Legend's Awakening

by Jensine Odom

  “Wait! What’s your name?”

  You may call me Epona, my dear, she replies, a tiny hint of animosity in her voice.

  Apparently, she’s not so crazy about me either. Oh well. I guess even draquus aren’t above the pitfalls of things like prejudice. She’ll come around, though. So will Sylaena.

  “So, you don’t want your own pair of wings?” I ask Zebulon, turning from Sylaena and Epona.

  “No,” he says, as if he’s still not really sure why, either, then shrugs. “If I ever want to fly, I can ride Tristin.” Zebulon pats his younger but taller brother on the back. “And if I ever change my mind, Alarr can make me a dragon.”

  “You can?!” I turn to my own draquus.

  Yes, he agrees, his excitement barely contained. Epona taught me how. I did it unknowingly when we saved Tristin, but now I can control it.

  “Oh yeah! I almost forgot,” Zebulon yells, and gives a short, high pitched whistle. “There’s one more surprise.”

  A mischievous grin takes over Zebulon’s face just as a strange yip sounds across the clearing, almost like a fox that someone autotuned a little too much. A moment later, something flies right into my chest, knocking me to the ground with the impact. It’s small, with patches of bright red fur and black scales, and two miniature sized dragon wings along its back.

  “This is Volpe,” Zebulon introduces me to the creature, picking it up off my chest, and I find it’s a small fox-dragon. Two short horns, like a goat’s, sit atop its head, and its eyes gleam bright gold. “We found him in an old hunters trap, half alive with his leg mangled. Madelaine wouldn’t let us put him out of his misery, so Epona showed Alarr how to make things that aren’t dragons into dragons, or dragonkin, in Volpe’s case.”

  “We’re calling him a drox,” Tristin inputs.

  “It’s so cute,” I squeal, scruffing up the fur between Volpe’s horns, and a jolt of electricity runs between us.

  The little drox yips again, wiggling free of Zebulon’s grip, and runs around my feet a few times, then flies up to lick my face before zooming back out of the clearing.

  “I think he likes you,” Zebulon laughs.

  “I think I imprinted with him,” I return. “I didn’t even mean to.”

  “Imprinting can go both ways, Xerxia,” Baldure assures me. “The little creature must be drawn to you.”

  “See, he likes you,” Zebulon repeats.

  Volpe returns suddenly, something furry caught in his jaws, and drops the body of a freshly killed squirrel at my feet, then stares expectantly at me. When I don’t do anything right away, he nudges it closer, tilting his head with a whine.

  “Yeah, he likes you,” Zebulon laughs again.

  “Thanks,” I say dryly, and smile, taking the offering in hopes that’ll appease the drox, but Volpe’s still waiting, watching.

  “Eat it! Eat it! Eat it,” my brothers start chanting.

  “Fine.” I give a mischievous smile and take a few steps back, then transform, tossing the squirrel up and snapping it out of the air.

  The hairy body tickles the back of my throat, and I start coughing uncontrollably. My brothers laugh hysterically, and I snort a fireball at them, singing the grass at their feet.

  “Hey,” Zebulon yells indignantly.

  “What?” I affect innocence, shifting back. “It was an accident.”

  “Bullshit,” Tristin calls, and I just shrug, trying not to laugh.

  “Enough with the childish antics,” Sylaena barks. “It is astonishing how you have managed to take High Royal, acting like this.”

  Something in my face or demeanor must have changed drastically. Tristin just took a step back, and Caedryn’s laying a hand on my shoulder.

  I get my anger under control before facing Sylaena. “First of all, until Mary turned, and you reappeared, I was the only Royal. And two, it’s these ‘childish antics’ that won me the respect of the Outcasts. It proves I’m not like you, or any of the other uptight Royals that came before.” Assent rumbles through the crowd behind me.

  “Honorless,” Sylaena corrects snidely.

  “No, Outcasts, for that’s what they truly are. The Honorless corruption you speak of is a lie.” I’m trying really hard not to get angry. Well, any angrier than I am.

  “Are you insinuating I am a liar?” Sylaena’s voice raises a few octaves.

