Restitution: (Golden Returns)

By C E Marshall

Restitution is the third book in the series that began with When Evil Calls. We now follow Chris and Mary’s struggle to be accepted among the Dragonia whom they have joined. As the accident that turned Mary into one of the Dragonia, and subsequently Chris followed, has made them the most powerful individuals seen for centuries there is resentment among those in government. We follow their battle to change society for the better, to overcome evil once more, and to raise their new children. Finally there is the attempt to return to Earth

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jan 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984592217

C E Marshall

Chris Marshall was born in London in 1947. Educated first at Kilburn Grammar School from 1958 to 1965 and then gained a BSC from St Andrews University in 1969..Employed first by Brooke Bond Liebig and then by Charing Cross Hospital Medical School where he obtained a PhD for research into gastric hormones, again from St Andrews University in 1979. It was immediately after gaining the PhD that the germ of the idea for a book took hold and the first version of Starstruck was completed in 1980 / 1981. Not finding a publisher it was put away for 25 years, until the manuscript was suddenly rediscovered in 2015. Extensively rewritten as technology had advanced so much (no mobile phone in original version) and now twice the original length it has now been published. Starstruck did not end the story, however and this book continues the adventures of those characters and introduces some new ones, all of which spawned a third book to follow this one, Wormhole. Married, and with two children from his first marriage, he has four grandchildren and also two step children, five step grandchildren and a step great grandson. Shortly after gaining the PhD Chris’ career took a sharp turn into computer programming which covered many computer languages, some of which have now gone out of use. Working for Charing Cross Hospital, then Vamp Health, the Royal London Dental Institute and finally for CeLSIUS (Centre for Longitudinal Studies and User Support) first at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine and finally at University College London. Chris enjoys reading, singing (was forty five years with the Royal Choral Society but now singing locally), gardening, and, when opportunity arises, travelling.

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Copyright © 2020 by C E Marshall.

ISBN:            Softcover                    978-1-9845-9222-4

                      eBook                         978-1-9845-9221-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 01/25/2020

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CONTENTS

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New Life

A Purpose Found

The House of the Golds

The Secrets of the Golds

A New Era Begins

Now to Work

Acceptance

Crowds

Helushka and Os-ke-ton-non

Freedom

New Birth

Returns and Farewells

Return Journey

New Life and Departures

Back to Earth

NEW LIFE

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Mary and I slept well that night, enclosed in each other’s arms, excited about what was to come, but also anxious about our place in the society we had joined. Mary’s change from human to Dragonia had been accidental, but mine had been deliberate. I didn’t want to grow old and die, leaving her alone for the many centuries she would live.

In dragon form, we were both brilliant gold in colour and far larger, and more intimidating, than any of the other Dragonia we had seen or met. Most of the population appeared in awe of us, while others were afraid. The golden dragons of old could be extremely cruel and ruthless. At one time, they had effectively enslaved the whole population.

The ancestors of the Dragonia had fled their original planet just before it had been destroyed when its sun went supernova. The survivors were scattered throughout the universe. Only two hundred Golds had come with the original refugees. These had nurtured the Dragonia as their numbers slowly grew. No new Golds had been born, and when the original Golds eventually died, their knowledge and unique powers died with them.

We had already discovered some of the unique powers bestowed upon the Golds—we could both see the secret tunnel through the mountains that no others could find without us. Now that we had decided to make new lives on Traymar, we were going to search the archives for the history of the Golds and see if there were hints about their special powers and how they used them. We would rather educate ourselves in what might be possible, than find out accidentally, and cause harm or offense to those who now offered us a home and positions of authority. We would not accept those positions unless we felt we were ready to do so and believed that the majority of the people would accept our leadership.

For the time being, nothing would change, yet everyone knew that our presence altered the balance of power; whether for better or worse, the jury was still out, and the people were afraid of us, for some reason.

Unable to return to Earth, Helushka and Os-ke-ton-non had gone to be with the people we had released from the shadow of the demon Vortroth. There, they felt the presence of old magic and were determined to learn more about it. We had left them there with a promise to return when we were settled to see how they were managing. We would also initiate contact between those people and the Dragonia so there would be no conflict or fear between them. First, though, Mary and I had to discover our new selves.

