by Lola Ford
It was an exciting time for everyone in the country. All across the city of Roria, golden and navy banners hung from every window. Flowers laid in baskets waiting to be thrown into the air. The market bustled as the kingdom waited with bated breath to celebrate. As the girls wove their way to the palace, they discovered line after line nearly backed up to the lower district.
“This way!” Raana said as she pulled Nerie through streets she hadn’t even known existed. Raana had told Nerie the night before that she had a friend in the palace that said that he could get the girls inside to actually see the hatching.
As they made their way from crowded street to crowded street, Nerie felt lost. But Raana was confidently leading them from one turn to the next. When she brought Nerie to a small back door on the far side of the palace, Nerie held her breath anxiously. She’d never been inside the palace before. Not many commoners had, as it was only opened for the hatching ceremony and for coronations - neither of which had ever occurred in her lifetime.
Raana knocked sharply twice before a handsome young man with dark hair and dark eyes pulled it open. She leapt into his arms and started kissing him. Nerie was shocked, as she’d had no idea that her friend had such a friend.
“Raana! What would your mother say!” Nerie asked with a giggle, as Raana and the man separated.
Raana just rolled her eyes.
“I’m Zaid. And I intend to find out what her mother has to say as soon as I save up enough to ask for her hand in marriage,” Zaid said with a wink, then led them inside.
It turned out that the back door lead to the nearly sweltering kitchens. Zaid grabbed two aprons and handed them to the girls.
“I couldn’t just get you in for free. We need more hands than we have here in the kitchens today. Just for a while - we all want to be at the hatching too,” Zaid said apologetically.
Raana and Nerie spent the next few hours helping prepare for the feast that would follow the hatching. Nerie was tasked with folding bread while Raana started turning a boar over the fire. Nerie was a little annoyed that Raana hadn’t told her in advance - even with the apron she was getting flour on her new outfit. While the kitchen was crowded and hot, no one was rushing. The way the staff were acting, it seemed like there was a while yet to wait for the hatching to start.
After Nerie finished with the dough, she was dusted off and given a tray to carry to the front of the palace. She had no idea where she was going but was told that she just needed to head down the main corridor and that one of the servants was expecting her. As Nerie stepped out of the kitchen Raana shouted to her she would catch up in just a few minutes, that she was waiting for Zaid.
As she walked, Nerie felt incredibly self-conscious at first but calmed herself down thinking that she was lucky that the outfit her mother had bought was nice enough to pass for a royal servant. She walked slowly but with determination as she tried not to slosh the liquid around.
As Nerie approached a large set of double doors, one of the king’s personal servants came to her aid, taking the refreshments directly to a group of waiting nobles. Out the doors she could see that they had tents erected around the hatching grounds on one side, and the far side had tiered seating where commoners were already funneling in. She walked slowly towards the door, mesmerized by the scene in front of her. Between all the noble’s tents there was one that was clearly for the royal family.
They were sitting on a dais behind where two dragons were curled around an egg. The one that the hatching was all about. The one who would choose the future ruler of Situra. A bright green dragon rested on the roof above the dais, his head drooping down, watching his soon to be hatched sibling with keen interest. Nerie was glad the tray had been taken from her, for if it hadn’t been, she would have dropped it in surprise.
She had never actually seen a dragon before.
The three dragons looked like jewels in firelight, the midday sun causing them to glow as they shifted slightly. Everyone in the kingdom knew that Soros was the dark purple dragon and Eras was the bright fire orange dragon. That meant that the acidic green dragon must be King Soren’s dragon, Ilex.
The egg nestled between Soros and Eras was a pale yellow. Nerie stared at it with interest. She could already imagine the little dragonling clearly. She would be a creamy yellow like fresh turned butter, but as she aged, her scales would darken into the purest gold. Prince Aldis or Princess Astra would be more than lucky, Nerie thought wistfully. Soros looked over at Nerie, her purple eyes calm and deep. She blinked, and Nerie blinked in response.
A servant, rushing to do some unknown errand, collided with her and she was jolted back into reality. She needed to join the waiting crowd. So many people were already cramming themselves into the stands overlooking the dragons that at first Nerie hesitated. Then she thought about how long she had waited to see the little dragon hatch and shoved herself into the crowd. There was a railing surrounding the warm sands that the egg was nestled into, and Nerie shimmied her way around it so that she was directly opposite the royal family, and directly in front of the large egg.
Soros watched her for a moment longer but turned her attention to her bored son who had started huffing smoke rings above the crowded arena. A slight growl from Soros, and he was curled into a tight green ball. Nerie couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Twenty-one years old, and Ilex was still basically a hatchling himself.
Nerie’s eyes were drawn once again to the royal family, waiting on the dais patiently. They were known for keeping to themselves. As far as Nerie knew, they only left the palace for matters of diplomacy. She’d only seen King Soren a few times from afar on crowded streets, and Queen Alaena once when she’d been very small. Looking at them now, she saw that the king and queen were regal and poised, sitting on two thrones and watching the dragons themselves.
