Page 17 of Henrikk’s Secret

He’d never seen the white dragons with his own eyes, only in his mind when Dargotika dreamt of them, her projections travelling through time and space to reach him in another world.

Hmm. The dragon’s claws tapped the floor in consideration. She failed to hide her lust for revenge.

“We will give you back your wings,” Henrikk promised, his voice stronger now. “Asher knows where the last witch is. And if you save him, I will bring the witch to you. But if he dies—” His voice cut off as the dragon gave a deep sigh.

Very well. But you will bring him here as collateral. And I have other terms.

Whatever they were, he would accept them.

Come here…King Henrikk.

Henrikk rose to his feet, nearly losing his balance. He was disorientated after almost drowning, and a sudden throbbing headache was threatening to split his head in two.

As he approached Dargotika, he raised his head, forcing himself to stare into the face of absolute evil. He felt a stark sense of horror when he saw himself reflected in her shining red eyes.

Closer, she urged.

Reluctantly, Henrikk took another step closer.

I ought to kill you instead, she growled as a sharp, stained talon punctured the scaly armour of her foreleg. Henrikk stared in awe as the great creature’s blood flowed down her scaly limb, a rich mahogany like a dark rum.

Kneel, Dargotika commanded.

Henrikk knelt reverently. He’d been given an unprecedented concession, to be allowed to drink the dragon’s blood.

It would come with more strings attached, but he didn’t ask what Dargotika’s terms were. It didn’t matter. He would do anything to save Asher.

Did you bring a glass vial?

Henrikk had not had that foresight, and the dragon snorted its disapproval, fresh smoke thickening the air.

Drink.

Dutifully, he bent his head until his lips were wet with the creature’s blood. He winced as the liquid hit his tongue, cringing involuntarily.

Well, it certainly did not taste like rum, and it was all he could do not to retch the stuff up. He refrained from informing the O Mighty Creature that her precious blood tasted like cat piss mixed with vinegar.

When he’d drunk as much as he could stomach, Henrikk drew back and stood on shaking legs.

The dragon made an approving sound that echoed through the cavern and sent ripples across the pool of water behind her.

Now, what am I to do with you?

“I am your most loyal servant,” Henrikk lied, adding as much flourish as he could into his bow.

Indeed… The dragon grew thoughtful, shuffling her impressive mass of gleaming black scales. They weren’t truly black, but stained and encrusted by barnacles over the centuries. As her scales rippled in motion, he caught a glimpse of white flesh underneath, the only evidence that she’d once been as white and pure as the dragons who’d driven her into the ocean. Her red eyes glowed greedily as she surveyed Henrikk. It is true, I suppose, that one can never have enough loyal servants. I think we need one more.

Henrikk frowned. “I thought I was the only other person who lived on this island.”

You are. But…we can remedy that.

Sometime later, Henrikk endured the torturous swim back to the portal. Once again, he did not surface for air but swam directly from the dragon’s den without stopping.

There was only one of him when he’d left his office, but when he returned, there were two Henrikks that climbed through the trapdoor.

Giving himself a helping hand to climb up was the most utterly bizarre thing he’d ever experienced, and he hoped never to repeat it again.

The first thing that they did when he emerged from the portal was check the timepiece on his desk. Miraculously, less than half an hour had passed. Henrikk allowed himself a small sigh of relief, the gentle rush of air emulated by the identical, Henrikk-like figure beside him. It was quite disturbing seeing himself this way: the figure stood beside him with the same appearance and mannerisms.