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  Suva answered, “It is explained in the old runes, along with many cautions about using them. I wish we never had to touch the filthy cross-breeds. Allowing them to live is dangerous. Sometimes they respond badly to the conditioning and can be a problem for us. However, we have to use cross-breeds to augment the dragon’s brain because they are the only animals that can sense and use both kinds of dark energy. The wild orbs can only sense one kind of dark energy. We, of course, can sense the other kind of dark energy – the only proper kind. Unfortunately, we need the cross-breed animal brain to allow the flow of both kinds of dark energy within the dragon. That is what cross-breeds are for – their only purpose. They provide no other use to our existence!”

  “But the cross-breed brain cannot control the beast, can it?” Om asked, eyeing Erin uncertainly.

  “No! Of course not! That would be foolish. We control the dragon, of course. We control its mind through the dragon stone, and its original reptile brain controls its body. The cross-breed brain that we put inside the dragon cannot influence anything, but it does sense everything that happens – everything that the dragon sees, feels, and thinks.” She looked at the remains of the morning’s glob of drone gruel, stuck to the stone floor. “What a waste of food. How long will I need to keep these extra vermin alive before you know if the operation was successful?”

  “It depends on the suitability of the first set of parts,” Om said, gesturing towards the door where her drone had taken the compliant captive. “The procedure will take some time. We have to prepare the replacement parts. Then we have to subdue the dragon, so that we can operate to remove the expended parts, and then we have to install the replacement parts. It’s a bit of a delicate process, you know. Nerve wracking. Then we have to wait to make sure the parts are not rejected by the dragon. If they are, we have to start over. And we are busy this time of year, you know, with the fall festival and all. I have better things to do than nurse an ailing dragon!”

  “Then it will be a day or two before you know,” Suva said. “In the meantime, I want to start the process early on this one!” She pointed at Erin.

  “Oh good,” laughed the second mother. “That will be fun to watch!”

  Suva clapped her hands and a clutchman appeared.

  “Lame that one, but make sure she stays alive,” she said, pointing at Erin. The clutchman picked up a sledgehammer from the side of the room and approached Erin, sizing up the most efficient way to strike. He raised the sledge above his head. Om giggled in anticipation.

  Erin felt blow after blow to her feet and the agonizing pain that resulted. When it was over, she knelt in her chains over her bloody broken feet and whimpered silently. Even through the pain, she made sure that she was doing everything right to please the mothers.

  “Every time you think about – or ‘visualize’ – any or all of your children, you will punish yourself with the same pain that you just felt.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Erin heard herself answering.

  ✽✽✽

  Erin passed in and out of consciousness from the pain. She was aware that at least one night had passed when she saw the morning food on the floor, lit by the sun shining through the wall slit. She was cold and wallowing in her own filth. Her feet were caked with dried blood and were in intense pain. Her body ached from being chained to the floor. She was vaguely aware that sometime during her suffering the other woman had been removed from the room.

  I will not give in. A vision of a tiny hand holding a red river stone came to her mind. I can think about the red stone, the talisman that Leon gave to me at the start of our quest. It will be a surrogate for my children and if I think of it, and not my children, I will be following the mother’s directions. She bit her lip, and thought of the little red stone. I may die in pain, but I will not give in to the elves.

  Suva appeared late in the afternoon and looked at Erin kneeling quietly. “You are starting to behave. It’s about time. Too bad it doesn’t matter. The first cross-breed was mangled during the transfer – good thing we had a second one. The stupid operating drone did a little better with the second animal and extracted the spare parts adequately. Our little dragon has already started to mend and use its new brain. So, Mother Om will not need you after all!” She squinted at Erin, hunched on the stone floor. “Sadly, I don’t have time today to remove your limbs, although it would have been entertaining to watch.” She reached out to touch Erin’s head and then thought better of touching such a filthy creature. “Go to sleep and do not wake up.”

  Sleep. That would bring relief. Relief from the pain. Erin started to close her eyes; then the vision of a tiny hand holding a red pebble ignited the last shreds of her free will.

  But no! If I give in my children will never see me again. In the far corners of her mind she could sense two little people who were very concerned about her. She tried to link to them and draw strength as the pain increased. The vision of a little red stone burned brighter and brighter in her mind and she let the pain come as she clung to the bright glow. Ariana, my little Ari – Leon, my little prince – Mamma will not give up. If I never see you again, be proud of me. Know that I go as a warrior – a rider, and Princess of Theland! Do not cry for me, little ones. Be strong, because mother will be strong.

  Although the pain she was experiencing was overwhelming, Erin found the vision of a tiny hand holding a red stone. The rock seemed to glow brighter and brighter. Her mind wrapped itself in the light of the vision and she allowed the pain to flow around her. I might not win, but I will die as a warrior and true rider. I will fight as long as I can. I will not give in to the elves. I am Erin, Princess of Theland!

  Erin lay kneeling and chained on the floor contorted in agony. The tall mother watched her for a time and then said, “You are a rare one.” She shook her head and moved towards the main door. “Suit yourself, little animal. You may lie here and resist as long as you want. I will check on you in the morning, and if you are still awake, and resisting, my clutchman will end your life the traditional way – with a spear.” The mother laughed at Erin’s painful broken figure as she walked out.

