In her fifteenth year, she had lain in wait for Jonas and his men to commence their hunt, and followed them into the precarious mountain heights, careful not to be seen. The larger men carried great shields and axes, while others had two swords strapped to their hips. During her observation, she learned that these were the fire breakers and the slayers.
The most curious of the group were the ones bearing quarterstaffs—the trackers; the first contact with the dragons. Responsible for finding the nests and ensuring the adult dragons were not at home before they proceeded to prod and poke the large holes in the cliff face the beasts called home.
Of the three groups, the trackers had the shortest lifespan. If their information proved incorrect and an adult dragon remained in the nest as they attempted to lure the babies into the open, they suffered a horrific, fiery fate.
That knowledge struck Reecah hard. Poppa had been a tracker.
She knew only too well how dangerous the beasts were. According to Grammy, her mother, father, uncle, and Poppa were victims of the dragons. That knowledge did little to soften the brutality of how the men stabbed and cut apart the dragonlings. The horrific sight made Reecah sick.
Many were the nights afterward that sleep evaded her, haunted by the baby dragons’ pathetic squealing as they were put to the sword. There had to be a better way to deal with them.
After the hunting season was over, when not tending to Grammy, whose advanced age left her in failing health, Reecah spent her spare time training her body. The upside to Grammy’s condition was the fact that she could no longer keep track of Reecah’s movements.
Reecah snuck Poppa’s weapons from the old steamer trunk he kept them in and stashed them in a small cave not far behind the hut. Having no experience with weapons, she satisfied herself by running the trails and ridgelines with the same type of weapons she’d seen the hunters carry, strapped to her body or in her hands.
As the long summer days passed, her endurance increased to the point where she could run the treacherous route to the Summoning Stone and back four times without stopping—a route that used to take her and Poppa most of the morning to traverse one way. Many were the times when the tide precluded her ability to run that route. On those occasions, she found a way across what most people considered unnavigable terrain. If poor Grammy had found out about the extreme places Reecah found herself in, she would have had a stroke.
At eighteen, most of the boys no longer called her Reeky Reecah. In fact, they seemed uncomfortable speaking with her at all. Long lashes, full lips, captivating hazel eyes, long, brown hair kept in a tight braid, and a shapely physique separated her from the other girls in Fishmonger Bay. The boys who used to tease her mercilessly, suddenly became tongue-tied in her presence.
Reecah had filled out in so many ways due to her insatiable desire to become stronger, faster, and more agile than any of Jonas’ hunters. She took comfort in the fact she could sprint the entire way up the hill from Fishmonger Bay to the path leading to her and Grammy’s hut with Poppa’s quarterstaff in hand and his old sword and bow strapped across her back.
During those torturous training sessions, she often caught sight of curious villagers standing at the trailhead watching her. If they were there when she arrived at the bottom, she would smile at them, turn, and sprint back up—their presence motivating her to run even harder.
Along with her eighteenth birthday came the dawning of the new dragon mating season. Instead of following Jonas’ men into the mountain heights, she went on ahead and hid within crevices at various junctures she knew they had to pass to access the outlying dragon warrens. Once they made it to her position, she would slip away and take a more dangerous route, again beating the hunt to its destination. Reecah knew every nook and cranny on the mountainside for several leagues in any direction. Had Jonas asked, she could have saved his men days of needless hardship, but Jonas had it coming.
She secretly hoped to see the day the brute slipped up, promising herself to personally shake the claw of the dragon responsible for ending him. Though many men died during this year’s hunt, Jonas wasn’t one of them.
On one of the last expeditions, Reecah watched in horror as Jonas’ second eldest son was carried away by an irate mother dragon that had returned while Janor clung to the cliff face he was working.
With the mating season drawing to a close, Reecah skulked into her hut shortly after dark. At eighteen, she still feared Grammy’s wrath if she disobeyed the rules.
The hut lay in darkness. “Grammy?”
