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    Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #2
    Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #2
    Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #2
    Ebook354 pages5 hoursThe Wittegen Press Giveaway Games

    Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #2

    By Natasha Duncan-Drake

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    About this ebook

    One Author. Thirteen Unforgettable Stories. A Month of Frantic Creativity.

    Dive into this captivating collection by Natasha Duncan-Drake, one of the creative minds behind Wittegen Press. Born from a thrilling month-long challenge, one short story or instalment written every single day, this mesmerizing anthology spans genres and pushes imagination to its limits.

    Experience pulse-pounding horror, enchanting fantasy, daring science fiction, paranormal adventures, emotional young adult drama, and enticing erotica. Within these pages, you'll join a spy whose deadly mission takes an unexpected twist as he's turned into a vampire, encounter an alien crash-landing into someone's backyard pool, and meet a delightfully disturbing zombie cat, among other unforgettable characters.

    Previously released as daily digital delights, these thirteen tales are now available together for the first time in one immersive volume. Get ready for a breathtaking journey through dark nightmares, vivid worlds, and extraordinary experiences.

    Open the book, and let the adventure begin...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWittegen Press
    Release dateJan 11, 2013
    ISBN9781908333407
    Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #2
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    Author

    Natasha Duncan-Drake

    Natasha is a British author living in the southeast of England with her husband and two cats. She has been publishing genre fiction with Wittegen Press since 2011. Her work includes everything from horror to young adult fantasy and she has never met a genre she didn't like. A prolific producer of short stories and novels alike, Natasha currently has a plethora of titles in her back catalogue, with further releases always imminent. Natasha was inspired to start writing way back as a pre-teen after she read The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. She is a huge fan of science fiction, fantasy, and horror in all their media forms, and is a big advocate of fanfiction as a great tool for writers to polish their skills in a welcoming and supportive community. For free fiction, jokes, fandom reviews and more, check Natasha out at Tales With Tasha on YouTube. And if you enjoy your fiction on the naughtier side, have a look at Natasha's alter ego, Virginia Waytes her Sexy Stories Podcast and the eBooks that go with it. The Manor is an exclusive adult only club in the heart of the English countryside where supernatural beings live, work and play.

    Read more from Natasha Duncan Drake

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      Book preview

      Half of Everything - Natasha Duncan-Drake

      ​FANTASY & SCIENCE FICTION

      ​To Life Reborn – Author's Notes

      Dragons, who doesn't love dragons? That was my main motivation for this story. I started reading frequently, because I discovered fantasy when young and dragons have always had a special place in my heart. Even if my first sojourn into fantasy, other than good old fairy stories, was The Hobbit.

      Saying that, the funny thing really then is that dragons don't make a huge appearance in this story until the end, but they underlie the whole thing.

      Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the story.

      To Life Reborn

      DAYLIGHT WAS SOMETHING TREN HADN'T SEEN in several days. Hence, when he was dragged out of his cell into the yard, he was virtually blind and couldn't tell what was going on. He didn't think they were going to hang him, after all he'd only been caught stealing food. If it had been money or jewels, he would have been for the drop, but the High Sherriff didn't usually call for blood when hunger was the motivation. Unless of course they were having a spectacle hanging to entertain the masses; there were quite a few prisoners in the yard with him.

      He still couldn't work out what was going on even once he managed to convince his eyes to work. The prisoners had been moved into rows and an old woman with a bent back was walking between them as if they were on parade. Any who decided to say anything to her were being hit and dragged back inside. When it came to his turn Tren behaved, standing very still and remaining completely silent.

      As she looked at him, he realised her eyes were milky white. If he had seen her in the street, he would have assumed she was blind, but her gaze was far too sharp for that to be true. The way she stared at him made him incredibly uncomfortable, as if she was looking beyond his face and straight into his head.

      After several long seconds she turned to her companion and simply nodded. Tren found himself grabbed from behind by a guard, but instead of being dragged back to his cell, he was dragged in a completely different direction. He was thrown onto a covered cart, where he was joined shortly by four others before the flaps were tied so they couldn't see out and no one could see in.

      Where the hell are they taking us? one of his companions asked as they moved off.

