Cracked Open: The Dragon Born Academy

by T L Christianson

  Resting my chin in my hand, I said, "Mmmm. Okay. I still don't see how this will tell me about Dragonborn society."

  She shook her head. "Listen. Contzel's mother was a Prime named Gude. Before our story started, Gude had been arranged to marry another Prime. He wasn't a nice man, and they had a rocky marriage. He died years later, but not before Gude gave birth to a son.

  "Anyhow, years went on, and when she was older in life, Gude met John—not a Prime but a good Dragonborn man. The two fell in love and were married. That should've been the end of it; they never planned on having children, and they both just wanted to live their little lives in their cottage. I mean, they were older, so Gude thought she'd gone through the change—you know, menopause. So, shortly after the two were married, Gude got sick, really sick. It went on for weeks until the two were beside themselves, fearing for her life.

  “Finally, as a last resort, the couple went to Gude's sister-in-law from her first marriage. This woman, Fye, was a widow with no children of her own and lived on the edge of the village. Gude and her former family did not like each other, so going to her was an absolute last resort. But Fye was a healer and could probably help.

  "Well, Fye knew exactly what was wrong with her ex-sister-in-law. However, the couple said or did something that angered the healer, and she sent them away… but not before suggesting that she had the perfect plant that would help ease Gude's sickness."

  "So, what was wrong with Gude? Did Fye know? Did she tell them?"

  Shaking her head, Taya spoke, "Fye knew that Gude was pregnant and no she didn't tell them, because she knew things that even John, Gude's second husband, didn't know. So, the couple went home, and Gude, suffering from terrible morning sickness, continued to throw up—even water. She'd become so weak that John was beside himself. So, in desperation, he snuck into Fye's garden and gathered the plant the healer had mentioned.

  "Well, of course, Fye caught him, and she made a deal with him. That if Gude had a baby, they would bring it to Fye. He laughed and agreed, thinking it impossible. He thought that his wife was dying, not pregnant. Unbeknownst to John, Gude had been raped shortly before she and John were married and had gone to Fye for help.

  "After that point, Fye began making food and remedies to help Gude feel better, and in time, it became apparent that Gude was pregnant. Fye bit her tongue and continued to look after her sister-in-law. But the pregnant woman was unaware that her husband had made a deal with the healer.

  "Then, early one morning, with Fye's help, Gude gave birth to a baby girl. When she fell asleep after a night of laboring, the healer demanded the child from John. John refused, but Fye was a Prime, and once Prime bonded, she held power over the man and his dragon and took the child.

  "Anyway, Fye named the child Contzel—which is probably where the name Rapunzel came from."

  I made a face, "Contzel? That's a horrible name."

  Taya shrugged one shoulder. "This was Europe during the middle ages. I'm sure there were worse names to be called." I nodded, and she continued, "Fye took the child away and raised her in the woods in an old abandoned castle. It lay in ruins and was overgrown by vines and vegetation.

  "But after a while, like it is with all headstrong girls, Contzel began to wander off. She became disrespectful and talked back—so basically, she was a teenager," laughed Taya. "Fye—the healer—locked Contzel in a tower and sealed it off just like in Rapunzel, with rocks and debris. The only way to get to the girl was by dragon."

  "Did she have a ritual or…?" I wondered aloud during a pause in her story.

  "I'm getting to it." She smiled then shook her head. "Usually riding a dragon takes training and a lot of time... I still can't believe that you rode Aaraeth… So, you just woke up one day and decided to ride your dragon?"

  I bit my lip. "I guess…?"

  Taya barked out a laugh. "You Primes! It's not fair."

  "So, what happened to Contzel? Did she get her dragon?"

  "Oh, yeah, no, she didn't. She was a lot like you. Fye had planned to perform the ritual on Contzel, but when the time came, she loved the beautiful child so much that she wanted to keep her to herself, so she locked her in the tower."

  A chill ran through me. Safe? Locked away from their dragon?