Grammy didn’t answer. Nor was there the usual aroma of food cooking.
Reecah pulled a thin stick from the kindling pile and stuck it into the ashes of the hearth. The residual heat of the embers sparked a flame to the end of the stick and she lit a nearby candle, looking toward Grammy’s loom. She wasn’t in her usual spot.
A faint wheeze came from the direction of Grammy’s pallet.
Reecah set the candleholder on the cabinet beside the bedside and knelt on one knee, feeling Grammy’s forehead with a dirty hand.
Grammy’s yellowed eyes flicked open, blinking several times. Her pale lips turned up at the corners. “My child. You made it back to me.”
Reecah’s face tingled, her inner senses warning her of something she refused to believe. Her eyes welled up. “Of course, Grammy. I always come back. You know that, silly.” She tried to smile past a trembling lower lip.
“Don’t be sad, child.” Grammy lifted a wrinkled hand, shaking more than usual, and ran her fingers along Reecah’s cheek. “You have such a pretty smile. You are as beautiful as your mother.” A tear dropped down Grammy’s aged face.
Reecah wiped it away, her voice cracking, “What’s wrong, Grammy?”
Grammy’s faint smile widened. “Please, my sweet child, do not cry for me. I have lived a good life and have known a love like no other.”
Reecah shook her head. “No Grammy, don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. You have to.”
“It’s time I joined Poppa. He’s been too long without me. There’s no telling what mischief he’s gotten himself into.”
Reecah could barely breathe, let alone talk. “You can’t leave me, Grammy. I can’t live without you.”
“Bless you, my child. Your cheerful presence all these years since Poppa left us has been a blessing. Your beautiful smile has given me the strength to last this long.” Her watery eyes studied Reecah’s face. “My flower bud. You’re stronger than you know. Prove to Jonas you’re a better hunter than the rest of his men put together.”
Reecah swallowed. All she could do was stare.
“Aye, sweet Reecah. Don’t you think for a moment that I didn’t know what you were up to. Running to the Summoning Stone and parading about with Poppa’s weapons.”
“You knew?”
“Grammy knows everything.”
Reecah spit out a wet laugh, even as her heart continued to break.
Grammy’s cold hands wrapped weakly around Reecah’s right hand. “You’re your mother’s child as much as she was Poppa’s. You’ve become everything I feared. I warned that rascal, but Poppa hadn’t the heart to set you right.”
Reecah’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“It’s okay, sweet child. It was me who was wrong. I should never have stopped Poppa from encouraging you to become the woman you are destined to become…despite my best efforts to deter you.”
“It’s okay. You did it to keep me from following in Momma’s footsteps. To protect me.”
“No, child. I did it to protect me.”
Reecah frowned.
“You’re all I have left of your mother. I couldn’t bear to lose you to those damned dragons. I’m sorry, Reecah. I was selfish.” A weak cough interrupted her train of thought. “I hope someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Reecah placed her other hand on top of Grammy’s and squeezed. “Don’t say things like that. There’s nothing to forgive. I love you.”
For the briefest of moments, Reecah feared she had passed, but when her eyes opened again, her voice came out stronger than before.
“Poppa gave you a special family heirloom the last time we saw him alive.”
Reecah’s eyes widened.
“Aye, child. Remember? Grammy knows.”
Reecah didn’t know what to say so she just nodded.
“That stone is special. Been in the family longer than legends are old.” She paused as if deciding whether she should say what was on her mind. “Your great-grandmother possessed the gift…You know what I’m speaking of?”
Reecah thought hard. “Magic?”
Grammy nodded. “It skipped me, but your great-aunt was touched by it. I’ve been watching for it in you, afraid to see it foster. By keeping you secluded, I have done you a disservice.” She broke into a fit of raspy gurgles, pain evident on her face.
Reecah used the corner of the blanket to dab at the spittle on Grammy’s lips.
“Fetch the gemstone for me.”
