. He couldn’t joke with his voice very well, but he still had his eyes.

She came nearer. “Can me touch you?” She asked.

Lawcket’s heart fluttered briefly. She was intelligent to know at her age how to be careful not to hurt a very hurt person.

“Sure,” he said, reaching out the hand he didn’t need to support his weight to link with her small hand and guide it toward his body.

He got himself into a little better of a sitting position.

She came close to him, carefully, and let him guide her hand as though she feared to touch him anywhere he did not guide her to.

He guided her hand first to his body and let her clutch his shirt in her small fingers, then let her reach up and touch his face. He felt her soft fingers gently over a scab line, relishing in the feel of her tiny hand on his face, then let her touch his mouth, letting her feel his warm wet breath. Her fingers curled over his lips with a fearless affection fit to a baby animal, a fearless affection that made Lawcket miss every baby goat he’d ever known, especially Littly when she was a baby. At least he still had her, except he was too hurt to see her, and he was sure his current appearance would make her fear him. Lawcket loved little ones. He loved the way they loved him, and the way they liked everything he did for them, even if it was just to enjoy their happiness and affection. Toddler human, or baby animal, he loved them all alike. There was a way in which nothing made him happier than the affection of little ones.

Lelliddy settled slowly into his lap and fiddled with the fabric of his shirt.

He ran his fingers, slowly and gently through his sister’s thick red hair, overwhelmed with something like contentment at having her little affectionate and caring self cuddled against him. Lelliddy had always given him a kind of contentment even when he’d held her as a baby. Getting to have her affection and give her his was far more than worth the small amount of pain it could cause him. Lawcket couldn’t imagine a more healing comfort than getting to be with his little sister.

She snuggled her head against him. “Me doesn’t know why Momma doesn’t want me to go a you. Me like being with you,” she mumbled into his clothes.

“She might be afraid you don’t know how to make sure you don’t hurt me,” Lawcket said, his voice weak, but somehow the affection in his fingers which touched her hair seemed to be in his voice as well.

“Me don’t want you be hurt,” she said fiddling with his clothes again, her voice almost too gentle for her age. “Why are you hurt?”

She cared so much– He had to find a way to keep her away from pain.

Lawcket bent his back, though he couldn’t avoid the pain such an action caused, and pulling her up and against him kissed her small forehead.

“Some people far away hurt me,” he answered her question simply. “I don’t mind being hurt very much though.”

Lelliddy reached her little arms around his neck, hugging her small body to him.

Lawcket nuzzled her hair with his mouth. He still could be happy still. What he’d told her really was true– So long as he had her he didn’t really mind.

Wow, I’m really alive. The dungeon and my weakness are gone. I’m me. I’m me with my little Lelliddy, my little sister.

“Lell, I really don’t care much. Being hurt isn’t that bad. But I like getting to be with you. It makes me feel less hurt than I am.”

“Me don’t want you be hurt. You have ugliness all over you,” she said, hiding her voice in his clothes.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help being ugly,” he said with more play than honesty, a smile playing at the edge of his voice.

He tickled her ribs just barely to make her giggle. Her hands moved and he couldn’t quite keep from flinching as she clutched his shoulder– but it was his fault, and it might have been worth teasing her. How else was he going to keep her away from how hurt he was, and still have her?

He hugged her for a few more moments, treasuring the feel of her small arms wrapped around him as far as they reached. Somehow he was so happy just to be loved by his tiny sister, and he’d do anything to protect her and keep her happy. He was so happy that he was alive, that he was still Lelliddy’s brother.

Weakness was catching up with him. If I don’t lie down again I might lose consciousness. His vision was blurring and graying again, and he felt like he was spinning in a place where gravity had started working from random directions.

“Lell, I need to get down,” he managed, and shoved her gently away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lying again on his side, reaching his fingers out on the sun warmed grass. “The way I’m hurt just sometimes makes me need to lie down.”

He tried to cast his eyes up to see her, but failed and decided that it wasn’t worth it, especially accounting for the risk that locating her might be impossible.

“You can go in, to Mom, if you want,” he said, feeling half like he was talking to the sun warmed ground, since he couldn’t see her. “But if you want you can lie down with me.”

                                                                                                                                  “Lawcket?” Aisferk’s voice was soft, yet the question in it almost made Lawcket fear his father feared he was dead.

He began to roll over, then gasped silently in pain and tried again more slowly.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“You want to come inside?” Aisferk asked, his voice still very mild, as though he feared anything more would be too much for his son in his current state.

Lawcket managed to sit up. He carefully tried to detach a lock of his hair from the blood on his face. He was definitely feeling better.