      The reply from one of the other prisoners was not polite and Tren decided to stay well out of it. He sat back in his little corner of the cart and kept silent. Nothing interesting happened for quite some time.

      Out, someone said when they finally stopped.

      The flaps were drawn back and Tren followed the other four off the cart into another grey courtyard. The armed man waiting for them definitely wasn't a prison guard, his leather armour was of far too high a quality. However, the armour also had no distinguishing marks to give Tren a clue as to where he might be.

      Strip and wash, the man said with the whip of command and pointed at a pump a few feet to the left.

      That was the point where Tren decided he was unlikely to be about to be executed, because he was pretty sure executioners didn't really care how dirty their victims were. The four men in front of him seemed utterly confused by the order and so was Tren, but he moved to obey. There were wash cloths and soap by the pump and he stripped off his clothes and reached for them before pumping some water to wet the cloth. The others soon caught on.

      It wasn't as if he was attached to his clothes, since they stank of prison and filth, but that didn't mean he was overly pleased when another nameless person stole them.

      Through that door, was the next order when their main guard deemed them all clean enough, throwing towels at them the make the point.

      Tren dried quickly and wrapped the towel around his waist before going where he was directed. Being a thief, he appreciated the craftsmanship of the lock on the door they were pushed through. Wherever they were going was designed to be locked up tight.

      Inside, a woman in armour, not something you saw every day in the city, handed them each a plain smock and leggings. Tren pulled his on, glad to be covered again, and walked through the next door when it was opened. He really didn't expect there to be another room full of people waiting for them, all dressed in exactly the same manner. What really grabbed his attention, however, was the large pennant on the wall. It was gold cloth with a huge black and red dragon right in the centre.

      By all the gods, he whispered under his breath.

      The woman who had given him his clothes had followed them from the other room. She walked up on to the raised area beneath the pennant.

      Welcome to the Dragon Halls, she said, bringing the whole room to silence as she looked around, catching each of their gazes, one by one. You have all been passed by the Wise One and you are here to become Dragon Soldiers. I don't care who you were out there, in here you are petitioners and you will do everything you are told when you are told.

      She glared at them all to make sure they understood that.

      There are no penalties for disobeying, she said, which sounded a bit strange to Tren, you will simply be thrown out and taken back to where you came from.

      That at least was nicely straightforward, not that Tren ever wanted to go back to prison.

      Not all of you will become Dragon Soldiers, the woman continued to speak, some will leave or be removed, others will die of the change fever. If you're really lucky you might even be eaten by a dragon. This is not an easy road and the door is there for any who change their mind.

      Given the option of a dirty dark cell and the Dragon Halls, Tren knew he would be sticking around for a while.

      For the first few days you will be given instruction in everything dragon, the woman told them, which you will learn. On day five you will reach the point of no return. You will take the brand and begin the change. This is all you need to know, any questions?

      No one was stupid enough to put up their hands.

      ✽✽✽

      Tren's mind was still reeling several hours later after they had all been fed and shown to their barracks. Dragon Soldiers were the defence of the realm. Everyone knew they were not quite human and that not all candidates survived the training, but Tren had had no idea that some of them were prison conscripts. It was clear that he had a simple choice, try and become a Dragon Soldier or go back to his dark, dark hole and rot, but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with.

      He was a thief. He had always been a thief. With twelve siblings there was no way his parents could afford to keep him, so he'd found himself on the street with only a handful of summers under his belt. He had lived on his wits since and he was known in certain circles as a very good thief. The only reason he had been caught was because he'd been drunk and happened to steal some meat. Well half a pig actually. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

      Soldiering was really not his thing, but he couldn't think of a way out of it. The walls were very high and the locks very secure as well as being heavily patrolled. The fact that he had a bed, a warm blanket, food and clothes was making it look more appealing, but he didn't exactly fancy dying.

      It was also a mixed barracks, something several of the petitioners seemed to find unsettling. There were only six women among the seventeen men, but it was enough to agitate some. Tren just picked a bed and put his stuff on it. When a young blond woman finally decided on the one next to him, he did his best not to look interested. The last thing he needed was a connection to anyone, least of all anyone of the female persuasion.

      Hello.

      He almost grimaced when she spoke to him.

      Hello, he replied, not really wanting to a conversation, but unwilling to be outright unpleasant, because it never ended well for him.