Then there was the egg. No one knew how long it would be before it hatched, if indeed it ever did hatch, as it was conceived before I became a Dragonia. Would it be pure Dragonia when it did hatch? Would it be able to change to human form? Would it emerge in human form? No one knew. Although the incubation chamber housed a large number of eggs, none had ever shown signs of life, except ours. The others were kept warm in hope. Every few days, our egg would emit keening noises. They did not stop until Mary and I had visited and placed our hands on it for several minutes. After each session, I felt different in some way I could not fathom. Mary was always very quiet for a few hours afterwards.

We had not yet been moved to the more appropriate dwelling that we had been promised. When I asked Tansur about it, he just said it was being prepared and would be ready soon. I had also noticed more Dragonia walking past our house, and some loitering. There was a sensation of being followed whenever we went out. Wherever we went, we were recognised, even in our human form, and the people would bow to us and get out of our way. Shopkeepers tried to thrust their goods on us without payment. We seemed to be regarded as royalty, yet we both felt the need to do something useful, to earn and deserve the people’s respect. It wasn’t right that because we were a different colour in our dragon form, we were treated differently.

We spent many hours in what we thought were the archives, researching the Golds of old. It was not encouraging. Most books recalled ruthless and cruel rulers before whom the people bowed and were cowed. A sentence here and there hinted at other, kinder Golds, but because these Golds won no battles nor made their presence felt, they were hidden in the background. We did find that the Golds had the longest lifespan of all Dragonia.

There must be something somewhere, I said to Mary after another day’s fruitless searching.

Perhaps we’re looking in the wrong place, she replied.

The archivist said that is where everything about the Golds is stored.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t something tucked away elsewhere.

That night, a crowd gathered outside our house. We wondered if we would have to make a quick change to dragon form and flee, as they seemed agitated. We watched anxiously as a woman holding a child was pushed to the front and up our steps. She stood there for a moment, seeming helpless and afraid. A man came from the crowd and joined her. Then there was a tentative knock at the door.

She seems frightened, said Mary. I think we should let her in.

No one else had approached the door, and I thought the crowd had drawn back a little. I agree, I said and went to open the door.

Please, help us, the woman said, bowing low. We don’t know what else to do; you are our only hope. She lifted the child she was carrying and handed him to Mary, who had come up behind me.

You’d both better come in and tell us more, Mary said gently while looking tenderly at the child in her arms. He looked about six years old and was asleep. As I looked closer, I could see something was wrong. His breathing was quite shallow.

Come in? the mother squeaked, taking a step backwards and almost knocking her husband down the steps.

Yes, said Mary. Come in and tell us why you think we can help, and how we can help.

Mary turned and took the child into the house. I pulled the door open fully to allow our visitors to enter.

We don’t bite, I said when they made no move. In fact, I added, we need some more friends, so we will help if we can.

They carefully made their way past me, bowing all the way, and followed Mary into a room at the back of the house.

Mary, still holding their child, sat on one of the cushions laid in the centre of the room. I joined her and beckoned our visitors to join us. Please, come sit down and tell us what you fear and what you want from us.

S-s-sit? stuttered the man while his wife went into a complete curtsy of obeisance. We can’t. It is forbidden.

I got to my feet again as Mary looked at me questioningly. I don’t understand, I said. You are our guests; we will feel uncomfortable if you stand while we are sitting.

We’ve read the books, said the man. It is forbidden to sit in the presence of Golds.

That was long ago, I mused, in a time when I believe many Golds were not pleasant, in either their human or dragon forms.

That is true, the woman said, looking at the floor and adding quickly, No offense to your ancestors; it’s just what the books say. We are unsure—there have been no Golds for so long.

You know that neither of us were born Dragonia? Mary asked. We do not know your customs or your history. Where we come from, as humans, guests do not stand in fear of their hosts.

Please sit, I said. Tell your story to Mary while I find some refreshments. I won’t be far away and will be able to hear everything you say.