  I can fight as long as I want, but they will kill me anyway. It would be easier to just close my eyes and not wake up. Tears welled up.

  No! I will die a warrior! I will not give in to the mother’s command.

  The little red river stone in the tiny hand glowed ever brighter in her mind until it consumed all her thoughts and filled her being. Erin wrapped her mind around the vision and vowed to resist as long as she could; but she knew that when exhaustion claimed her, it would be permanent.

  11 – Reaching New Haven

  Ouch.

  The cotton bolls, or whatever they were, had sharp spines on the lower stems. The other pickers knew to avoid these, Alec figured, because they were not constantly stopping to nurse a pricked finger.

  So now I’m a field hand. But not too handy in this field.

  After watching the other pickers, Alec became acutely aware that he did not look like them. His body was too clean, his fake drone collar was too shiny, and his torso was almost white in comparison to the skin on his arms and legs. When the overseer was not looking his way, Alec wallowed in a mud puddle to disguise his fair skin, and slopped mud on his head to conceal his longish hair. Now he did not look that different than the field drones – if someone didn’t look closely.

  There were seven field drones in his group, three of them women. Each drone bent from the waist, carefully picking the fluffy white pods from the plant and placing them in a large burlap bag. Then the drone moved to the next plant and repeated the process. The slow process was backbreaking. At the end of the field, the contents of all the sacks were dumped into a larger wicker container, and then Alec and the drones started back across the field. When the crew returned to the far side of the field, by the road where Alec had first started, the elves’ inspection point on the main road was gone. I guess the mothers checked all the drones returning from the obscuring fiel
d, and packed up and went home. Alec saw no sign of the elves or his former companion drones.

  Now what. Alec hadn’t figured out his next step. He had escaped the immediate crisis of the mother inspecting him along with the other domestic drones, but now he was naked in a muddy field under a blazing sun with a gaggle of smelly field drones. His entire body was sweating under the mud, and his white back was starting to sunburn even with the grimy coating. Periodically, a clutchman or two walked along the paths bordering the fields, searching for errant – or dead? – drones. Leaving won’t be as easy as just walking off.

  Alec continued working until dusk; then a bell rang. The drones in his group stopped in the middle of the field and followed the overseer towards a feeding center. The drones lined up and each was given a trencher with a dollop of thick porridge. Alec hadn’t eaten all day, so he ate the porridge – it was tasteless but filling, with lumps of sweetly-gamy tasting meat that he couldn’t identify. Roadkill? There seemed to be no restrictions on the amount and Alec noticed several of the drones took second helpings so he did as well. After the porridge, a second bell rang, and all the drones lined up. The line moved quickly; at the front of the line, he was given a small amount of a dark, corky-looking substance. Purple mushroom root, he thought. A wonderful way to get a mind-numbing high and burn out your brains. He handed his ration to the drone standing beside him, who happily took it.

  All the drones clambered into the sleeping hut, which looked much like the ones his travelling companion had pointed out to him the day before. The long low hut had a rough-hewn wooden floor that was elevated about a foot above the ground. It had a slightly sloped roof – the only protection from the weather. In the front, the roof was only an arn or so above the floor and in the back the roof planks connected to the floor. Over a hundred field drones climbed under the structure and settled in for the night.

  Alec tried to stretch out, but being somewhat taller than most of the field drones, it was difficult. The forest grass feels better than this floor, he thought. Sleep did not come quickly. Every sinew of his body ached. Focus. Alec drew dark energy from the native force field, and could feel his medallion, now sealed within his abdomen, throb and warm. He focused the energy and made it flow through his body. His chapped and burned skin smoothed, and the oozing sores on his feet and legs, just starting to become infected from the filth, closed and healed.

  With so many drones crammed together under the slanting roof, it was impossible to find any space where he was not jammed up against another naked body. He sensed a skinny body curl up next to him – one of the women drones from his group. He could sense that she seemed to have an infection of some sort, and, having healed his own sores, thought that perhaps he could help her. He let his senses flow through her body. Endometriosis, he thought, or maybe some other kind of infection near her uterus. He could sense that the disease prevented her from conceiving; if she could not conceive and bear pups, she would be put to death. Focus. He directed dark energy into her body. He was sure he could heal her problem with enough dark energy, but without Erin to help him feel the rightness, he didn’t know if it was enough.

  The amount of dark energy must have been enough to do something, however, since it excited the woman. She climbed on top of him and began thrusting her pelvis against his. No. Not that. There was no way to move from under her. He grabbed her rear and tried to slide her onto the man next to him, but she resisted and stayed on top of him, grinding, panting, and moaning. He pushed her again, harder, and this time she stayed on his neighbor. He seems quite willing. Good. The two of them moaned and huffed for a few minutes, gyrating against Alec’s side. There wasn’t even room for him to roll away. He lay passively until the two of them finished. Then the woman wedged herself between him and the other man and went to sleep.