  My guard either ignored my introspection or didn't notice and continued on with the story. "Besides, she knew the girl could be a Prime because she knew who the real father was. So, the healer continued to bring her food until one day, Fye didn't show up. Then another, and another for several days. Contzel yelled and called for her guardian through her tower's open window, but the woman never showed. The girl wanted to escape, but she had no dragon of her own. Then, one day a man stumbled upon the tower."

  "Prince Charming…" I suggested.

  Taya smirked, "Not quite. The man, Claus, was a Prime from a distant village. He'd felt compelled to travel this direction, and drawn to the tower. When he flew up to Contzel, he was captivated by her beauty. At that moment, he pulled her onto his dragon and took her home."

  I pursed my lips. "What about Fye?"

  She sucked in a breath. "Fye? Nothing. No one knows."

  "But what about Contzel?" I demanded.

  "Well, he took the girl home, who was still pretty young, and the wise woman of his village performed the ritual on the girl—recognizing that she was Dragonborn." She hesitated before continuing. "Then, Claus and Contzel became bonded mates."

  I let that sink in, before asking, "So, happily ever after, after all?"

  She pursed her lips. "Well, for back then anyway."

  I fiddled with the book, flipping through pages and inspecting the drawings in the margins. The similarities of the story to my own life made me uneasy.

  "So, what was this supposed to teach me? That fairytales are true? Or…" I held my hands up.

  Taya let out an exasperated breath. "That people will go to great means to control a female Prime, like you."

  "Is this supposed to imply that my dad isn't my real dad also? Is this supposed to be me?" I asked defensively.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "This story has nothing to do with you. I thought you wanted to learn about Dragonborn Primes." Standing, she took the book from me and placed it back on the shelf. "News flash Sydney. Not everything is about you."

  I leaned back in my chair, feeling unduly reprimanded. "I'm just asking questions."

  "You are the one who jumped to those conclusions. And, yeah, another headline for you—everyone in your life has been telling you the same thing—this George Miller guy isn't your dad."

  I pressed my lips together and met her stare with a glower of my own. "Fine. Well, we'll find out when I see him, won't we?"

  A laugh burst from her lips. "You're kidding, right? Why do you think I'm here?"

  "For my protection."

  "To keep you safe from yourself. You're staying here until PL Lambert says you can leave."

  I glared at her. I was already coming to terms with my fate, but she didn't need to rub it in. I was trapped here.

  Taya's face seemed to soften as she looked at me. "Look, I'm sorry. That was harsh. But is it really so bad here?"

  I'd already been thinking the same thing, but I wasn't willing to give Taya the satisfaction, so I stayed silent, twisting my mother's ring on my finger.

  "Is there really someplace that is so much better than this? Especially when you're basically royalty here? Even if you hadn't been a Prime, you would've been treated differently, just being the PL's granddaughter. But you are special."

  I glanced up at her. "I'm not special. I hate that word. I hate when other people use that word. Not everyone is special. I'm ordinary, and I accept that, and I never pretended to be otherwise."

  Shaking her head, Taya glanced away, breathing out a laugh. "You aren't ordinary, and you'd better get used to the idea that people will always try to control you. If I were you, I'd try to figure out how to control them instead."

  Biting my lip, a
chill ran through me.

  Control them instead?

  With power comes responsibility, I reminded myself. A responsibility that I didn't want. Trying to control other Dragonborn sounded exhausting and tedious.

  That night I received an email from my grandmother that would keep me at the Academy for the next few months.

  She wrote: After speaking with you the other day, I found myself terribly sad by the situation you're in, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to make things right…

  Skimming the email, my grandmother went over several things I already knew from my weekly meetings with Dr. Weaver and even a few that I didn't. She filled me in on my dad's condition and current whereabouts. She confirmed Lori's information but went into more detail. George knew who he was, and his mind was intact.

  I filled in the blanks—if my dad had his wits about him and the recovery was just physical, then why hadn't he contacted me? Why hadn't he called, texted, or emailed me?

  This was just a reminder that he'd abandoned me.