I moved to the doorway and watched as the couple crept with some trepidation to the centre of the room. They sat carefully in front of Mary, but as far away from her as possible, considering the positions of the cushions. In fact, when I looked back, I was sure they had nudged those cushions a little farther from Mary than their original positions. I sighed. There was clearly more to this being a Gold dragon thing than either Mary or I had realised. I turned and went into the kitchen to prepare mugs of the tea-like brew that these people loved (and I was growing to like, as well). From my position, I could hear everything—another perk of being a Gold, apparently, although in some situations, it might be considered a curse; perhaps this was another attribute that we would have to learn to control.

Mary caressed the head of the sleeping child in her lap and asked, What is wrong with him? He just seems asleep. Why do you think we can help you?

The man and woman looked at each other and then at Mary in amazement. Eventually, the woman took a worried gulp and spoke softly. If you please, he is sick. He has been like this for twelve moons. He will drink if we put it to his lips, so we have kept him alive with liquid foods. Others— She paused, and a tear leaked from one eye. Her husband put a comforting arm around her. Have not been so lucky, she finished hurriedly. The apothecaries have nothing to help him. You are our only hope.

I’m sorry; I still don’t understand. Why do you think I can help? I have very little medical knowledge, and even that, I suspect, is only applicable to humans.

The two shifted uncomfortably where they sat. The woman suddenly, and to Mary’s alarm, buried her head in her husband’s chest and began to sob. Please don’t say you won’t help. The words came out slowly between heavy sobs.

I didn’t say we wouldn’t help, Mary said gently. I said we don’t know how to help, or why you think we can help. We have been Dragonia for only a few days; we are still trying to find ourselves. Perhaps you can help us? You think that because in dragon form, we are gold in colour, we are something special. We don’t feel special; at the moment, we feel lost and helpless. We don’t know where we fit in or if we will ever fit in. It frightens us. She stopped and looked hopefully at our guests, her eyes straying in a query to mine, as I entered the room with a tray of drinks.

It is forbidden … began the man.

I stopped him. It may have been forbidden in the past, but where we come from, guests do not refuse refreshment from their hosts. It puts everyone at ease. Relax. We would like you to be friends. We are more likely to offend your customs than you ours. They took the drinks and sipped cautiously, before looking at each other with beaming smiles.

It appears I’ve done something right, I said cheerfully, raising my mug towards Mary.

Mary smiled at me, before turning back to the couple. Tell us why, and how, you think we can help you.

Collecting his thoughts, the man first raised his mug towards me and said, The books say that if a Gold offered you a drink, you should drink with caution, as it would be bitter. You would have to finish it before they would grant you a favour. But this, he raised his mug again. This is perfect. Thank you.

It is the least we can do, said Mary. We have little else to offer. Now tell us what it is you believe we can do for you. But first, your names; I’m Mary and this is Chris. But I expect you know that?

The woman nodded. Your names are known to everyone. Many would come to you, but they are all afraid. I’m Abata, and my husband is Emulto.

Pleased to meet you, Mary and I said together. Kindly go on.

Gaining courage, the woman looked straight at us and said, The books say that the Golds could heal any affliction just by a simple touch. That is what we ask of you; just to touch and heal our child. We will be your slaves forever if you heal him.

I am touching him, said Mary, But I don’t feel I have done anything.

Do we have to be in dragon form to heal? I asked.

The books do not say, replied Emulto. I don’t think so. I believe the old Golds could heal whether in human or dragon form. There are pictures. He hesitated.

Go on, I said. I expect we are not going to like this. But don’t worry, I added quickly, as a look of horror crossed Abata’s face. You are telling us your history, something that was, not something that is.

The pictures show … Emulto stopped again and then took a deep breath. The pictures show long queues of people waiting for their turn for healing from a Gold. Always beside the Gold is a great pot filled with gold. By the time the last person has been healed, that pot is overflowing. You are Golds. Can you, will you heal our child?

Please, begged Abata, you may have what gold we have, and we will be your slaves forever, if you will just do this for us.