  Alec could not sleep. The smelly bodies almost made him choke. Rain was a blessing when it came. The roof only provided partial protection; the warm rain coming in the open side of the hut next to him brought a waft of fresh air and washed away some of the smell. Occasionally during the night, he could hear or feel other male and female drone coupling. Both parties seemed to be willing in these couplings, he mentally noted. A result of the purple mushroom – makes everybody look better than they are, he thought wryly.

  ✽✽✽

  Before dawn, a bell rang, and the drones were up. Another meal of the same lumpy meat porridge was served. After the meal, another bell rang. A few clutchmen and the drone overseers waited outside the feeding station, each with a hand raised with fingers indicating how many field workers they needed for the day. Alec saw his group overseer from yesterday with two members of his group. Alec lined up behind them.

  Some of the field drones were obviously feeling the effects of last night’s purple mushroom and sat drooling or wandered aimlessly. The confused drones were herded off to one side.

  Once the overseer had a full crew, he led Alec and the other drones back to the field. Alec noted the other three members of his group were different than yesterday; one of the women was obviously pregnant.

  Alec again spent the day picking the white bolls. There was no break, but a drone with water came through the field in mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Alec kept watching his surroundings as he worked. He noted that the clutchmen patrolling the fields did not seem to have any regimen or schedule – they would sometimes appear, singly or in twos or threes, looking for wandering drones. If they encountered one, they would approach and command it to return to its task; if the drone did not respond, they used whips and truncheons to force the drone back to the field. Alec also noted that the clutchmen occasionally took advantage of younger drones, especially those near the edge of the field, and abused them or coupled with them, independent of their sex. It was clear to Alec that if he tried to leave by just walking away from the fields, he was going to have to fight the clutchmen, and that would remove any chance of stealth. And possibly lead to my untimely death.

  The next day was a repeat of the previous day. A different set of drones were working in the field beside him. Clutchmen continued to patrol the paths alongside the fields, occasionally coupling with women they encountered on the edge of the field. The women tolerated the act, but obviously wanted the clutchmen to hurry to climax because the drone overseers expected them to keep up with the other workers and gave them no relief. Alec noticed that the females and young men planned their work to avoid the field edges when the clutchmen were close.

  ✽✽✽

  Need to get out of here.

  Alec was contemplating trying something desperate and bolting from the field, when towards mid-morning a better opportunity arose. His group of field drones had been dumping their small sacks of white fluff into the large wicker containers positioned at the edge of the fields. Now, four of the large containers were full. Alec saw a service drone bring poles and leather harnesses, and leave two poles and a harness alongside each of the containers. Each container had brackets on the sides that the poles were meant to slide through. The overseer started putting his hand on nearby drones and nudging them towards the containers. Alec nonchalantly stood up in the field and ambled over close to the overseer; the man promptly grabbed Alec by the shoulder and directed him to the side of the wicker container.

  Alec watched the other field drones fall to their knees and followed suit. The overseer strapped Alec and three other field workers into a harness attached to the poles; the harness straps ran across his upper back so that he could not release them of his own accord.

  When drones were harnessed to all four containers, the lead drone motioned for them to lift; the four drones on each container simultaneously stood, lifting the heavy, awkward contraption to shoulder height. As Alec was significantly taller than the other three, the load was very uneven. The four of them strained to maintain their footing, then began a slow, laborious march down the path. They came to the main road and turned in the direction of the New Haven gates. After a couple of hours of the slow
march the lead drone called a halt and the harnessed drones knelt, still resting the heavy load on their shoulders. A service drone appeared and gave each drone porter a ladle-full of water from a common bucket; no one made any attempt to release the chafing harnesses. It was impossible to find a comfortable position, but Alec did manage a bit of rest while leaning against the container. Soon, the caravan was off and again trudging up the unpaved road towards the city.

  Shortly after their water break, one of the drones in the group in front of Alec’s stepped in a rut and twisted his ankle. All four drones carrying the container crashed to the ground, with the injured man crushed under the heavy container. The lead drone stopped the procession and all the other porter drones lowered their containers and waited on their knees. The lead drone commandeered a couple of drones from the adjacent field and with their help the three others managed to lift the heavy load off the injured man. Ignoring the man’s moans, the lead drone checked him, determined that he could not walk, unharnessed him, and drug him to the edge of the field. A clutchman came up and inspected the fallen drone. Once the clutchman agreed that the mangled drone could not walk, he drew his knife and slit the drone’s throat. Then he proceeded to field dress the dead drone, slitting the body from sternum to pubis and dumping the intestines and internal organs on the edge of the field. Two other drones were summoned. They brought a pole for the carcass, tied the dead drone’s hands and feet to it, and carried the body off.

  With a sickening feeling, Alec suspected that he now knew the source of the meat in the daily porridge. It really is roadkill.

  The lead drone ignored the butchering and motioned for the caravan to restart. One of the commandeered drones was strapped into the harness position left vacant by the injured man. With hollow eyes and emotionless faces, the drones lifted their buckets, and passing by the still-steaming entrails, the caravan resumed its slow pace.