  Meanwhile, my grandmother's email was warm and full of love on top of loads of information about my mother and the Dragonborn. My mother's birthday was November 22nd; My mother danced Ballet and played the piano and bit her nails. These little things showed me how little I really knew about the woman who gave me life.

  Elise, my grandmother, knew I was emailing Lori, and yet, she didn't care—she told me, "Soon enough, you'll figure out who George Miller is, I just don't want him to hurt you again."

  This gave me pause.

  Even though I wasn't convinced that 1. George wasn't my dad, and 2. He was this terrible person—I felt the decision to stay solidify in my mind. My grandmother was opening up a world that my father had kept from me, how could I leave?

  After all, he seemed as if he were doing fine without me.

  22

  Almost two months had gone by, and I'd settled into Balaur Academy.

  That lazy day in March, Olivia and I sat in my room studying for our midterms together. The snacks had run out, and my brain felt fried.

  Olivia suddenly barked out a loud laugh making my eyes dart to her.

  "You look as tired as I feel," she told me, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes.

  "Mmmm," I told her noncommittally. "I keep thinking about Ashe."

  She closed her textbook and tossed it onto the bed.

  I turned in my chair away from the desk to face my friend.

  "We haven't spoken in over three weeks… Do you think he'd go back to Lacy?"

  She cut me off. "Ashe? No. He's as loyal as they come."

  We sat there in companionable silence, too weary to move.

  "You still having those... sex dreams?" She asked, slapping the pillow beside her.

  I pursed my lips. I was, but I wasn't about to admit it.

  "I don't think people get what happened between us." Closing my laptop, I stood and began to pace the room.

  "Well, how's your dad doing? Has he emailed you lately?"

  Another sore subject. "Oh! That's a whole other can of worms. I'm an idiot."

  I shook my head, giving her a closed mouth smirk.

  "Why? What happened?" She leaned against the wall and crossed her legs at the ankle.

  "I just feel stupid. I've been so wrapped up in everything else here that I just took Lori at her word. I don't think my dad's been emailing me at all. I think it's been Lori." I blew out a worried breath. "I'm seriously worried about him now. I should be there, something's not right—this isn't adding up. Why wouldn't he write to me himself?"

  A compassionate expression crossed Olivia's face. "Don't blame yourself for any of this. You've told me repeatedly that he must have a reason for what he's done—and I'm on your side, I'd like to think that too. But what if there's not? What if he doesn't want to explain himself?"

  "That's pretty messed up," I told her.

  She pursed her lips and raised one shoulder.

  I twisted my mother's ring around my finger. My heart was heavy with all the questions. Maybe it was time to make him answer them whether he wanted to or not.

  "How do you know Lori is really writing the emails?" Liv raised her eyebrows at me.

  I shook my head. "I'm so stupid, I should've figured it out a long time ago. It’s the way the emails are written, with too much sentiment—too much sugary sweetness. My dad never writes bullshit like that. Never. He's always straight to the point, short and sweet. Besides, he calls me darling—not sweetheart. But the emails were nice—they made me feel... loved."

  Shaking her head, Olivia stared into my eyes. "Mmm, mmmm, you need to confront her. That's bullshit."

  I sucked in a breath as an idea sparked in my mind. "Maybe."

  Olivia stood and began to gather up her things. "I'm going to go grab a sandwich from downstairs, you want one?"

  "No, thanks." I smiled and watched as she left, closing the door behind her.

  Opening up my laptop, I wrote, 'Stop pretending to be my dad' in the subject line. A pang of emotion pricked my heart, but I pushed onward.

  * * *

  Lori,

  You know me pretty well, so then why have you been lying to me? I've been waiting for you to come clean, but now I'm out of patience and sick of the bullshit.

  Tell me the truth, what's going on with my dad?

  You owe me that. Is he dead? Braindead? What? Just tell me, because my imagination is driving me crazy with the worst scenario. Does he just not want to talk to me?