In the silence that followed, Mary looked at the child, wrapped so tightly in a cloak and nestling in her arms. It was hard to believe that there was anything wrong with him. She looked helplessly at me and said, I don’t know what to do. We could do more harm than good. She laid the child on a cushion in front of her, and we both stared at him thoughtfully.

Pictures floated through my mind. I looked at Mary and raised an eyebrow. We don’t know what we can do, she said to me. Perhaps we have the qualities of the Golds of old. We can only try. She turned to Abata and said, We are still discovering our gifts. We can promise you nothing, but we will try. Indicating the child Mary, continued, Will you undress him, please? I can’t see how you’ve wrapped him, and I feel I need to see more of him to be able to help you.

Abata crept to the cushion where Mary had placed the child.

What’s his name? asked Mary.

Chanto, Abata replied as she gently unwrapped the child and laid him back on the cushion.

We looked in horror at his little chest, completely covered with a sickly red rash. Mary knelt to take a closer look. If we were on Earth, she commented, I would say that this is a really bad case of measles.

Measles? queried Abata and Emulto together.

A childhood viral disease in human children, explained Mary. Unsightly, contagious, and unpleasant for the child. Most children recovered quickly. The numbers it killed were very few in the years before we left the Earth. But you say he’s been like this for a long time, and that’s not the same.

She leant forward as if to stroke the boy’s chest, pondering what to do. Just before her hand touched the child, there was a flash of blue light. A spark jumped between the boy and Mary. Mary jumped back, afraid she had killed Chanto. Before she returned to her seat and regained her composure, and before Abata and Emulto had recovered from the shock, Chanto opened his eyes. He looked straight at his mother and said, I had the strangest of dreams; there was this Gold dragon, and there aren’t any Gold dragons, are there?

Scooping Chanto into her arms, Abata turned him so that he could see both Mary and myself. Hugging him tightly, she told him, While you’ve been asleep, two Gold dragons have appeared among us.

Oh? Where are they? He looked around the room as if expecting a mighty beast to be there.

We’re here, Mary said softly. I hope I didn’t hurt you.

He hid within his mother’s arms. Emulto was staring first at his son and then at Mary, his mouth hung open in shock, and he was speechless.

I’m hungry, stated Chanto.

I’m not surprised. You’ve been asleep a long time, said his mother.

How long?

Twelve moons.

Twelve moons? I’ve missed my birthday and, and … What else have I missed?

We’ll tell you later, when we get you home. But first, let’s get you dressed. Look, Abata said to Mary. That rash has gone; you’ve healed him. We are your slaves forever.

No, I said. We are just so thrilled to have helped you and learnt something more about ourselves. Go home and be a family again. You owe us nothing.

But, protested Emulto, it is dire punishment not to pay a Gold for healing.

We all stood, Chanto too. Mary’s healing power must have been considerable for him to be able to stand and walk so soon. We made our way back towards the front door with some difficulty, as Abata and Emulto insisted on bowing to us at every step. Nothing we could say would make them stop. As we passed a door to a room with a picture window looking out to the front of the house, I saw a large crowd gathered outside. If they all wanted healing, this was going to be a problem.

I stopped before opening the door. There are lots of people out there, I said. Can you tell them that healing Chanto has made us quite tired? We can’t do any more today. If they come to the square tomorrow, we will try to help those in need.

I opened the door to let our guests out, but before they could escape, Mary took Abata in a hug and said, I’m so glad I could help. Come and visit us when Chanto has fully recovered.

The shocked look on Abata’s face was echoed on the faces of those outside, and by the gasps that came from the crowd. As Mary let Abata go, she briefly brushed Abata’s cheek. A small spark flashed between them.

Abata looked up at Mary with wonder this time. Thank you, she whispered, then vanished, with Emulto and Chanto, into the crowd at the bottom of our steps.

Moments later, they had all gone, except for one small boy, who looked up at us sadly and then started to slowly limp away. Something was clearly wrong with his legs. My immediate thought was that if we could heal, we shouldn’t let that child limp away. A brief look at Mary showed that she too was looking at the boy, and a tear threatened in one eye.

