Legend's Awakening

by Jensine Odom

  I experimentally push and pull on the rubble, looking for weak spots, but it’s pretty packed in. There is one way we could clear it.

  Alarr, have Caedryn and Baldure come down here.

  They are already walking in the house. Sitrian is with them. She is injured.

  “Xerxia,” Caedryn calls from the front door, his voice echoing through the empty house, his worry crashing into me.

  “What happened?!” I ask, running to meet them.

  Baldure’s half carrying Sitrian, who’s bleeding profusely from a set of four gashes in her side.

  “It’s not as bad as it seems,” Sitrian tries to dismiss, but inhales sharply when she laughs.

  “Like hell it’s not! Baldure, hold her up.” I look at the big man, and he nods. “Caedryn, catch me if I fall.”

  “Always,” he vows, and steps closer, arms outstretched just in case I collapse.

  Sitrian closes her eyes against the pain and I lay my hand carefully on her side, releasing my healing magic. It feels stronger than before, rushing out like a flash flood, and when the wound in Sitrian’s side mends I barely get a pinch of pain.

  Sitrian smiles and looks at me, her face full of color once again. “Thank you, Xerxia.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, tell me what happened. That wound was dragon made.”

  “I was ambushed by a brood of beastlocked younglings,” she reports. “Their mother is badly wounded, with an arrow protruding from her eye, making her offspring aggressive towards anything that nears her. They’re on a hill between here and your destination.”

  “Shit! That’s my dragon!” I look at the ground, thinking.

  “I know you feel responsible for all dragonkind, but the beastlocked are not your wards,” Sitrian tries to assure me.

  “No. That’s my dragon. The day Caedryn found me, that Beast found me first, and I shot its eye out in an attempt to escape. There’s probably another arrow in her mouth somewhere. I didn’t think about—” I stop talking as tears spring to my eyes, and Caedryn comforts me in his arms.

  “You couldn’t have known,” Caedryn soothes, kissing the top of my head.

  I nod against his chest, steeling myself before stepping away to address everyone. “Let’s search the bunker, then we’ll deal with the beastlocked. Baldure, do you think you can just smash the rubble?” I gesture to the maul on his back.

  “I will see.” He nods and follows me back to the concrete pile. “I can try to clear the way,” he tells me after a moment’s consideration. “The house may collapse farther, though. Stay in the front room, Little One. It’s safer for you there.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but stop, knowing we have little time to waste. I agree and walk back to the living room with everyone else. There’s a booming sound from down the hall, like thunder from a near lightning strike, and the house shakes, but thankfully doesn’t fall.

  “It’s clear,” Baldure calls.

  Zebulon, Tristin, and me rush back, picking our way through the remaining rubble to get inside. Pulling out his handy solar powered light, Zebulon leads the way deeper underground. It’s definitely a bunker, but the back part of it has caved in, and the rest looks unstable.

  “We need to check this place quickly,” I tell my brothers, and they agree.

  There are the usual five-gallon buckets filled with dried foods, most of which we won’t use, and an impressive rack of big guns, complete with extra ammo. If only we found this place earlier. Like a year earlier.

  As it is, we don’t need the heavy machinery displayed, and move on, finally finding the things we do need. Jerky, and lots of it, ranging from store bought to home made.

  Like kids in a candy store, we stuff as much as possible into every inch of our bags and carry what doesn’t fit in our arms, moving to the living room so we can inspect the meats in the better light.

  We quickly look over every package, discarding any that are moldy, which surprisingly isn’t much, then pack up, splitting the jerkies evenly between all the bags.

  “Let’s get moving.” I toss my backpack on and sling my bow over a shoulder as I walk out the door. “Sitrian, which way are the dragons?”

  “Northeast from here,” she answers, concern flickering in her golden eyes. “Xerxia, there’s a high chance we can simply move around them undetected.”

  “No. I have to fix this,” I tell her, my tone brooking no further argument.

  Alarr’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs, falling in beside me as I lead the way back out onto the plains. The hill Sitrian spoke of sits off in the distance, just this side of the highway, with three dark figures moving about on top.