  I need to see what's going on for myself. My spring break starts this Saturday. Use my dad's credit card and buy me a plane ticket out of Spokane. I'm coming with or without your help.

  -Sydney

  * * *

  Checking the time, I waited.

  Staring at the inbox, I chewed my pencil, willing her to email me back.

  When no response came through after twenty minutes, I rubbed my temples and slapped the laptop closed.

  If my dad wouldn't or couldn't help me, then I'd get someone else to. Besides, my earlier escape attempt was super lame.

  What had I expected? What did I think was going to happen?

  Stupid.

  Not this time. I'd arrange for a ride-share or a taxi to pick me up near the highway. Dr. Weaver taught me techniques about how to fly Aaraeth, and I'd been practicing. But, apparently, it was taboo to ride your dragon in the courtyard.

  After pacing my room for several minutes, I couldn't help myself. I had to recheck my email.

  Meandering back to the computer, I opened the lid and typed in my password.

  Holding my breath, I braced myself for disappointment, but Lori had written back.

  Skimming the message quickly, I barked out an astonished laugh. "I'm going to New York, baby!"

  Remembering Taya, I glanced around the room, eyes wide. She'd gone for a run but could return at any moment.

  Smiling, I wrote Lori back.

  Yes, my grandmother knew. No, it was completely fine that I went to New York, and they would be glad for me to visit my dad.

  How would I get to the airport? I blew a raspberry. What would Lori want me to say? My aunt will take me, I typed back.

  For the record, I abhor lying. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

  I waited again, leaning back in my pillows and trying to spot the sticky glow-in-the-dark stars a previous student had placed on the ceiling.

  When my computer dinged with a new email, I shot up.

  Lori had booked me a round-trip flight that left Spokane Monday and returned the following Monday.

  I hadn't thought about the return ticket.

  Pacing the room, I flopped onto my bed.

  This was a no brainer? Right? I'd just stay in New York.

  But the thought wedged a lump in my throat.

  Did I want to come back here? To a place where I was a freak, and everyone knew my business and assholes called me names and gave me dirty looks?

  Okay, so that was jus
t Eton House.

  My mind drifted to all the friends I'd made so far—Olivia, Becca, Esther, and Mai. Olivia had become my best friend here. And it was so lovely to finally have a good friend. We'd cried to each other and laughed, and I told her some of my darkest secrets, and she knew about Stuff-tee, my stuffed lamb that I hid in my pillow.

  She never judged me, but smiled at him and said, "Awww, he's so cute. I've slept with my heart pillow since I came here."

  Could I leave her? Could I leave Ashe?

  If I didn't come back, what would he do?

  Later that week, I sat in the library, waiting for the printer to spit out my English paper. I'd gone generic and wrote about the use of society as a murder weapon in Anna Karenina.

  Sighing, I sagged as the machine spit out warm copies that ferocious hands would snatch up greedily.

  As it looked like a long queue, I settled against the printer desk and checked my phone.

  I had a message from Ashe.

  He'd been writing to me every few days, but our texts and emails had drifted into meaningless exchanges.

  We were weary of our situation, and the pain of separation had slowly turned into a background ache that I managed to ignore—most of the time.

  I'd come to find out from Dr. Weaver that there were four leading families of Dragonborn in the United States—the Lamberts, the Carricks, the Longs, and the Angevens. And these four groups were split into two main political parties—the Orthodox and the Elibera. The Angevens and Lamberts were Orthodox—Dragonborn who followed the old rules, kept a low profile, and basically flew below the radar of mundanes. The Elibera were mostly made up of the Carricks and the Longs and believed that Dragonborn had an obligation to use their gifts to better the world and openly mix with humans. More extreme Eliberas believed that Dragonborn should lead the world back like we used to do long ago.

  Each one was vying for leadership.

  I was the key... well, me and Biyu Long. Biyu was a thirty-something-year-old woman in San Francisco. She was married to another Prime and held a prestigious position in the Dragonborn community. She had two sons and a three-year-old daughter. No one knew if Biyu's girl child would be a Prime or not.