  “Yeah, I am, but also I’m not. I’m saying it was convenient. There are true Honorless, the ones that are evil, but you used that as an excuse to exile the dragons who weren’t easily controlled. You needed sheep, so you cast out the wolves.”

  “How dare you?!” Her voice climbs higher.

  “Oh, I dare. See, I’m not like you. I see the Outcasts as assets, not liabilities. I see them as equals, not inferior. I’m no fool, though; I know real evil exists, but we’ll figure out a way to deal with that after I unite all dragonkind, and we defeat Drustana together.”

  This impromptu speech is met with cheers from the Outcasts and a sneer from Sylaena. From the corner of my eye, I see Caedryn smirk. I don’t think anyone has dared speak to his mother like I just did. It’s high time someone did.

  “Spoken like a true High Royal,” Malakai approves, clamping a hand on Sylaena’s shoulder to calm her. “Tell me, how will you carry out this ambitious plan?” His mint green eyes meet mine, holding a slight challenge, and doubt. He’s better at this game then Sylaena.

  “I’ll speak with each clans Chieftains, stealing the Outcasts from under Drustana’s nose, leaving just the corrupted Knights to deal with, and Drustana herself.”

  “Corrupted Knights?” Malakai asks, concerned.

  “Oh yeah, you don’t know. Drustana corrupted all of the Knights minds, keeping them half beastlocked,” I answer.

  “What of the Knight-Captains?” Malakai’s voice is barely audible as shock sets in.

  “Dead, in a cave-in many years ago,” Baldure answers this time.

  “How are these Knights not corrupted?” Sylaena asks, suspicious.

  “Because I’m an Esper, as well as a Purificent, I released them all, save for Caedryn.” I smile at Sylaena’s shock.

  “How was Caedryn spared from this corruption?” Malakai asks.

  “That’s his story to tell,” I reply, nudging Caedryn forward. “Go ahead. Catch up with your parents. I have new recruits to address.” I smile up at him, and he kisses me, then walks off with his sister, mother, and father; Epona trailing just behind.

  “I am proud of you,” Sitrian says, pulling my attention away from the family reunion. “It’s about time someone stood up to Sylaena.” She hugs me tight, not having gotten the chance earlier because of Sylaena’s sudden appearance.

  “Thanks.” I smile, turning towards the group of dragons standing huddled together, still unsure as to where they fit.

  Kalos stands towards the front, obviously chosen as the interim leader. His red eyes meet mine as I approach, his head dipping slightly out of respect.

  “Xerxia,” he greets me, his voice soft with youth. I’d consider him only a little older than my brothers. “We thank you for allowing us the chance to be out of Drustana’s shadow.”

  I nod in turn. “I’m sorry not everyone saw it that way. How many did we lose in the skirmish?”

  The corner of Kalos’s mouth twitches at ‘we’, and his head bobs in agreement. “Three dead, one injured.”

  “Where’s the injured?” I glance around quickly.

  “He has already been healed,” a woman behind Kalos says, her voice familiar. “I am a Mender.” Her head lowers quickly, as if I might take offense at her insubordination, her rust colored hair falling to hide her face.

  “That’s great,” I say enthusiastically. “What’s your name?”

  “Destaya,” she replies quickly, and my mind grabs onto where I heard that voice before.

  “Oh, you were the dragon I was teasing, before Sitrian interfered.” I keep my voice light and playful.

  “Yes,” Destaya replies, a
shamed, and tucks her head in farther, clearly expecting some form of punishment.

  I gesture for Kalos to move aside, and he does, not entirely sure what I intend. “I’m not mad at you,” I assure Destaya, using a hand to pull her face up to meet my eyes. “You were only acting as you saw fit, according to what you knew. Obviously, that knowledge has changed. You’re here, and not with Drustana, or dead.” I smile at her and release her chin. “I’m not going to punish you for being misinformed. Welcome to the winning team!”

  Her breath slides out of her lungs in a rush, and she smiles weakly, glancing at Baldure.

  “I told you she was very forgiving.” Baldure gives her a broad smile, patting her back, and looks right at me. “Xerxia will truly unite us.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I return Baldure’s smile, glancing at all the new recruits before me. “Now, introductions. In case you don’t know, I’m Xerxia.” I make a production of bowing dramatically, getting a few smirks at the ridiculousness of it.

