by Resa Nelson
Startled, Frayka tried to reach through the gate, but her palms pressed against something solid where she expected to find empty space.
The wide stone step shuddered beneath her, and Frayka stepped off in surprise.
The shuddering stone took the shape of a man and stood before her. The rough rocky surface transformed to skin. The face that formed belonged to Wendill. “We already discussed this,” Wendill said. “This is not the time for you to return to the mortal world.”
Aghast, Frayka said, “You locked the Gate of Earth!”
Wendill’s voice remained calm. “I did.”
“You have no right to do that!” Frayka protested. “You can’t keep me from leaving.”
“Traveling isn’t safe.”
“I can travel,” Frayka said. “I’m a Northlander, and we’re far heartier than the brittle women of the Far East.”
“What about your unborn child?”
“My child is a Northlander and will be just as hearty as me. My child will be fine.” Frayka paced back and forth in front of Wendill, looking for a way past him in case the gate had the ability to open up on its own accord.
Wendill frowned. “You’re ignoring the safety of your own child.”
Frayka stopped and glared at him. “You’re not the father. What I do is my concern and none of yours.”
“When you’re in my realm, you’re my concern. I won’t let you risk the life of your child. It’s too dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous.” Frayka pulled herself up tall to argue more, but then doubled over in pain. She clutched at her stomach and cried out.
Wendill helped her ease onto the ground and then pressed his palms against her belly until Frayka felt the pain dissipate.
Now more frightened than angry, Frayka said, “What did you do?”
Wendill withdrew his hands and wiped them together as if rubbing away debris. “I felt a distress in your body. A tension that threatens you and the child. For now, I convinced it to leave you be.” He paused. “Are you willing to sacrifice your child for the sake of what you want?”
“I’m not willing to sacrifice anyone.”
“Then you must stay until the child is born,” Wendill said. “If you leave, the tension inside your body that threatens you and the child will return. If that happens, your child will die before it can be born.”
“You expect me to stay?”
“You said you’re willing to sacrifice no one,” Wendill said. “Therefore, the Gate of Earth will remain locked.”
For the first time, Frayka considered that Wendill might be right. The pain had grabbed her like wicked hands reaching for Frayka’s insides and twisting them into knots.
What would happen if that pain came back when I was walking in the middle of nowhere? What if Wendill is right? What if it kills my child?
“Fine,” Frayka said. “I’ll stay until the baby comes. But I can’t just sit and wait. You have to help me find the next dragon god. I have to convince that god to help me before it’s too late.”
Ignoring her demand, Wendill said, “Let me carry you back.”
Frayka snorted. “I’m not an invalid. I can walk. And I’m serious. If I’m going to stay in your realm, I have to convince another god to help me.”
When she struggled back onto her feet, Frayka’s knees buckled and she fell into Wendill’s waiting arms.
Nonetheless, she stood up and walked with Wendill back to his home.
CHAPTER 2
Seven months later, Frayka became aware of the dragon god calling to her.
“Frayka!” Wendill said. “Wake up!”
Frayka sat up with a start, her heart pounding with terror. Wide-eyed, she looked all around, expecting to see a monster.
“You were dreaming again,” Wendill said. “You had another nightmare.”
Gradually, Frayka regained her bearings. She sat between rows of vegetables of the garden she tended for Wendill. Based on the height of the sun, she estimated the time must be early afternoon.
Frayka’s belly now resembled a gigantic melon. Her back ached, and she felt like she needed to pee every few minutes. She craved peculiar foods like pickled carrots and acorns cooked in butter and honey.
Frayka wondered what her baby would look like. Would the baby favor her and have black hair, dark eyes, and skin that turned golden brown in the sun like others with Far Eastern blood? Or would the child share the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin of the father Njall?
The sting of loss made Frayka’s heart ache. She still didn’t know if Njall lived or had died. She focused on the task at hand. Missing Njall wouldn’t bring him back.
Frayka thought about what she told Wendill long ago. She wanted to find the rest of the dragon gods and make amends between them and the Northlander gods—but Frayka wasn’t willing to sacrifice anyone to do it.
I was wrong. Things are different now. I’ve lost too much time because I’m stuck here with Wendill until my child is born. I’m sure I’ve angered the Northlander gods with my delay.
I have to sacrifice searching for Njall for the sake of saving the lives of all other Northlanders.
Wendill nudged her and pointed at a row of freshly-dug holes in the ground. “Are these yours?”
The sight of the holes brought back the dream she’d just had.
Frayka remembered a dream where she planted impossible things in the garden that Wendill entrusted to her care. Chicken legs planted thigh-first leaving scrawny feet stuck in the air. Wooden hilts bearing fanciful designs—as if burying them would encourage swords and daggers to grow underground like carrots. In that dream, Frayka had used her flint to strike sparks that fell into neighboring holes and covered those sparks with dirt before they erupted into a crop of wildfires.
Frayka frowned. “I don’t remember digging those holes.”
Wendill knelt by Frayka’s side and took her hands in his, examined them for a moment, and then released her. “You’re covered in fresh dirt. You must have dug them in your sleep.”