Reecah didn’t want to leave her, fearing the worst would happen before she returned from across the room, but she did as Grammy asked. Gathering the gemstone, she tried to hand it to Grammy, but the old woman shook her head.
“If you reach into the second drawer, you’ll find something I want you to have.”
Reecah frowned, placed the stone on top of the cabinet, and opened the drawer. Buried beneath a pile of old shifts, she located the same cloth wrapped package Grammy had her deliver to the witch years ago. She had no idea how it had come back. Turning it over in her hands, she marvelled anew at the weight of the small bundle.
“Open it.”
Reecah fumbled with the cloth folds until she managed to unweave the intricate bands and withdrew a pristine, leather-covered book, embossed in fancy gold script: Reecah’s Diary.
Reecah’s eyes bulged. She opened the book and flipped through hundreds of blank pages. Turning the book over, she noted a walnut-sized impression in the back cover.
Grammy’s smile was bigger than Reecah had seen in years.
“Take the gemstone and place it in the hole.”
Reecah’s brows knitted. She plucked the stone from the top of the cabinet and positioned it above the impression on the cover. Before she had a chance to place it, the stone jumped from her fingers, snapped against the cover and rotated, settling into the impression. A faint, crimson glow encircled the gemstone and winked out.
Reecah touched the gem but it held fast. “Wow,” she said, the word long and drawn out. “What’s it do?”
“That, my child, is part of your legacy.” A spasm clenched Grammy’s features.
Reecah wanted to ask what she meant but was put off by Grammy’s discomfort.
When the fit eased, Grammy’s glistening eyes locked on Reecah’s. “Before I go, I need you to promise me one thing.”
“Don’t say that, Grammy. Please,” Reecah whispered.
Grammy slipped a hand free of her grasp and stroked Reecah’s wet cheek. “You will always be my precious, little flower bud, just as you are forever Poppa’s poppet. Promise me you will…” Grammy choked on the fluid in her lungs but managed to say with a rasp, “Let your spirit soar.”
Reecah had no idea what that was supposed to mean but she nodded anyway, unable to speak.
Grammy’s eyes smiled of their own accord one last time before the life left them.
Reecah laid her head on Grammy’s chest—the light snuffed from her world.
Only Family
Reecah didn’t think she would ever get over Grammy’s death. The woman had been a cantankerous and brooding old lady, but looking back, Lizzy Draakvriend had done what she thought was needed to protect Reecah from her mother’s fate. Grammy had regretted her decision at the end but who was Reecah to gainsay her motives. On her deathbed, Grammy’s words had served as the catalyst to reawaken Reecah’s childhood dream.
The next day, Reecah buried Grammy beside Poppa at the end of the lane, overlooking the seaside. Returning to the silent cabin, she sat in front of Grammy’s loom, unable to figure out the scary machine. She felt like such a failure. Grammy had shown her many times how to work the wooden apparatus but Reecah was never one to concentrate on menial pursuits. Her mind had always been on fanciful notions of adventure.
In the flickering candlelight, she tried to thread the shuttle through the strands of wool Grammy had been working on. Applying the foot pedal, the loom leapt into action and right away it was obvious she hadn’t done it right.
She pushed the stool back and looked around the barren hut. Grammy and Poppa’s pallet lay under a heap of blankets. The sheets that had kept Grammy warm for as long as Reecah could remember. Her throat tightened. The thought of Grammy lying cold in the ground made her cry again.
She got up and walked to Grammy’s pallet, staring at the worn bedding through blurred eyes. She had walked over with the intention of making up the pallet—Grammy would have liked that. Standing there, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. The act felt so final.
Shaking with grief, her teary vision caught sight of the diary Grammy had given her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and held the book against her chest. It was the only nice thing she owned besides Poppa’s dragon carving.
She stumbled to her own blanket in the back corner and sat dejectedly with the diary in her lap. Grabbing her dragon, she stroked it between its wings like she did every time she felt sad.