  Staying in the lowlands between rolling hills, we carefully make our way towards the Beasts. Cow carcasses litter the grasses as we get nearer, most of them picked clean by scavengers, their bleached bones scattered, and I have us stop in the shelter of the rise below the dragons.

  Shedding my backpack, bow, and quiver, I carefully crawl up the embankment to get an idea of what we’re dealing with. There are three younglings, varying in age and size. One’s not very big, about the size of Alarr, and is playing with the head of a cow like a cat with a ball.

  The other two larger ones patrol the top of the hill in circles, glaring at anything that moves, which includes the vultures and ravens gathering on the fresh killed cows that lay near the largest dragon. The mother I shot.

  She’s in pretty bad condition, breathing heavily in the center of the circle track her young are making. Aside from the arrow still sticking out of her eye, there’s a massive wound on her side, the flesh around it turning black, and a pool of darkened blood stains the ground around her.

  A quick breeze picks up, battering me with the combined stench of infected flesh and spilled entrails, and I make an involuntary noise as I try to hold my breath. The youngest dragon stops playing with its toy and lays flat behind the mother, its dappled golden-brown scales helping to hide it in sparse the grass. The other two snap their attention to me and charge before I can get down.

  Alarr, you need to get your ass up here now, I yell across our mental link, standing to my full height. Tell the others to swing around the back and restrain the two older Beasts. They are not to be killed! I feel his affirmation, and the energies clustered in my awareness move out, splitting up.

  Hoofbeats thunder up the hill behind me as I walk calmly towards the charging Beasts, my body turned slightly away from them. Alarr slides in beside me, kicking up dust and dead grass.

  Don’t cloak me yet, I tell him, continuing to move indirectly forward. I need to stay the bait until the others get here.

  As you wish, he replies, prancing anxiously as the young dragons keep advancing.

  My heart races as the two Beasts slow to a stop, confused by my brazenness, and I drop my head, watching them from the corner of my eye. The oldest one, a dusty gold color, roars loudly, and I fight the urge to run.

  “It’s alright,” I say, keeping my tone gentle. “I just want to help.”

  I glance up at the two younglings, willing them with all my might to understand. Then the gold one swipes at me angrily. Alarr throws up his shield, deflecting the sharp claws just before they hit me.

  Thanks, I say, flinching as the dragon hits the shield again, now joined by the other.

  Enraged and confused, the two younglings snap and slash at me to no avail, growing angrier by the second. The youngest dragon gives a frightened mewl, making the two older ones stop their attacks to face the new threat, but it’s too late. The cavalry has arrived.

  Ignoring the baby, or simply overlooking it, Sitrian and Caedryn come in first, each taking one of the younglings to break them up. Turhion and Kerric come in second, flanking them, and between the four Knights, they restrain the young Beasts.

  Baldure lands beside the youngest, now huddling tight against the mother, and manages to coax it out with soft, almost purring noises. Distracting it with the cow head, he gives me a nod, and I move for the mother.
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br />   Even though it’s being held down by Caedryn and Turhion, and seriously outnumbered, the golden youngling still tries to protect its mom, growling and straining against its captors as I walk by, pupils narrowing to stars.

  I stop by its head, looking it in the eye, and place a hand on its nose. “I’m going to help her,” I say softly, and hoping to at least impart some reassurance, I let my mind brush against the dragon’s.

  Unlike the smooth, collected minds of the Knights’ or Baldure’s, this Beast’s mind is erratic and untamed. Without that cognitive ability, it isn’t capable of blocking me and I slip in easily.

  With a surge of energy, the young dragon’s mind snaps together like a jigsaw puzzle, and its thoughts become cohesive.

  “What did you do?” Caedryn asks, more confused than curious.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head, pulling my mind back.

  The dragon isn’t straining anymore, and just lays there, pupils relaxed as it looks at me. When my mind pushes back in, the Beast makes the coherent decision to let me in, and pictures flash behind my eyes.