      I'm Ilana, she said and smiled at him, what's your name.

      Tren, he replied.

      So how long have you wanted to be a Dragon Soldier?

      He did his best to keep a perfectly straight face.

      Oh, it was a recent thing, he told her, very recent.

      Really? Ilana asked. I've wanted to join for as long as I can remember. You have no idea how excited I was when I went to the choosing and the Wise One picked me.

      I was more shocked than excited, Tren said.

      There were no rules about not revealing where you had come from, but Tren really didn't want to broadcast his criminal background. If he was going to escape at some point, he needed everyone to be lulled into a false sense of security.

      I can imagine, Ilana said. I have been studying dragons since I was a girl, but I am sure there are all sorts of things they aren't allowed to explain outside the halls. Do you want to see?

      Before he could object, she had dropped her bag on her bed and was pulling out a huge journal. She flipped it open and showed him a beautiful picture of a huge blue dragon.

      This is a male valor, she said, walking over to show him more closely, see here I made notes about it.

      Tren just nodded and looked blankly at the words.

      I've made notes on everything, Ilana said, flipping through the book, you can borrow it if you like.

      Oh I can't, he blurted out before his brain caught up with his mouth, um ...

      Ilana looked at him confused.

      I don't mind, she said.

      He really didn't know what to say.

      No, he eventually decided he had to admit the truth, I can't...

      He waved at the words that meant nothing to him.

      Oh, oh, she said, blushing as she realised what he was trying to say, I'm so sorry, I didn't think.

      Tren just hoped she would finally shut up.

      Would you, Ilana asked hesitantly, would you like to learn? I could teach you to read if you like.

      Not a lot surprised Tren, not after living on the streets, but that did.

      You'd do that? he asked, honestly shocked.

      Yes, she replied, smiling again although a little more tentatively, it would be my pleasure.

      Reading and writing were something he had always thought about trying to learn, but he had never had the opportunity. The fact that a complete stranger was offering totally wrong footed him.

      Thank you, he finally said and Ilana's smile returned to a full blown one again.

      It was only later when she was babbling on to him about this kind of dragon and that kind of dragon he realised he'd somehow made a friend. It was perplexing.

      ✽✽✽

      It turned out there was a lot to learn about dragons. Tren spent his days learning more than he thought possible and his evenings learning how to read from Ilana. Never in a million years would he have thought he might start wanting to stick around, rather than being forced to, but he had to admit he was intrigued. He still didn't want to die, but his brain was soaking up the information like a sponge. It didn't sound like such a bad life.

      Tren had had no idea that dragons had a hierarchy and it was this hierarchy that denoted the hierarchy within the ranks of the humans who rode them. That was why it made no difference who you were outside the Dragon Halls, once you were a Dragon Soldier it was your dragon that counted.

      The lower ranking dragons would usually accept more than one rider, part bonding with a group of humans who took turns in riding it while all cared for it. The groups acted like a family type structure.

      However, the higher-ranking dragons would only bond with one rider at a time. Only when the rider died was another one chosen and the bond was a full bond, meaning rider and dragon were mentally connected at all times. One of their instructors, Kay, the woman from the first day, said it was a survival adaptation. Those at the top of the heap could not risk being less than in perfect synchronisation.

      Tren could not imagine what that must be like. However, for the first time in his life he began to wonder if there was a life for him outside the gutter. His existence had always been about survival and this was just a different kind of survival. Each evening he let Ilana witter on about all they were learning, just putting in the odd word here and there, but her enthusiasm was infectious.

      They lost six before they even reached day five. One was a lordling who could not handle being nobody and was sent back to his father still shouting and screaming about his position and how those in charge would regret it. Three decided they just couldn't do it, including one of the men who had come in with Tren. Two were thrown out because they continually failed the tests they were all given at the end of each day, and the last one was another of Tren's fellow convicts who was run through after trying to attack one of their instructors.

      On day five they were all taken to the teaching room as usual and, one by one, they were taken out. No one came back in, so Tren assumed they were being taken back to the barracks. When his name was called, he stood and walked to the front of the room. Ilana gave him a supportive smile as he walked by.