Nerie had never seen the prince or princess before. She looked at them while the crowd continued to shuffle in. The egg had begun to wobble slightly in the sand and the prince and princess were standing, waiting to walk forward when it hatched. Princess Astra looked to be nearly twenty, conceived directly after her father ascended to the throne. Her eyes were locked on the slowly rocking egg. Prince Aldis was younger, barely into his teens.
There had been rumors when Nerie was young that Queen Alaena could bear no more children for the king. She could remember the kingdom had celebrated when Aldis was born vaguely. She’d been about four years old and a kind woman had given her a bouquet of yellow roses, telling her that each petal was a year the prince would live.
As the egg rocked a little more fervently, a herald stepped forward, and started to recite the history of the ceremony to the crowd.
“Dragons have been extinct in the wild for generations. Our kingdom of Situra and the royal family of Therius give home to the last mated pair, Soros and Eras. It is clear in our history they first came to Situra during the Great War, and they pledged themselves to General Kyre, who became our first king. Shortly thereafter Soros and Eras laid their first egg, and the dragoness Wyla was hatched. She chose to Kyre, reaffirming his right to rule, and starting our tradition of the hatching ceremony.
Every twenty-one years since then, they have laid a single egg. An egg that determines the future of Situra, when our future king or queen is chosen by the young dragonling.”
The man took a deep breath before continuing, the crowd nearly silent as they listened.
“When King Soren Therius was chosen by the dragon Ilex, our kingdom celebrated for weeks on end. It has been twenty-one years since that day, and Soros and Eras have once again laid an egg. This time the hatchling will choose between Princess Astra and Prince Aldis.”
The stands had become even more crowded while the herald spoke, and Nerie was now shoved into the railing as people pushed in behind her. A sharp crack could be heard from the sand and screams of joy echoed from the crowd.
Astra and Aldis both stepped forward to greet the soon to be born hatchling.
As she e
merged from her shell Nerie couldn’t help but think, Oh I was right!
As pale as the roses from so long ago, with glistening wings of gossamer, the young dragoness stepped forth. She looked to be made of gauze, but her eyes shone of a strength of steel.
She raised her little head and looked Astra right in the eye. They stared at each other for a long moment before the little dragoness turned her head to look at Aldis. He didn’t even get to look her in the eyes before she had passed him over.
The hatchling seemed unwilling to choose between the prince and princess. She paced restlessly around the large enclosure, and as she neared Nerie, Nerie wanted with all her soul to reach out and touch the hatchling. The small dragon paused to looked at Soros and Eras before stalking farther away from the prince and princess.
She headed directly towards Nerie.
Nerie couldn’t look away from those golden eyes. She didn’t even realize how close the hatchling had gotten until she nudged Nerie’s hand that rested on the railing. There were screams and yells from the crowd, and someone shook Nerie - but she still couldn’t look away from the large golden eyes.
The king stood, pointing at Nerie, yelling for guards. Before she even knew what was happening, she was surrounded by guards, with the crowd being forcefully shoved away. The guards were demanding Nerie follow them, but she was still lost in the golden eyes, not able to focus on what was going on.
Kiriga hissed and scream in defiance that Nerie was being touched. All Nerie could think was that the dragonling was so tiny, and that she couldn’t look away from her.
The hilt of a sword collided with the back of her head, and the last thing she saw before darkness was Eras, his giant fire orange body surrounding her and the golden hatchling, roaring.
CHAPTER THREE
Graith
Graith blinked. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing. There was a dragon - a big dragon - inside his barn. A living, breathing, dragon. And it was watching him.
He took a step back, his heel colliding with the top of the ladder, and he glanced behind him. A fall from this height could kill him. That’s when he felt it - the tail had shot out and wound around his waist pulling him away from the edge.
Oh, good lord it was going to eat him! Graith, who had always considered himself a calm and cool-headed man, started screaming. A shriek really. He was being pulled nearer to a dragon. A dragon with long, sharp fangs, and talons large enough to pin him down. His eyes squeezed shut, and the screaming increased. He tried to run, but the tail held him firm.
When it released him, eyes still shut, he collapsed in a moaning pile on the ground. He knew what was coming, knew his life was about to end.
In fact, he felt warm seeping blood under his hands.
Had it already bitten into him and he was in shock and had not felt it? His hand slid in the hot slimy mess as he pulled it to himself frantically. He started patting his body all over, sure that there was a mortal wound somewhere. His eyes opened, and saw that no, his body was intact.
He glanced up and came eye to eye with the dragon. It had those sad eyes again, the same as he had seen the night before. It was watching him. Not attacking, not hunting, not even looking moderately interested in eating him.
Graith looked down again, and it hit him that the blood was not his. And there was a lot of it. His eyes followed the trail of blood and it led back to the dragon. It was pale, and the navy scales didn’t seem to glow upon themselves like they had in his dream.
The realization calmed Graith. It was obviously wounded, and not trying to eat him. Then why had it grabbed him? Was it worried he was going to fall?
That made little sense. It was a beast. Wasn’t it?
Those eyes however held an intelligence that he had noticed before. Maybe it had known he was in danger of falling.