“I’m not sure Mom wants me around,” he said, surprised by the tone which had returned to his voice. He sounded like a weak and girlish Lawcket, not a shell of a human voice, too weak to be alive.

Aisferk’s mouth opened, but he failed to speak for a few moments, leaving his chin slightly dropped and ready to form words as he tried to find a way to explain things as best as he could understand them.

“Lawcket, I think your mother– Mesellah, thinks you’re going to die, and doesn’t want the younger ones to have to deal with the pain of it. She’s hurt and horrified, but she doesn’t not care about you.”

“I’m sor-ry.” Lawcket said.

It stung even now. He hurt by being hurt. It was a hard lessen to learn, that suffering was often more an affliction on one’s family, the ones by whom one was loved, than on oneself. He should have learned it long ago. In a way he had, but it still stung.

He wished he could make it better. He would have been willing to suffer even more to do so. His worst suffering wasn’t what happened to him but what it did to those who loved him.

He understood that he was hard to love when he meant only horror to the ones who loved him. He couldn’t blame them if they didn’t want him.

Aisferk knelt.

“No, Lawcket,” he said gently. “It’s not your doing. But I want you to understand what your mother feels. I don’t think you have to die. I think we can get you back together– and I’m not going to fail to try. Mesellah cares about you too. There’s just sometimes an end to what people can bear. And seeing you only makes her think how hurt you are, and that she can’t bear for any of her other children to go through this.”

“What about Lell?” Lawcket said feeling pale, his voice weak again.

“Mes would rather she weren’t attached to you, but even at her age people get to choose. That’s mostly up to you and her.”

Lawcket let his eyes fall. “I don’t want to hurt, but sometimes it seems the best I can do is assure those who love me that I’m well, in a way– even if they’re young like Lelliddy.”

“I confess I don’t understand certain things about you,” Aisferk said, “but it’s possible you and Lelliddy both have something I don’t get. I won’t ask you not to interact with her. Your mother might want it, but I don’t think we’re meant to make all choices, and I don’t want to make you more alone than you have to be, or to do to Lelliddy what I almost did to you as a child of her age.”

“I kind of wish she weren’t so attached to me, if only for Mom’s sake,” Lawcket said tiredly. “But I– I’m too tired to understand.

“I’m just going to try to live.” Lawcket managed to look up with a weak smile, which won the approving hint of a smile from Aisferk.

“Then lets get you inside,” his father said, offering a hand to help Lawcket up, “unless you think you’re better off with your dragon?”

Lawcket took his Dad’s hand, and half pulled himself, half was pulled, to his feet.

“Mom might like that better, and Looccup is warm enough to keep me warm.”

Aisferk held Lawcket on his feet and looked into his son’s face.

“I wish I could hug you,” he said. “I don’t even know how you can think so much about other people.”

“You might be able to hug me. It probably won’t actually hurt me.”

“Then here,” Aisferk said, “lets see if I can carry you under Looccup. I’ll make you a bed, and bring you the best I can to eat afterward.”

He picked Lawcket up with amazingly gentleness, given that Lawcket was no longer a little child.

“Dad, I don’t know what to say,” Lawcket said, as Aisferk put him down under Looccup’s wing.

“Then don’t say anything. You don’t need to thank me for taking care of you. You’re my own kid.”

“But I’ve been so much pain to all of you. And I don’t want things to be wasted on taking care of me if–”

“Lawcket,” Aisferk said, gentle but firm, “it isn’t wasted even if we can’t keep you. But I’m going to try, and I think so far we’ve been succeeding.”

Lawcket leaned against Looccup’s side, and stretched out an arm to touch Aisferk’s hand with his fingers.

If he knew he were going to die, it would almost have been more pleasant, more peaceful, to simply let it happen, to waste nothing on trying to stop the unavoidable, but since he only felt like he was dying he had to try, and though the process might be as slow and tiring as climbing a mountain, it was likely to bring him back again, but that again felt so far away, so far away it could almost have been after dying.

“Then, thanks– and if there’s anything you can say to help Mom, I’d like that.” Lawcket heard his own voice as though it were coming from some distance outside of him.

“I think the best thing we can do is keep you alive. I’ll be back to make you a bed,” Aisferk said.

Lawcket let go of his nearly need like impulse to keep his Dad with him a moment longer, and let Aisferk’s hand slip away from his fingers, feeling so weak that he felt it would never come back, felt that his fingers would never again touch his Dad who loved him.

How can dying be so slow even when it’s not dying? I suppose I lost so much blood that every heartbeat feels it weakens me, but not enough to actually die.

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