With legs crossed, she rocked herself well into the night—long past the last candle sputtering out. Alone with her dragon, she welcomed the darkness.
By the time Reecah woke the next day, the sun blazed overhead. Biting her lower lip to keep her emotions in check; it promised to be one of those rare days Poppa had loved.
She boiled a pot of water and mixed in a bowl of oats. Sitting at the shabby dinner table, she couldn’t help feeling that life had abandoned her.
After breakfast, she grabbed her new journal and found Poppa’s old inkpot and quill. Prying the brittle cork free, she grimaced. The ink had become rock hard.
She searched the cabin for something else to use, but Grammy had never been one for lettering.
The temperature in the hut rose quickly, the atmosphere corresponding with the chirping and chattering of forest creatures enjoying the glorious weather outside.
Reecah changed out of her dirty clothes and searched out another white tunic—all her clothes basically the same. Grammy had made them.
Throwing the tunic over a thin shift, she laced up the front and pulled on a pair of green breeks. She grabbed her brown, hooded cloak from a wall peg near the door and went out to face the day.
Standing on the porch Poppa had built shortly before his death, she welcomed the sun on her face. It was a wonderful, late spring day. If only she knew what to do with herself.
Grammy’s death had sapped her spirit. Running around the mountainside didn’t interest her anymore. Unsure of how to proceed on her own, she decided she needed to swallow her misgivings and consult with someone in town. Perhaps she could take the next step in her evolution as a dragon hunter. After all, she wasn’t one to work the land like Grammy and Poppa. If she didn’t start earning a wage soon, she would starve to death.
Recalling her last foray into town and the confrontation with the Jonas boys, she retrieved Poppa’s weapons from the shallow cave behind the hut and strapped them to her back—Poppa’s sword belt too loose to hang around her waist
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually walked down the hill into Fishmonger Bay. It was past high noon by the time her black suede boots crunched across the gravel commons and stopped at its centre. Surveying the common area, she contemplated her options.
Several villagers, including the mountain of a man, recognized her and called out. She gave them an obligatory smile and, “Hello,” but her mind was elsewhere. She almost laughed out loud wh
en she spotted Jaxon Waverunner exit the warehouse, stare at her for a moment, and quickly disappear back inside.
She glanced at all the buildings surrounding the commons. Who would be the best person other than Jonas to teach her how to wield Poppa’s sword?
There was the old blacksmith in his shop behind the mercantile, but she had never really met him before. He was around Grammy’s age, so he probably wasn’t the best choice.
Her gaze took in the temple. The Father Cloth, perhaps? Clerics were known to be accomplished fighters.
She sighed. That was the price she paid for her seclusion. She had lost touch with everyone in the village after Poppa died. At the time, she had been more than fine with it, but now that she needed something, she was at a loss on who she could trust.
The only people she had dealt with in the last several years were the Jonas family and the witch. She shuddered thinking of the old crone. There was no way.
The warehouse door opened and Jonas Junior appeared at Jaxon’s side along with two girls around Reecah’s age. The young women looked like Jonas’ oldest daughters, but it had been such a long time since Reecah had last seen them. If she was correct, the older girl was Janice and the other was Jennah, the fraternal twin of Janor—the boy carried away by a dragon earlier in the spring.
Junior said something to the sisters. The young women glared at her and rolled their eyes.
Reecah swallowed her discomfort and started toward the temple, not knowing what she’d done to earn the girls’ ire.
She stood at the base of the temple’s stairs, contemplating whether to bother the Father Cloth and couldn’t help glancing at the lavender cabin set back against the cliff face. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose just thinking about its inhabitant.
Out of the corner of her eye, the Jonas children watched her, their arms folded. She would love to smack them silly.
She sighed. What was she even doing here? Nobody liked her. With Grammy gone, the village would probably thank her to continue walking south toward Thunderhead. She caught herself nodding at the notion. Why not? She had nothing to look forward to here but sad memories and loneliness.
Reecah's Flight Page 4