by D. E. Morris
“Keep going,” Kenayde cheered, the others watching with charged anticipation. “Everything is perfectly all right,” she promised. She took several steps away from him as his clothing melted into his skin and became part of his scaled body. Kenayde resumed her transformation as well, keeping her eyes on her nephew the entire time. Together, they both grew in size, tails and wings springing forth as faces elongated into maws full of sharp teeth. The bulk of Kenayde's form was as long as two carriages in a line, but both her tail and her neck were at least double that. She unfurled her wings and bellowed into the sky as Lochalinn completed his transformation beside her. Compared to his aunt, he was smaller and awkward on his new feet. He tilted to one side, trying to get his bearing in this unfamiliar form, and flapped filmy wings that still had the down of a hatchling near the base. Though he was no bigger than a pony, when he fell over onto his side after over correcting himself, he made a great humph and sent up a cloud of dust from the dry ground.
All around the courtyard, onlookers were cheering for their prince. When he realized as much, he swung his head around to look at his family and saw them all grinning at him. Ashlynn wiped tears of joy from her face and beamed at her son. “Well done, heartling.”
He gathered his legs underneath his body and slowly pushed himself up, testing each leg before taking one step, then another, and another. Once he got the hang of it, excitement overtook him. As the cheering continued, he reared up on his hind legs and pawed the air, unfurling his wings. This only served in drawing more praise from those outside, and brought out onlookers from within the castle, Wessely included among them. Lochlainn brought his front legs down heavily and bounced like an excited puppy, working himself up so much that he snorted sparks and frightened himself. Lucien rolled on the ground in uncontrollable laughter as his best friend made a spectacle of himself. This prompted Lochlainn to pounce on him. Lucien crawled up the side of him and pushed Lochlainn over onto his side before jumping on his belly, still laughing. Wings beating helplessly against the ground, Lochlainn let out a high-pitched trumpet of protest and swatted at his friend.
As Kenayde shifted back into her human form, Cavalon pulled Lucien down and Ashlynn moved toward her son's head. “All right, I know this is all brand new and fun, but I think you need to be more in control of yourself before you and Lucien start wrestling. What if you accidentally caught him on fire?” His eyes widened and she nodded. “You have to be careful.” Gentle, she helped him roll back over onto his side so that he could stand upright once more. “How about you try shifting back now?” The bony ridges above his eyes lowered and he gave another little cry. With patience, Ashlynn took his head in her hands and held his indignant gaze. “I can understand your trumpeting well enough, but try telling me with your words.” He made the noise again, drawing a small smile from his mother. “No, my son. Tell me with your words. Use your mind. You know what telepathy is and how to use it. Think your thoughts just for me.”
He stared at her as though waiting for something to happen. When she gave no reaction, his brow ridges lowered once more. MOTHER!
She hissed and let go of him to hold her head, her eyes squeezing shut. “I heard you!” Whimpering, he took a step forward and nuzzled her elbow. “It's all right,” she told him, shaking her head to clear the pain away. “Goodness, I haven't had that sensation for a long time. Let's not yell again, hmm?”
Sorry, Mama.
There is nothing to be sorry for, Lochlainn. You're learning. That is why you should shift back. You're young and the feral pull will be strong until you can build up a tolerance.
But I want to fly!
And you will, but not for awhile yet. You must strengthen your resistance. The more you shift, the longer you will be able to be your draconic self before you feel the draw to stay shifted. It will come in time, and then you will fly. She kissed his snout. Shift now.
He sighed and lumbered back a few steps. As was normal for a first time shifter, the transition from dragon to human was much easier, given that it was a more familiar shape and one where the shifter knew how their body was supposed to feel. He shrank in size, wings and tail disappearing as fingers returned to normal and clothes covered his small body. When the change was complete, he looked at his hands, then looked at his mother with the biggest grin she'd seen from him in a long time. “I was a dragon.”
“Yes,” she replied, a smile on her own face, “you were.”
“You were a dragon!” Lucien hollered. “We'll be able to fly together!”
Lochlainn beamed at his friend. “We all will! Tiyal is a Gael, and so is Nagisa!”
“Nagisa will not be flying for quite some time,” Kenayde reminded the boys, humor on her face. “Someday, yes, but not for awhile yet.”
“Grandfather, did you see me?” Lochlainn asked, running over to Wessely. “I was a dragon!”
“And a fine looking one at that,” Wessely told him.
Lochlainn whipped his head around to return his attention to Lucien. “Let's go find my father and tell him!” Neither of them asked permission to go, only ran off together, plans for future airborne excursions already being made between them.
“It really is a shame those two don't get along,” Cavalon quipped, making the others chuckle.
“You both have fine young men on your hands,” said Badru. “You should be proud.”
Cavalon nodded. “That, we do.”
“I am just glad the boys have one another,: said Ashlynn. “If I didn't have Kenayde growing up, I don't know what I would have done. Lochlainn will need Lucien when he learns of what is to happen soon. For all of us who will be there for him, Lucien is the one who will be able to meet him where he needs the support most. He always has.”