  “Darian,” one man says, bowing stiffly. He’s a bit older, equivalent to someone in their forties. His attire is much like all the other Outcasts, made of various leathers, and his brown hair is short, balancing out the long beard that trails nearly all the way down his torso.

  “Bellamy,” the man beside him states, less stiff. His dark blonde hair is long, as is his beard, his round face similar to Darian’s.

  “Brothers?” I guess.

  “Yes,” Darian answers, surprise in his dark eyes.

  “And which clan are you from?”

  “Our clan is no more,” Darian replies angrily. “Ours was small. Drustana had the Chieftain killed in much the same manner as Zebulon mentioned before. The Chieftain of a rival, larger clan was slain, the murder blamed on us. It very well may have been our Chieftain who slew the other, but Drustana placed the idea in his mind. She had visited our clan only days before the other Chieftain was killed.”

  “If you have no clan to claim, after this is over, you can join mine,” I offer, surprising everyone present, even Baldure.

  “You will keep the clans intact?” Baldure asks.

  “If that’s the way this goes, yeah. I don’t have to be in direct control of every dragon’s life. It’ll actually be easier if I delegate.”

  “It would be easy to simply keep what Drustana has done,” Darian points out.

  “Yeah, but admit it, all of you resent her for it,” I counter, and most of the heads around me reluctantly nod. “See? If I keep what she did in place, that resentment might carry over, and we’ll eventually be back at square one.”

  “We may resent Drustana, but we made the choice ourselves. All we wish is to be united; to be considered part of the whole,” an older, golden haired woman speaks up.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, recognizing her as one of the two guards who turned on Drustana.

  “Mara,” she answers confidently, stepping forward with the other woman who defected with her. “Our clan was one of the oldest and largest. Our Chieftain willingly joined Drustana, thinking she would truly unite dragonkind. When he saw through her lies, she killed him herself, claiming he would destroy all she worked for. I knew differently, but couldn’t gain the support to turn on her, until you.”

  “If you hated her, why were you at her back?” I inquire, pretty sure I know the answer.

  “It was the best place to look for a weakness,” Mara replies slyly.

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” I agree, happy I was right. “And your name is?” I turn to the other woman beside Mara.

  “Ranya.” She tips her head at me. “Mara’s daughter.”

  “Makes sense.” I smile, noticing the resemblance. “Any others from your clan present?” I look around, and two men step forward.

  “Haelyn,” the first man introduces himself.

  “Cedrick,” the other says, and they both bow.

  “Welcome,” I return, nodding to each. “Destaya, which clan are you from?”

  “Baldure and Alivia’s,” she answers, smiling at the huge twins. “I wasn’t born to it, however. I was Honorbound, but like many before me, never found my way back to my clan after my first transformation.”

  “Really?” I ask, curious.

  “Yes. We were told if you were Honorless, you wouldn’t find your way back. Only Honorbound can sense the Royals. When I couldn’t sense my clan, I feared I was Honorless. Baldure’s clan found me, taking me in and treating me as one of their own.”

  “Your original clan would have been my mother’s.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “Yes,” Baldure replies. “We had many Outcasts from your clan.”

  “All of them unable to find their way home?” I ask now.

  “Yes,” this time it’s Sitrian who answers, sounding like I’m on to something.

  “And this happens to all the Honorbound clans?” Sitrian nods. “The Honorbound are a lie, too,” I finally conclude.

  Sitrian smiles kindly. “Yes. I only found my way back because I knew the woods around the clan’s territory.”

  “Allowyn only found her way back because of Caedryn,” I realize. “What about you two?” I ask Turhion and Kerric.

  “I could never sense the Royals, but assumed it was because I could sense all the Knights,” Kerric answers after a moment of contemplation.

  “For me as well,” Turhion adds, looking perplexed at the ground, then glares in Sylaena’s direction. “She has lied to us.”

  “Yeah, but things are changing. I’m High Royal now,” I point out.

  “I will watch her,” Turhion vows. “Sylaena was High Royal for too long and won’t concede that easy.”