  “He asks that we don’t kill him and his sisters, and wishes us to try to save his mother,” I relay, and another set of images floods me. “She was attacked by another, larger dragon. A male. Her mate? Yes, and Baldure killed him, but only too late; he had turned on her already.”

  “I remember this male beastlocked we killed,” Baldure pipes up tossing the head for the baby to chase. “He had gone bestial. There’s no hope after they turn. What you have done is rare, Xerxia. We call it imprinting. Very few dragons can do it.” Baldure’s interrupted by the youngling bringing the head back, obviously enjoying its game of fetch, and Baldure leads it over to me. “Try it with this one.”

  The little Beast gives a plaintiff squeak when Baldure nudges it forward, making reassuring chuffing noises like a massive, scaly tiger.

  “It’s alright, little one,” I say lightly, turning my body a bit and dropping my head as I step closer.

  The dragon gives a little growl, too cute to actually scare me, and Baldure reprimands her with a short chuff. She lays down nervously, and I kneel at her head to make her feel better, holding out my hand like I would for a dog I didn’t know. A warm, sulfuric waft of air blasts my palm, and I dare to try to touch the little Beast.

  She’s surprised, but doesn’t pull away, and I gently let my mind touch hers. Being so young, her thoughts are more sporadic than her brother’s were, but they quickly become unified as I imprint with her.

  With a happy chirp, the little female presses her head into me, knocking me back with her weight as she lays against me. Caedryn’s unease surges into me, but I just laugh at the little dragon’s display of trust and affection.

  “Alright.” I pat the baby’s scaly nose. “I need to talk with your sister, then see if I can do anything about your mom.” I nod for Baldure to take her away.

  He gives a low, almost howling call and the youngling gets up with an excited chirp, running to join her new companion in their game of fetch. Getting to my feet, I dust myself off and walk to the last of the younglings.

  This one’s a burnished copper, like an old penny, and cowers slightly at my approach. With a nod to both Sitrian and Kerric, I lay a hand to the Beast’s cheek.

  Her mind is stronger, and rails against mine in panic; she would have been an Esper, I think, if she hadn’t become beastlocked. Gradually, I work my way in, eventually getting what I want, and her mind relaxes, as does her body.

  Now all that’s left is to fix my mistake. With the two older Beasts complacent and the youngest distracted, I carefully make my way to the mother. She’s not in any shape to do anything, but I don’t want to take that chance; rattlesnakes can still kill even if you cut the head off.

  Tristin waits for me beside the dragon, a hopeless look on his draconic face, the bright purple of his scales a stark contrast to the muted brown of the Beast’s. Her good eye is unfocused, her breathing labored and uneven. I signal Tristin to be ready, although I doubt she’ll do anything, and lay a hand to her cool cheek.

  Her mind is weak, barely a flicker of light in the dark like a candle drowning in its own wax, and I’m filled with anguish.

  You cannot heal this one, Xerxia, Alarr states gently, affirming what I already know, and my heart sinks.

  “I’m sorry,” I half whisper through my tears.

  Tristin’s beside me, in human form now, and holds out his bowie knife. My fingers curl around the mother-of-pearl handle, and with a breath I kneel beside the dragon’s throat, feeling with my other hand for her weak spot.

  With a decisive thrust, I end the Beast’s suffering, her body going limp as her hot blood pours over my hands and the mournful wails of her offspring drown out my own cries of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry for the role I played in your demise,” I barely whisper between sobs, laying my forehead against the dragon’s scaly cheek. “Be free; may we meet again in another life.”

  With a curious tingle that races through my body, the once solid surface beneath my head dissipates, my arrows clattering to the ground as the entirety of the dragon’s body turns into a shimmering bronze mist, like glitter in the air, and floats away on the soft breeze.

  The Cost of Our Actions

  Istand at the edge of the small canyon we’ve been following, staring out over the dry streambed while we take a short break, watching small eddies kick up the loose sand into short-lived wraiths that dance between light and shadows.

  We’ve inadvertently adopted the three younglings; they’ve been following us since our encounter. It makes us easily visible, but Baldure, and surprisingly Caedryn, convinced me to let them stay. Apparently, by imprinting with them, I have some semblance of command over them, kind of like an alpha, and they’ll do just about anything I ask.