A dark shadow passed across the group, making them all look up. “It is Gia,” said Kenayde, watching the dragon circling overhead. Everyone moved back to give the dragon space to land. She was bigger than Kenayde had been and needed a bit more room. Graceful in her decent, the others were confused to see only Killian jump down from her back. As soon as his feet were on the ground, Gianara's form began to shrink and the others hurried forward once more.
“Where are Lilia and Rowan?” Ashlynn asked as Killian bowed in greeting.
“They are with Prince Connor beginning their campaign for dragons and Gaels in Cieria, at your behest.”
She blinked, surprised. “I understood you to be going with them. Rowan is still so young, and...”
“I know.” Killian offered her a small, hesitant smile. “She is growing up. We cannot shield and shelter her forever. She will not let us. Besides, Connor is with her. He has shown his loyalty to her as his half-sister enough times to allow me to trust him with her.”
Ashlynn was unconvinced and nearly pouted. “I had hoped her adventurous spirit would temper itself enough so that a day like this would never come.”
“The world would not allow it. Injustice has been shown to her kin and it is not in her to sit back to let someone else seek a remedy.”
Smirking, Ashlynn fixed him with a humored gazed. “And for that trait, I blame you.”
“I gladly accept that responsibility, Your Majesty.”
Looking past him to where Gianara conversed with the others, she inclined her head in their direction before joining them. “It is good to see you again, Gianara.”
She gave a slight dip of her chin in acknowledgment. “I have been informed of what transpired in Caedia. How are your ladies?”
“Vala is completely fine, thank you for asking. Mairead will take some time.” She glanced at the half-elf's colorful mohawk. “I see your scales have changed in color again. Shifted, you could be Kenayde's sister.”
Badru's smile for the dark skinned woman was one of enchantment. “It is truly remarkable. In all my years and all my wanderings, I have yet to meet anyone of both elvish and Gaelic descent. Have you any brothers or sisters?”
Gianara shook her head. “I am the only result of the union between
my parents. I have half-siblings, but they are either elvish or Gaelic, none are mixed.” Never one for small talk, Gianara looked toward the castle. “Is Cailin here?”
“She is,” Wessely told her. “I passed her on the way out.”
Ashlynn lifted a brow in question. “Is everything all right?”
“We need to widen our web if we are to issue a call to arms for the remaining Keepers,” Gianara told her. “Given recent events, it is more important than ever that we know where each of us is stationed, the resources at our disposal, and the freedom with which we have to move and work. Cailin and Killian are both familiar with Ibays and Siness. They are here to keep you and your family safe, but they will need a network of people beneath them should a situation arise that is too complicated for them to handle.” Ashlynn opened her mouth to say something but Gianara continued as though she hadn't noticed. “Since you have chosen to remain here, out in the open, and keep Gaels in your employ and your company, it is imperative that the web of security around you is not only wide and strong, but also somewhat invisible.”
“She is not holding any of us prisoner,” Kenayde argued. “We are all here of our own accord.”
Gianara eyed the princess. “You feel confident in your safety here?”
Kenayde shifted on her feet but did not drop her gaze. “We are stronger when we are together.”
Gianara frowned. “You are more of a target when you are together. I do not say this to argue but to point out the truth. Perhaps you feel safer, but in reality, you are putting yourselves at a greater risk.”
“Cailin will not leave us,” Wessely said. “If that is your aim in speaking with her-”
“It is not,” Gianara assured. “I need to know of any Keepers she is aware of before I travel forth to Ibays, that is all.” She cast a sideways glance to Ashlynn with a slight curl to her lips. “I have been told those who are here will not leave often enough to accept it as truth. While Connor goes forth to Alybaen and Cieria, I will return to Ibays to find others sympathetic to the cause to recruit and to find others who once were part of it to help me relocate known dragons and Gaelic families to safer locations.”
Wessely extended a hand of invitation toward the castle. “I am certain Cailin will be more than happy to help.”
“Before I find her...” Gianara trailed off, looking down as she dug around in the pouch tied to her belt. Once she found what she was searching for, she pulled her hand free and looked to Cavalon. “You are the oldest of all of the Elementals, are you not?”
He crossed his arms as though preparing for a verbal sparring. “I am.”
“Have you seen one of these before?”
She placed a teardrop shaped jewel in his hands, blue with white and navy streaks running the length of it in ragged paths. It took up nearly the entire space of his palm. Confusion wrinkled his brow until he realized what he was holding. Golden eyes widened and he looked sharply to Gianara as the others closed in for a look. “Where did you find this?”
“Dragonspire. There is a cave beneath a waterfall that was partially filled in. The soil and mud that was used is littered with them, though most are broken.”
Kenayde touched the smooth surface of the jewel. “What is it?”
“That depends on who you ask.” Cavalon let her take the jewel for closer examination. “A long time ago, probably before the continents split, there were supposedly other kinds of dragons apart from the ones we know today. They were smaller, usually no bigger than house cats. People called them jewel dragons because their scales were multifaceted like cut jewels are. They were little more than overgrown lizards that could fly. They weren't that intelligent; they couldn't even use telepathy.”