Wait, I called to the boy. He turned to look with both fear and hope in his eyes. Will you let us try to heal you?

Sadly, he shook his head and made to turn away, but Mary reached him before he took a single step.

You’re injured, she said. Let us help you.

He tried to pull away. You can’t help, he said. I’ve always been like this, and anyway, I can’t pay you.

Have we asked for payment? Mary asked gently. Wouldn’t you like to be whole?

The boy hung his head. I just want to be like the others, he said sadly.

Mary placed her hand on his shoulder. Come inside, she said. We can’t promise, but let us try.

The boy turned big blue eyes full of tears up at her. You won’t eat me? he asked.

Whatever gave you that idea?

They said I was too poor and insignificant for you to care about. They said children like me were fed as sacrifices to the Golds of old. Although heading for the house, his steps seemed reluctant. I thought at any moment that he would turn and run.

Mary snorted. We are not like the Golds in the books. We want to help people; we just haven’t found out exactly how we can do that yet. So let’s see if we can heal you.

Will it hurt?

I don’t know. But it didn’t seem to hurt Chanto or Abata just now.

Mary and the boy came to the door. I reached out to take his hand. As I touched it, a tingle went through me. In my mind, I saw the myriad of miss-attached tendons and the misshapen bones that went with them. There was something else: a hidden rage. I led them both into our back room and sat the boy on the cushions that had been occupied by Chanto bare minutes ago.

What’s your name? asked Mary.

Pinto, he replied.

Is that your real name? How old are you?

I’m two hundred moons, and Pinto is what everyone calls me. My real name is Gahadro.

A quick calculation put the boy at about fifteen Earth years, but he looked little more than ten. He had clearly suffered, was suffering.

Do I have to undress? he asked anxiously.

Not entirely, said Mary. But after my experience with Chanto and Abata, I believe our hands must touch you, so just take off your shirt.

It’s not just your legs, is it? I asked quietly. You have hidden anger.

It’s not always hidden, said Gahadro. When the pain is bad, I lose control. I throw things at people. I hurt so much, I just want others to hurt as well.

We understand, Mary said softly. Let us try to take all that away.

Gahadro took off his shirt and then asked, What happens now?

Just lie back on the cushions, close your eyes, and in your mind, ask to be made better. I’ll tell you when to open your eyes.

Moments later, he seemed to be asleep in front of us. I think this will take both of us, Mary said, taking charge. Place your hands beside mine on his chest, and then, just follow your instincts.

Together, we lowered our hands onto his chest. I thought of the mess of bone and muscle that I’d seen in the brief vision and tried to think them in their correct positions. I somehow just knew what these were. As I touched him, the tingling sensation in my fingers returned and intensified. I watched in fascination as first my hands and then Mary’s began glowing, until the room was filled with an intense blue light.

Beneath my hands, Gahadro gasped and twitched but did not pull away. I briefly moved my hands to his head. As suddenly as it had begun, the blue light faded, and the tingling sensation disappeared. Mary and I withdrew our hands from his body and looked down at Gahadro. Now he really seemed asleep and at peace; I hoped we hadn’t killed him. No, his chest was rising and falling with steady, even breaths; he was asleep.

Mary covered him with a blanket, and we sat back to wait. About half an hour later, his eyelids flickered, and his eyes opened. You didn’t eat me, were his first words, followed by, Oh! My legs don’t hurt anymore.

Take your time, I said. You’ve just woken, and we don’t know if we have succeeded. When you are ready, try to stand.

To our surprise, he sprang to his feet, bounced around the room, and then flung himself into Mary’s arms, saying, Thank you, thank you. And then it was my turn for a hug. I must go back to Mum, he said. Now the others can’t call me Pinto anymore. Just then, his excitement faded. But how can I pay you, he asked, and tears filled his eyes. A look of horror crossed his face. What have I done? he mumbled, hanging his head. I touched you without asking permission. You will be angry. You will kill me.