      He followed his escort, one of the other instructors called Gynal, down the empty corridor and down some stone stairs. When he walked into the room below, he almost fell over his own feet. He knew it was called a brand and all the instructors had shown them to their class, but he hadn't thought it was genuinely created by fire. The brands he had seen had been over the heart but hadn't looked like burns. However, there in front of him was a fire pit with irons in the fire.

      It only hurts for a few moments, his guide told him, but he didn't see how that was possible.

      On his left leg there was a burn scar from when he had been younger and not fast enough to run away from retribution. That had hurt for days and festered, almost costing him the leg.

      Hello, boy.

      He had been so focused on the fire that he had not even noticed that the Wise One was standing in the room. Her voice was as old and as gnarled as she seemed to be, but it was the kind of voice that was impossible to ignore.

      Wise One, he replied with a bow of his head.

      She laughed at him for that.

      Manners, she said, I like that. Where did you learn to be so courtly, boy?

      I observed, he replied.

      Sometimes he had to pretend to be what he was not, and he always watched those around him carefully.

      Are you ready to be more than you ever thought possible, boy? she asked him.

      It was a strange question, but it felt important, nevertheless. There was a heavy feeling in the room. It weighed on him like a physical force.

      Yes, he said, and it was hard to say.

      Good, she said, nodding to herself.

      Only then did Kay step forward from where she was standing beside the fire pit.

      Come forward, Kay said. Remove your shirt and take hold of these two posts.

      Tren could not say he really wanted to obey, his flight instinct was firing, but he found himself walking forward anyway. His shirt slipped over his head easily and he placed it on a table next to one of the posts. There were finger indents at just the right height in the posts and he gripped first one, then the other. It was only as he went to rearrange his grip that he realised he could not let go.

      He looked to Kay as she pulled one of the irons from the fire. He panicked. It was pure instinct and he tried desperately to pull away, but he was stuck.

      Calm yourself, she said, and the whip of command helped him a little.

      He managed to take one deep breath and then another and he closed his eyes. It took all his long practiced will power to force himself to hold still before opening his eyes again and looking at her.

      Do not move, Kay instructed meeting his gaze very directly. This will be unpleasant, but it will pass. Remember it will pass.

      He nodded and steeled himself.

      The brand was glowing white hot and he had to tear his eyes away from it. He fixed his gaze on the far wall, doing his best to take his mind somewhere else. He began to go over the reading lessons Ilana had been giving him and refused to think about what was going to occur. He was so focused he barely noticed Gynal coming up behind him.

      When the branding iron touched his skin, it was so much worse and yet better than he had expected at the same time. There was a blinding pain that made the whole world go white, causing his legs to give out. He might even have screamed he wasn't sure, but as the iron was taken away, he felt something else. It burned, but not like the fire, and it ran through him like a flash.

      Arms caught him as the enchantment on the posts let go and his grip released and he all but collapsed.

      Breathe, Gynal instructed him, just breathe.

      He did his best, but the pain in his chest made his lungs feel tight and the flash of something had made him all lightheaded. It took him a few moments to realise the pain of the brand was dimming far more quickly than it should have. He looked down rather stupidly at his chest to where the angry red skin was changing colour. As he watched, it went completely black and then the flesh just appeared to flake away. Underneath the black was the silvery, multicoloured dragon mark that looked like an oil sheen on water.

      Can you stand? Gynal asked him as he finally managed to bring his breathing under control.

      He nodded, unwilling to trust his voice, but managing to get his legs under him. He felt as if he had just run for his life and failed as his chest ached and his muscles shook. When Gynal left him to stand on his own feet he swayed somewhat, but he managed to stay upright.

      Well done, Lad, Kay said and smiled at him.

      At some point she had put the iron back in the fire. He was more than glad not to see it again.

      The worst is over, Gynal told him and then guided him towards another table.

      Lying on it were two large dragon scales and a knife.

      Take the knife, Kay told him as she went to stand on the other side of the table.

      It was only a small thing when he picked it up.

      Hold your left arm above this scale, Kay instructed, draw the blade across your wrist and then place your arm on the scale like this.

      She demonstrated so that the top of her wrist was flush with the top of the scale.