  They have no names, or if they ever did, they’ve since forgotten them, the memories gone along with their humanity, so Caedryn has named the older female Stormwing, and Baldure named the male Irontooth; I named the youngest Petrie.

  Sitrian has decided to join us full time now and sits with everyone else among the bits of shade, tossing rocks for Petrie to chase. Stormwing and Irontooth lay in the sun just at the edge of the group, acting as giant, winged guard dogs.

  A large butterfly flits by, and Stormwing growls menacingly at it, but the insect is undeterred in its search for the bright pink cactus blooms that have begun to pop up. For the first time since ending the Beast’s suffering, I laugh, my heart lightening at how seriously the young dragons take their new job.

  The sound of my laughter catches Caedryn’s attention, and he smiles happily, walking over to join me.

  “I’m glad to see you happy once more,” he says, taking me in his arms and lightly kissing my head.

  I take a deep breath of the warm desert air and lean into him. “It feels good.”

  The butterfly makes a second pass, and Petrie chases it for a moment, until she smells the jerky Mary’s eating. Immediately distracted, she stops dead in her tracks and tries to steal the whole bag. Mary snatches it away with a speed I didn’t expect and reprimands Petrie, getting her to sit calmly before she gives her a small strip.

  “We’ll need to hunt more now,” I observe, watching as Stormwing and Irontooth perk up to see what their little sister’s getting and swarm Mary for their own treat. “And on that note, let’s get going. The mountains are close, and I can’t wait to be in the shade of the trees.” I over-dramatically pant.

  Caedryn laughs, giving me a quick kiss before walking back to the tree he was beneath, and I watch our rapidly growing group for another moment. Before I can join them, though, the ground rumbles, shaking a little.

  Caedryn looks back at me, worry creasing his brow as he meets my eyes. The dirt beneath my feet shifts, and I tumble backwards down the steep slope into the canyon below. I hit the sandy bottom and roll for a couple more yards, then just lay there, letting my heart rate return to normal as the last of the te
mblor dies out and my vision stops spinning.

  “Xerxia,” Caedryn calls, appearing at the rim of the canyon with everyone else. “Are you all right?”

  “And she sticks the landing!” I throw my hands up, laughing hysterically as I get to my feet and brush as much dust as I can off myself, getting my black leggings and tank top close to the color they were. “Any ideas on how I get out of here?” I look up the fifteen-foot sandy wall in front of me, hands on my hips.

  Unhelpfully, Petrie leaps down beside me, squeaking as she jumps easily back up and watches me expectantly.

  “That doesn’t work for me, kiddo,” I say regretfully.

  “It might,” Caedryn tells me, looking thoughtful. “You’re getting stronger every day.”

  I give him a dubious look. “And if I can’t get my fat ass to defy gravity for that long?”

  “I have another idea, if you can’t make it,” Caedryn assures me, the corner of his mouth turning up.

  I huff, just barely in the mood to deal with this right now, and take a few steps back to get a running start. A foot or two before the wall, I push off the silty ground as hard as I can. Surprisingly, I make it nearly to the top, slapping the dirt only a few feet below the edge before sliding back down.

  “And you failed,” Zebulon teases.

  I just glare at him and back up to try again, more determined now. The wall is sloped some. If I get a few steps up it before jumping, I can probably reach the top. With a breath, I make my next attempt.

  Without slowing, I run up the wall. The first two steps are met with harder sandstone, giving me some good grip, but the third and final step hits loose dirt, and my foot slips as I push off. I don’t make it up high enough, only managing to grab the edge of the rim, and slam hard into the wall, knocking the air out of me.

  As I struggle to breathe and pull myself up, the dirt beneath my fingers crumbles. Before I fall, something snakelike grabs my waist and I instinctively hold on, recognizing the silvery obsidian scales of Caedryn’s tail.

  Hoisting me over the edge, he sets me in the dirt beside him and shifts back, lifting me in his arms with a smile.