“Yes,” Badru confirmed. “The rich kept them as pets, though most of them were as free as any other wild animal. Like most feral creatures, they lived in groups and had their own set of rules. They did, however, all answer to an alpha, one who was chosen by the species as a whole to not only take charge of them, but to also take care of them.”
Wessely looked from Badru to Cavalon. “What does this stone have to do with them?”
“The jewels,” Cavalon answered slowly, “are said to be the embryos of unborn jewel dragons.” Instantaneously, Kenayde dropped the stone with a look of disgust on her face. Cavalon scooped it up with a quiet chuckle. “Relax, princess. They're more than likely just pieces of agate. The threads of color lend to the theory and gave them the 'dragon vein' name, but I have a hard time believing this used to be an unborn dragon.”
Badru took the stone from him and turned it over in his weathered hand. “Another part of the legend says these gems can be absorbed by the human body, passing on certain traits of the jewel dragon, but it is a mysterious process, for the stones are said to choose whomever they wish to bestow their powers upon. It is even said that is how they choose their alpha.”
“I have heard of the jewel dragons as well,” Killian confirmed. All attention turned toward him and he nodded. “My knowledge is far less than what has already been shared, only that my brother and I used to believe they existed because our parents told us they did.” He gave a fleeting smile. “Of course, they also used to tell us that faeries were real and that ogres used to roam the lands.”
“They did.” Cavalon looked around at all the surprised faces. “I mean, we called them something different in my homelands, but they were ogre-kin.” Everyone still looked at him, making him raise his brows. “What?”
The sound of armored footfalls approaching made the group turn to see one of the guards coming up path toward them. As soon as he was close enough, he bowed to Ashlynn before speaking. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty, but there is a woman at the gate. She was caught trying to sneak in through a side entrance.”
Ashlynn's brows came together. “What was her aim?”
“I cannot say for certain, but my guess is that she is here to ask for help. She is in a great deal of distress, and there is blood all over her hands and her dress. She claims that several men came into her home unbidden and took her husband and children. She tried to stop them, but her attempt resulted in her injury.”
Killian didn't need to hear anymore. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he left the group to head for the gate. Ashlynn stayed where she was for the moment. “What are her injuries?”
“It seems her hands have been cut, but there was little else that could be seen just by looking at her.” The man frowned. “She is rather upset.”
“As would anyone be under the circumstances.” She glanced at her personal guards. “Find Prince Lochlainn and Prince Lucien, and bring them inside.” One of the men nodded and hastened away. “Everyone else inside as well until we have Killian's assessment of the situation.” Most everyone was compliant, turning for the open doorways into the castle, but when Cavalon noticed Ashlynn hesitating before moving in, he paused as well. She glanced at him when she sensed him standing beside her once more. “Do you think I am being over cautious?”
“Since the explosion in the market, I don't think there is such a thing.”
Long before Killian was close enough to the gate to see who stood on the other side of the portcullis, he could hear the wails of a woman loud and clear. One of the guards hurried forward to meet him, falling into stride beside him as they made their way closer to the gridded iron gate. “What have you learned?” asked Killian.
“Little. She won't be calmed. She just keeps crying and begging for help over and over. She's bleeding all over everything.”
“Did you send for a healer?”
The guard, a young man, gave him a look that was regretful. “I'll go find one right now.”
“See that you hurry.” Killian hardly paused as he reached the gatehouse. Another armored man opened the side door for him, letting Killian pass through without compromising castle security. As soon as he stepped out on the other side of the gate, the woman practically launched herself at him, clawing at his fine clothes with her b
loody hands.
“Help me!” she sobbed. “Please, you have the high queen's ear! They took my husband. They took my family. Help me.”
“I cannot help you until you calm down,” he told her, his voice even and gentle. With a firm grip on her shoulders, he held her away from him to get a good look at her. Wisps of black hair had escaped from under the tan cloth that covered her head, and her gray linen dress and apron were spotted in blood, likely from her hands. No other injury was apparent, but still he asked, “Where were you wounded?”
“My hands and my leg. Please! My family!”
Killian kept a hold on her and glanced down. Sure enough, there was a thin trail of blood running down the side of her worn shoes. “You must calm down,” he told her again, his voice firmer than before. “Sit here.” Leading her away from the gate, he helped her sit on the half wall that lined the path down to the village. “Tell me your name,” he coaxed.
“Cirilla. My family...”
“Tell me what happened to your family, Cirilla.”
The woman hiccuped on a sob and shook her head. She placed her hands in her lap, palms upward, and looked at the gashes in the tender skin that bled so freely. “I was cooking. My husband was inside trying to resole a pair of boots – that's his trade when we get poor crops – and my children were outside. Suddenly, I heard my daughter scream. Not like a normal scream, mind. She was right terrified. I could hear it in her voice.” She paused as the side door opened again, continuing only when an older man with a worn leather bag crouched before her to address her injuries. “Before I could even look out the door to see what was the matter, men in masks came busting in, each of them with one of my children in their grasp, daggers at their necks.”