The Brotherhood of the Dragon

Chapter Four

Chapter FourMy head hurt. Actually, my head had already been hurting before my run in with the flat end of the shovel. It had been hurting ever since I woke up in bed in what was now starting to feel like days ago. What I meant to say was my head no longer simply sore, it was now a source of complete and utter misery. It felt as though the shovel had split my skull in two and was still sitting there, like some handyman’s Excalibur, waiting to be drawn out by the true king of England.

Before my vision swam the face of my attacker. For some strange reason he looked concerned.

‘Are you kidding around, Amun? Did I hit you too hard?’

Though a reply formed, it somehow got lost on the way out. ‘Blarrgggg Mineww Woorkeels.’

‘Come on, I did not hit you that hard.’

‘Frzzberker blitwort.’

‘Hmm, maybe I did hit you too hard.’

Though most of my motor functions seemed to have deserted me, the sharp pain in my head kept my mind focused enough to keep an eye on what my attacker was up to. He first got up and looked about, perhaps to make sure his ambush had remained unseen and there was no one rushing to my rescue. Next, he returned to my side and removed a small tobacco tin from his top pocket. This he opened, and from within removed a butterfly very similar to the one I had seen earlier during my walk with Robyn Stamford. The gardener took the insect and, forcing my mouth open with his left hand, placed it on my tongue. He then clamped one incredibly powerful fist over my mouth and nose and almost politely said, ‘Swallow.’

As hard as I tried to squirm from under his grip, the man effortlessly held me in place.

‘Swallow!’ he said again with more force.

Already I could feel the fragile creature’s body dissolving in my mouth as my body tried to dislodge the irritant by drowning it in saliva. I could feel the harder parts rubbing against the roof of my mouth, and then starting to migrate down my throat as the butterfly disintegrated.

‘Swallow … it …’ the man said again, sensing my attempt to resist disappearing along with what air was in my lungs. ‘For God’s sake, Amun, just swallow the damn thing.’

Finally, my chest heaved and spasmed as blissful unconsciousness approached. Just before I blacked out I felt my throat automatically swallow, and once my attacker was sure I had not somehow faked everything, he released me.

With a gasp, fresh cool air flooded my lungs and my amnesia melted away like, well, like a butterfly on your tongue.