Mary took him in her arms once more. You have paid us, she said. With your smiles and your hugs. If you need more hugs, just come and see us. We are not like the Golds of your history. We are not angry that you touched us. In fact, we are happy that you felt that way. Now go back to your mother; she will be worried about you.

Not yet she won’t, Gahadro smiled. It would normally take me a long time to get home from here. Now I can use my legs properly, I might even be home before her. You’re really not angry?

Mary and I smiled at him and shook our heads. You have made us happy, she said gently.

You take care then, I called to him as he bounded down the steps into the street and rushed away.

I closed the door and went back to Mary. How do you feel? I asked.

Exhausted, she replied. Much more drained than after Chanto and Abata.

Me too, I replied. Looks like we have found our vocation here, but we will have to be careful. Seems like the greater the injury, the more power it takes from us to heal.

True, she said, sitting beside me and snuggling up close. We might be able to heal many small conditions in one session, but we’d better ration ourselves to one complicated case until we are more experienced. With that, she promptly fell asleep in my arms. I picked her up and tenderly carried her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed before kicking off my shoes and joining her.

The next morning, we prepared to go to the city square, but as we were about to leave, some instinct told me that walking might not be a good idea. I didn’t think we would be in any particular danger, but told Mary, I think we should fly. That way, we can see if there will be any problems before we get involved.

Mary agreed, and we went to the rear of the house to change, something we were getting quite adept at now and which no longer caused us a great deal of pain. Minutes later, we were in the air and gaining altitude, as we had agreed we’d first go high and view the scene before approaching the ground.

Mere specks in the sky, we hovered over the city square, or at least, we hovered over where that vast open space should have been. It seemed as if the whole population of the city and its surrounds had gathered there. If there was a space for us to land, I couldn’t see it. We circled and descended slowly. Someone looked up and pointed. The crowd tried to move to give us space to land, but it would have been impossible, given our inexperience, to be sure of landing without hurting someone. We turned and flew home.

Returned to our human form, we sat with our heads in our hands, not knowing what to do. We were awed that so many people had heard that we would go to the square that morning. Did they all want our help, or were most of them just curious? A frantic knocking at our door pulled us back to reality. When I opened the door, Tansur, Sylvana, and Androdo, the council leader, rushed through. Tansur slammed the door shut behind him before I could react. They all pushed into our lounge, where Mary rose in surprise to greet them.

This is an honour, she said to Androdo.

But he simply snapped at everyone, Sit. He then turned to Mary and asked, What happened yesterday, and why is everyone, and I mean everyone, gathered in the square? We saw you fly over and then fly off. That made the people really angry.

I was standing next to Mary, my arm protectively around her. We didn’t think we could land without hurting someone, I replied. Trampling a few people to death would hardly endear us to them. We came back to try to think of a way that wouldn’t get us mobbed. I now became conscious of a noise outside. A quick glance through the window revealed a crowd gathering.

You haven’t answered my question, stormed Androdo. What happened yesterday?

We somehow healed two children, Mary said quietly. The second took a lot out of us, so we know that we cannot heal everyone at once. When they left, we said we would be in the square today if they wanted to talk to us. We didn’t expect what happened. We don’t know what to do or what they want.

Which two children? Androdo demanded.

Well, there was one called Chanto, with his mother, Abata, and father, Emulto. Then, when the others left, there was this poor child they called Pinto; his real name is Gahadro. His legs and spine were deformed, and he was full of anger. Some power within us healed him, and he was able to run off. Oh, and I touched Abata as she left, and something happened to her; she was so pleased. But after Gahadro left, we were drained; very tired, Mary added, when our visitors didn’t seem to understand what she meant by drained. I fell asleep. Chris carried me to bed and fell asleep beside me. We didn’t wake until this morning. We tried to get to the square as we had promised. There were just too many people for it to be safe for us to land. We thought we would be mobbed, and perhaps unintentionally hurt, if we turned up in human form. We don’t want to let the people down, but we don’t know what to do, or what so many want.

"No wonder there are such crowds. Pinto was well known. You’d see him limping after others his own age, then sitting and crying because he couldn’t keep up. The others would turn and laugh at