Baffled, Frayka stared at her earth-caked arms and hands. “Why would I do such a thing?”
Wendill frowned. “I don’t know.”
Frayka reminded herself that dragon gods like Wendill weren’t all-knowing or all-powerful. They had the ability to manipulate their element. They could change their shape and look like dragons.
But they couldn’t read the dreams of mortals, much less understand them.
“If you feel up to it,” Wendill said, “I have a new task for you.”
A sense of foreboding crept over Frayka, and she cringed.
Wendill’s gaze changed from casual to penetrating, making Frayka feel closely scrutinized. “Is there a problem?” Wendill said.
A woman’s scream echoed in the back of Frayka’s head, and she assumed it to be a remnant of the nightmare she couldn’t remember. It was nothing like the portents she used to have. Frayka could trust a portent, because her portents always came true in one fashion or another. But the foreboding she sensed struck her as false and meaningless.
Will my portents ever come back to me? Do they know how much I miss them? Do they know how sorry I am that I rejected the last portent that tried to come to me?
“No problem,” Frayka said. She willed the foreboding away. The foreboding lingered for a moment but then dissipated. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me.” Wendill stood and then helped Frayka to her feet.
He led her to the slopes dotted with fruit trees. Harvested long ago, their leaves now turned orange and yellow. Soon the cold night air would turn them crisp and brown.
“This is what needs to happen.” Wendill removed an axe from beneath his belt. Without warning, he swung it and chopped off a spindly limb from the nearest tree.
Frayka cried out in shock and horror. “I thought you wanted me to care for everything in this garden. Not kill the trees!”
Wendill chuckled. “I’m not killing. I’m pruning. Look at all
the new growth on this tree. See these thin limbs and the way they crowd stronger limbs?”
Taking a good look at the tree, Frayka said, “Yes.” Although the tree looked fine to her at first glance, she began to look at it in terms of strong limbs and weak limbs.
Wendill swung the axe again and chopped off another thin limb. “These spindly limbs serve no real purpose. They will never become large enough to bear much fruit. And the fruit they bear will be small and insufficient. Therefore, these weak limbs do more harm than good.” He stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the tree trunk. “Removing them strengthens the tree.”
Unsure of what he meant, Frayka said, “How can cutting pieces of the tree away make it stronger?”
Wendill picked up a thin limb he’d cut off from the ground where it had landed. “Every insignificant part of the tree makes demands. It demands water. It demands nutrients from the soil. It demands light from the sun. And everything it demands takes away from the rest of the tree.”
At last, Frayka understood. “When you prune the tree, you get rid of those demands. You make it easier for the strong parts of the tree to get what they need. When you prune the tree, you make it stronger and better.”
Wendill handed the axe to her. “And now, that is what you need to do.”
* * *
Wendill returned to the burrows running beneath the mountains surrounding his garden and wound his way through the maze-like passages. As the dragon god of earth, he knew these burrows as well as he knew his own body. Wendill needed no light to illuminate the dark burrows, because he understood every corner of them so well. He gathered strength from the burrows. Walking through them cleared his head. It occurred to him that this would be a good time to check in with his favorite blacksmith.
When he reached the next fork, Wendill choose the burrow that led deep below the ground. Within a few steps, the air took on a chill. While he walked in the dark, he thought about Frayka.
During the past several months, Frayka had told Wendill how she and her husband Njall had been captured by royal guards as soon as they entered the Far East. How they’d been rescued by Frayka’s great-grandmother Madam Po and her merchant friend TeaTree. How Frayka had been captured by a Far Eastern man with his intent to make her his bride. How the Emperor Po had ruled against that man and sent Frayka to the Hall of Concubines for her own safety.
Frayka isn’t like most mortals. Despite her pig-headedness, she tries to understand. Despite her strong spirit, she works to adapt so she can protect herself and the ones she loves.
Frayka also told Wendill about the Empress Ti and how she sent Frayka away with Luan Lu to rescue her sister Ling from a serpent dragon.
Wendill had noticed a change in Frayka during the past few months. When she first arrived, Wendill noted Frayka’s extremes. On one hand, he found her to be outspoken and willful. On the other hand, he saw how her experience in the Far East had left her frightened for the safety of her missing husband and shaken by everything she had seen.
Frayka is a warrior who has come to a land where only men can be warriors. Simply being who she is puts her in danger. She must learn that the world is full of predators, and sometimes she will be the prey.
Frayka has to learn how to protect herself when she’s the prey while still holding onto her warrior spirit.
It won’t be easy.
The sound of ringing metal echoed in the distance.
Wendill smiled, making his way toward that sound.
Wendill continued his trek through the burrows snaking under the mountains toward the ringing sound of hammer against anvil. A short time later, he greeted the blacksmith who had forged a healing cage of gold and welded it inside Frayka’s body to protect her from the aftereffects of the bites of a serpent dragon. “Any response?” Wendill said.
The blacksmith rolled his eyes. “Nothing you’ll like.”
Refusing to lose hope, Wendill said, “Try me.”
With a reluctant sigh, the blacksmith used a pair of tongs to remove a rough blade, its heated color fading from orange to red, and return it to the heart of a fire burning bright in a long trench. He then led Wendill around to the opposite side of the fire and gestured to words made of smoke that hung in the air.