  “I know, and thanks. I can always use another pair of eyes.” I smile at Turhion’s fervor, knowing not long ago he would have agreed whole-heartedly with Sylaena. “What about you, Kalos? Where are you from?”

  “I was born Honorbound, but left to be raised by an Honorless clan,” he answers, a wistful smile playing at his lips as he looks right at me with his striking red eyes. “Do you know what kind of damage you have done to Drustana, getting me to defect?”

  “Probably not as much as she did to me by turning Mary,” I banter, not sure he’ll get my humor.

  Kalos chuckles, proving he does. “It might as well have been. I’m her son.”

  “Really?!” I screech before I know what’s coming out of my mouth. “Yet you still chose me over her?”

  “Yes,” Kalos replies. “Now that she has her precious Meirana again, I’m useless, like I was before.”

  “What?” I ask, a little more controlled.

  “Drustana wasn’t Royal, and nothing she could do would change that. She contrived a way to get a Royal puppet, seducing a Royal in hopes the offspring would also be Royal. Much to her dismay, I was not; a fact she reminds me of often. In hopes I would grow to become at least a good warrior, she left me with an Honorless clan. The next time I saw her was just after my first transformation, and Meirana was at her side, the Royal puppet she always wanted.”

  “Then Meirana was killed, mistaken Esper because of Allowyn, and you suddenly became Drustana’s favorite,” I finish for him.

  “Yes,” Kalos agrees, not surprised by my ability to read the story. “Now that Meirana has returned, Drustana has everything she needs.”

  “So she thinks,” I correct. “Her knowledge is based off false information, so we’re ahead of her in that respect. Also, she thinks I’m dead.”

  “She’ll be pleasantly surprised to find you’re not,” Kalos jokes, getting a loud laugh from me.

  “What’s so humorous?” Caedryn asks, appearing at my side, and Kalos ducks his head, stepping back submissively.

  “Drustana,” I answer, wrapping my arms around Caedryn’s waist with a smile.

  “I do not find Drustana to be humorous in the least,” Sylaena snips, joining the group, sneering unpleasantly at the Outcasts.

  “Being so serious all the tim
e has to be tiring,” I quip, getting a few smothered chuckles from the dragons around me.

  This earns me my own sneer, and Sylaena turns sharply on her heels to walk away. Malakai just shrugs, giving me an apologetic look, and follows after her.

  “This is going to be rough,” I comment absently, watching the couple disappear into the trees.

  “Mother’s just unsettled to no longer be High Royal,” Caedryn excuses. “Once you have united all dragonkind, she will have no choice but to accept it.” He smiles proudly at me, giving me a quick kiss, then turns to address all the Outcasts, stepping out of my arms to pat Kalos on the back. “Come, let’s eat. I wish to know my new kinsman, and we must speak of what comes next.”

  The Point of No Return

  UP before the sun, I rest on the small, grassy rise on the other side of the lake, watching my people sleeping quietly below, the Outcasts and Knights interspersed with each other like there was never any separation. Sylaena and Malakai’s tent stands out amongst the dragons curled up around the meadow, the gold fabric gaudy and frivolous against the natural setting of the mountains.

  The plans have been laid, yet my mind races. In just a few short hours we’ll be leaving, making our way to where Drustana’s encamped. Kalos assures me she wouldn’t have moved, thinking me dead, and volunteered to lead the way. That’s where things get a little less certain.

  Kalos knows Drustana planned on ruling the world, but her actual plans after my death were a secret from even him. Since I am technically dead to her, she might have changed the way her camps are laid out. It all depends on when, or if, she convinces the Outcasts to get on board with enslaving mankind.

  We’re hoping that, in her hubris, Drustana has let down her guard, but there’s a very real chance she has already amassed her army and we face a battle we just can’t win. We have plans for every eventuality we can see, but I know better than most people that plans can and will go awry.

  A small fire flickers to life inside of Sylaena’s tent, proving I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. Does she worry about the coming battle, as I do, or does she plot my downfall? I know she doesn’t like me, even more so now that I’m unashamedly an Esper. All it would take is a simple mistake on the battlefield… No.