      Tren did not like tests of pain, but clearly Dragon Soldiers did, and he had gone far too far to stop now. The blade was very sharp and when he touched it to his skin, he barely had to push to draw blood. The moment his wrist touched the dragon scale it began to bend. It curled up like the plants he had seen in the marshes eating insects, only, in this, his wrist was the prey.

      At least that didn't hurt, well, not until the scale began to melt. It was nowhere near as painful as the brand, but it wasn't completely pleasant as his skin felt as if it was stretching in nasty ways. He put the knife down, not daring to touch the scale, but needing to grip the base of his forearm as the scale continued to change. It finally dawned on him that it seemed to be melding with his wrist.

      Kay pulled up the edge of her sleeve, revealing patternation around her wrist as Tren's began to settle into something similar.

      It makes you part dragon, she said as he waited for it to finish.

      Of course there was no respite even when it was done, because he had to do the same for the other wrist. It was worse knowing what was about to happen and he knew full well why this wasn't explained in detail. He also knew why they hadn't been given breakfast that morning; no doubt it would have been decorating the floor by now. By the time the second one was done he was feeling lightheaded all over again.

      The fact that he had just done something from which there was totally no way out and it might actually kill him also had a certain percentage of his attention. Although, that he wasn't dead already was a good start.

      Look at me, Lad, Gynal said as he swayed and blinked and tried to reassert his balance. Now I'll take you back to the barracks. There's food there and you must eat, then you must sleep, do you understand?

      He nodded even though his head felt completely woolly.

      You will have a mild fever when you wake up, the man continued to explain. It will last for days, but what you have to look for is if it gets worse. Tell one of us immediately if it does.

      He nodded again.

      The fact he managed to miss most of the trip back to the barracks wasn't really a surprise, but just how hungry he was when presented with food was. He ate what he suspected might have been half his body weight, noticed that Ilana arrived at some point and was doing the same thing before falling face first into his bunk. The pillow was lovely and cool.

      ✽✽✽

      Tren spent the next week feeling like he had a summer cold that would not quit. It made his body ache and half the time he was too hot while the other half he was too cold. It was annoying, but it wasn't all that bad. For others it was worse.

      Two died the first night, a man and a woman, both of whom never woke up from their first sleep. Another man died the next day and he was one of the few Tren had spoken to, his name had been Artar. Four more had started showing severe symptoms of fever and two had recovered, one had succumbed on day five and the other was still holding on.

      Both those who had gone through the more severe fever had changed physically. One of the men now had lizard eyes and the other had gained claws on one hand. They also both seemed much calmer than they had been, as if they had seen the other side of chaos and it had changed them. Both were now helping everyone else.

      They now only had lessons in the morning for those who were feeling up to it and Tren spent most of his time with Ilana as she continued to teach him to read. It was going to take a while before he was any good at it, but he was enjoying the task. Because they spent their time so close it was he who noticed Ilana was not herself on the eighth day after they had all taken the brand. She was trying to teach him more complicated words and she seemed to start forgetting herself in the middle of explaining something.

      Ilana, I think you should lie down, he said as she lost her place for the fourth time.

      When she looked at him, he could see fear in her eyes.

      Oh dear, she said in the gentle way she had about her, I don't feel well.

      She tried to stand up and simply fell. Tren caught her.

      Someone help, please, he called, doing his best to lower her to the bed.

      Having had the fever for so many days he was feeling weak himself and it was difficult not to drop her. One of the two men who had already survived, Tren thought his name was Lorn, came over immediately and helped him lie Ilana down.

      You don't look too good yourself, Lorn told him as he did his best to assist, maybe you should lie down.

      Tren didn't want to lie down when Ilana was clearly beginning to go through the worst of the fever, but when the healer arrived to check on her, the man urged him into his bunk. He stayed there until the man went away, having done everything possible for Ilana, and then he sat up and moved to the chair next to his friend. She was sleeping, but he slipped his fingers into hers and held on.

      You're not to die, he told her firmly. I have one real friend in this world and it's you, so you have to live.

      Ilana moved a little in her sleep, squeezing his hand in an unconscious gesture. It was good enough for him for now.

      He sat with Ilana all the afternoon and into the evening. When the others tried to urge him into bed he refused, but he could tell his fever was getting worse as well.

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