Leave Me Alone.
Wendill frowned. “Is that all she has to say?”
The blacksmith gave a hopeless shrug.
Wendill paced and looked at the words from a different angle as if that would make them change. “Did you send the message I gave you?”
“Word for word,” the blacksmith said.
“And she knows the message comes from me?”
The blacksmith nodded.
Wendill shook his head in dismay. “This makes no sense.” He paced again, this time stopping directly in front of the smoke words. He poked a finger at them.
In response, the smoke words twisted together, taking the shape of a small dragon that snapped at Wendill’s outstretched finger. Being made of smoke, the dragon’s bite had no effect.
In a dry voice, Wendill said to the smoke, “Very amusing.”
The smoke dissipated until only its acrid scent remained.
“Contact her again,” Wendill said, circling back around the trench with the blacksmith on his heels.
“But it’s the dragon goddess of fire,” the blacksmith said, “Everyone knows what she’s like. She won’t change her mind.”
Darkness flared in Wendill’s eyes, and his tone took an edge. “I’m the dragon god of earth. I say try again.”
Startled, the blacksmith bowed his head. “Duly noted. I’ll do my best.”
Taken aback by his own actions, Wendill relaxed. His eyes resumed their normal warmth.
The blacksmith stirred the fire and coaxed it to produce a rolling cloud of brown smoke. He tossed a handful of earth into its center, representing Wendill.
The earth created a hole in the center of the rolling brown smoke. Flakes of ash lifted from that center and formed more words.
I told you to leave me alone!
“Fiera!” Wendill shouted at the hole in the rolling smoke. “Have some respect for your fellow dragon god. Show yourself!”
The air above the fire shimmered, and the transparent image of a woman with pale skin and long black hair appeared. She wore a flame-colored gown encrusted with warm-colored gems that sparkled in the firelight. “I’m busy,” Fiera said. “What do you want?”
“The time has come to atone for what we did to the Northlanders,” Wendill said.
Fiera laughed. “You’ve gone soft, Wendill. Did you forget you’re a dragon god, not a mortal?”
“You know it’s the right thing to do,” Wendill said. “There’s a Northlander girl who met her gods—her true gods. They want us to make amends.”
The transparent image of Fiera picked some pieces of floating ash out of the air and used them to darken her eyelids. Once done, she looked at Wendill and appeared fierce with her blackened eyes. “I make amends to no one. And neither should you.”
“Some of the Northlanders survived,” Wendill said. “This girl was just a babe when her family took her to the Land of Ice.”
Fiera’s image straightened and looked at him with heightened interest. “Wendill! Have you fallen in love with a mortal?”
“It’s not like that. She reminds me of the good ones. I know you, Fiera. You believe it’s always a good thing to encourage the best of these mortals.”
Fiera’s image played with its hair, twisted it, and tied it into a knot on top of her head. “I can’t argue with that.” She stared at Wendill and held his gaze. “But any mortal who wants something from me has no business hiding behind you. If she wants my help, let her come and ask for it herself.” Fiera shook a finger at Wendill. “I mean it. Leave me alone!”
The transparent Fiera popped and exploded as if someone had lit volatile fumes on fire. White smoke filled the area.
When it cleared, Wendill stood alone by the dying fire.
> * * *
While Frayka chopped off all the weak limbs from every tree on the slopes surrounding Wendill’s garden, she thought about what he said when she voiced her gleaning that pruning the trees would make them stronger and better.
And now, that is what you need to do.
Clearly, he meant that Frayka needed to prune herself.
But I don’t have any extra limbs. There’s nothing to cut away.
If anything, too much had already been cut away from Frayka—Njall, GranGran, and TeaTree. Worst of all, the portents that had been her lifelong ally and companion had abandoned her.
Frayka’s arms ached, but she walked to the next tree and continued the pruning.
What if Wendill means there is another way to prune myself? Maybe the way I see the world. Or the way I see myself. Or the way I see myself in the world.
The one thing Frayka knew for sure was that she didn’t understand the world. It baffled her.
Why does the Far East act as if women don’t matter?
Reminded all too well by the heavy weight of her own belly, she worried about how to protect her child if that child turned out to be a girl.
What do I do? How do I keep from going mad?
Worn weary by the pruning, Frayka lowered her axe and let her body sink to the soft grass where she could lean her back against the tree. A new hunger gnawed at her, one that couldn’t be satiated by eating fruits or vegetables or even meat. The hunger rattled her bones and made her head ache.
She hungered for a world where all women and girls could be not only safe but respected for what they had to give to all mortals.
Frayka became so weary that she drifted off to sleep once more.
She dreamed of walking along mountain passes. Wispy clouds blocked the sun, and the breezy air chilled her skin. Blue-tinged mountains edged against a paler sky. The air smelled as fresh and clean as newly laundered clothes.
The sound of wood scratching against wood stopped Frayka in her tracks. It made her skin crawl. Looking back, she saw movement in the crags of the mountain, close to the path on which she walked. She reached for her dagger, but it wasn’t there.