He got to his feet and took a shaky but deep breath. He took a step towards the dragon. It watched him as he watched it. He took another. Again, nothing but watching. His stride lengthened, and he briskly walked to the dragon’s side.
With that much blood, the beast must be grievously wounded. He decided that since it had tried to help him, he would help it. He didn’t like to see animals in pain.
He’d had a horse break its leg, and had to put the beast down, for there was no way to set the leg and keep the horse healthy while it healed. But other animals, they got minor injuries and he always took the time to heal them to the best of his ability. This would be no different.
The dragon had simply watched as he approached and when he reached out and felt along its hard body, it rolled allowing him to look. He sighed in relief when he found the sources of the blood. It was three smaller wounds, each slowly bleeding, but not life threatening. The first was a long shallow cut along the inside of the dragon’s front right leg along the seams of softer protected skin-like scales. The second - the tip of the dragon’s tail was cut off. It looked as if an axe had been used, for it was a clean cut and even. The remaining tip of the tail was quite wide.
The third injury seemed to be the most dangerous. The gossamer fabric of the left wing was in tatters. Punctured by arrows, and perhaps cut by a sword, there was no way the dragon could fly.
Feeling distraught even looking at the creature’s wing, Graith muttered, “Oh dear, oh dear. I’ll be right back. We’ll get this taken care of.”
Moving away from the dragon, Graith quickly moved back to the ladder and shimmied his way down as quickly as he could without falling. Reaching the bottom and looking around, Graith swore. He had nothing in the barn to treat the animal.
He glanced back up at the loft and shouted, “I’ll be right back!” before running as fast as he could back to his home. He cursed himself for building the barn so far away but didn’t dare stop to catch his breath until he had reached his small home.
Rushing inside he immediately grabbed clean linens, his sewing kit, and a pair of large kitchen shears. He also thought to grab a bucket for water. He had another pump near the barn to fill it. Shoving his supplies in the bucket, he glanced around, thinking as quickly as he could about what else he might need for the dragon. His eyes alighted on the leftovers of his previous night’s dinner and thought that the dragon might be hungry. However, he thought if it was like other injured animals, the dragon would not want to eat, and it could be dangerous for it to eat so soon after being injured.
What else did he need? Again, he looked around the room, this time his gaze landed on the spare belt he had. The tail! He wouldn’t be able to sew that injury shut, but a belt would make a good tourniquet. He grabbed it, threw it in with the supplies, and decided he had everything he would need.
He hurried back outside, grabbed the reigned halter of his horse, and quickly mounted bareback. It would be much quicker to ride back to the barn, and if need be back to the house a second time.
Urging the horse into a quick trot he headed back to the barn. Upon his arrival, he tried to bring the horse inside to its stall, but in abject terror the creature screamed and reared away from the door. Graith didn’t blame it, as he had felt the same way when the tail had pulled him.
Leading the horse to the shaded side of the barn, he tethered the animal to the water pump. He then went inside. He would be unable to climb up and down the ladder with his bucket in his hands. He took the belt, and looped it through the handle of the bucket, and then fastened it in a wide loop, slipping it over his shoulder.
The bucket bumped against his buttocks as he climbed. Reaching the top, he made his way back over to the dragon. Its eyes had been closed when he had crested the top of the ladder, but as he approached the nearest eye opened, saw Graith and closed again. It looked paler than it had before, though it could have been the barn was now well illuminated from the open door. However, it was not illuminated enough for Graith, not for what he was about to do. He fully opened the nearest window to allow more light to spill directly onto the beast. It was much paler now, he saw.
He went to work.
“Ahh you’ll be alright, I know you will. A beauty such as yourself must live. Ol’ Graith’s got this, just let me do my work.”
The dragon panted and Graith took one of the sheets and cleaned the wound. The blood there had started to coagulate, but there was dirt and muck in it.
“This’ll hurt little one,” Did he just call a dragon little one? “but it’ll be over quick.”
Pulling his sewing kit out, he quickly threaded the needle, and went to work stitching up the injury. Long minutes went by, with the dragon shuddering in pain occasionally, Graith leaning along its hard belly to support himself as he sewed the awkward injury.
“There, there. That part is all over now,” Graith told the giant. It opened its eyes and inspected the injury. Now the hard part. Graith cleared his throat.
“I uh, hope you can understand me. You seem to have an intelligence about you,” he said.
His throat went dry when he heard, not with his ears, but in his head, Yes, I understand you.
It was an alien sounding voice. Feminine, and wholly inhuman.
That was unnerving, but Graith continued after clearing his throat again, “I - well, I need to sew your wing. It - well it's going to be painful, and I - uh, need you on the first floor. I need to be able to clean it as I go, and I can’t carry a full bucket of water up here.”
The dragon studied him for a long moment, then the voice sounded in his head again. Of course, Graith.
Before she, for after speaking he knew it was a she, lifted her large body, and being careful of her arm and wing, hopped to the first floor. Graith scrambled down the ladder, rushing to follow the creature, the handle of the bucket roughly digging into his arm. He sat the bucket down, emptied it, and ran out to the pump to fill it with water.