Riders of B E R K

Part 3: He isn't a weapon, he's my friend

"DRAGON?"

My voice was incredulous and I stared at the man lying in the bed, his brilliant green eyes completely and utterly honest as he held my gaze for a second more. Then he looked at the seagrass matted floor and his long hands clenched. I reached out and grasped the closest-his left- and tightened my grip around his in reassurance. Absently, I felt callous on his long fingers and realise with horror his hand had been broken recently as well. His words ran through my memory.

You should let me go. I'll get away from here and no one will connect you to me and you will be safe.

"As in...mythological beasts, DragonSlayer, the Hobbit, that sort of thing?"

"Yes-not a Komodo Dragon," he replied dryly. "Wings, flapping, fire breathing reptiles-exactly that sort of thing." I stared at him.

"You're a zoo keeper?" I accused him. He stared at me-then started laughing. It's a good sound, an open and pleasant laugh.

"If only," he said. Then he surprised me. "This is a secret. You can't tell anyone else. Look-I know you're a doctor or medic of some sort. You understand doctor-patient confidentiality. This must stay a secret. Please?" I nodded.

"Final year," I told him. He smirked.

"You're good," he complimented me. "Probably saved my life. Now let me tell why I'm here-and why you have to let me go." I scooted a little closer but didn't let his hand go. He smiled and closed his grasp on mine. "By the way, it was Astrid, wasn't it?"

"Astrid Hofferson," I confirmed. I didn't tell him the rest. I had a feeling it may freak him out.

"Divine strength," he murmured. "That's the Norse meaning."

"I'm named after a friend of my mother's," I revealed. "She's Norwegian. She's a physio somewhere in the Midlands." He smiled and his grip on my hands tightened for a second.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Hofferson," he said and I blushed.

"Sooo....dragons..." I said, trying to get my heart rate under control. He nodded.

"There have been legends for centuries about fire-breathing beasts, reptiles that possess amazing abilities," he said, his voice calm and clear. "But no one has ever found objective evidence of their existence-so far. No fossils. No indirect evidence. No genetic trace. And then, in the archives of the University of Leipzig, a much older-and totally disregarded-manuscript from Viking times spoke of a dragons' nest and this time, there was a map. There were also papers by someone called Bork who claimed to have studied the various dragons and gave valuable insights into their habits, abilities and life cycle. And he suggested that when times were harsh or 'unfavourable', they retreated and hibernated as eggs-until the world changed in their favour."

"Eggs? As in a nest?" I frowned. He nodded.

"The maps showed the dragons had buried their eggs a long way from human habitation as the world's climate changed for the worse and the land became more locked in ice. The nest was finally located on Kvitoya, one of the islands of Svalbard, far above the Arctic circle. Five years ago, a clutch of forty dragon eggs was found and taken into the custody of a British and European joint force. The eggs were taken to a secret research base in the wilds of Scotland and studied and hatched by a handpicked force dedicated to the study, preservation and training of the new dragons."