Her brother was not a large boy. He had never had much meat on his bones and was quite short in comparison to other boys his age. Trista had also been a late bloomer, as thin as a rake until she hit fifteen and grew into her curves. Since that time, the daily work routine and constant outdoor activities had given her a body that she was proud of—and provided her with plenty of strength.
She crouched in front of Decan.
“Get on my back. Quickly!”
Gasping for breath, Decan put his arms around her neck and wrapped his legs weakly around her waist. As Trista stood up, the shouting from the three pursuing soldiers came closer. They still refused to give up.
Her legs felt as heavy as the stones she ran across. Their progress was slower then she wished, but at least the drunk soldiers behind her did not go much faster. The sand had been difficult for them to run on; the boulders were downright treacherous. Wet from the rain and waves that crashed upon them, the stones were unforgiving of any mistakes. Trista was deliberately taking it slowly, even if it meant that their hunters were closing in.
She turned at a shout from one of the men chasing them. A wrong move had made him lose his footing and he tumbled forward between two boulders. Unable to break his fall with anything but his head, the soldier’s neck snapped sideways. He would not be getting up again.
Finally, Trista reached the flat stretch leading to the entrance of the cavern complex. As they reached the dark mouth of the main cave, she swiftly put her brother down. She coughed as the choking pressure around her neck was released.
“Can you walk again?” asked Trista. Decan nodded meekly.
For a moment, they both stared at the gaping black hole. The cavern looked like a sea monster waiting to swallow them whole.
“We need to move now,” said Trista. She pulled her brother along into the darkness. “We need to stay ahead of them. They have torches.”
By the time the soldiers arrived at the entrance, the siblings had made it a fair distance into the cave. But they were moving slowly, sliding their hands along the wall, searching for a way to escape their pursuers. Small patches of light trickled in through cracks in the ceiling. It was enough to let Trista know where they were. She heard the soldiers’ voices as they entered the caves in search of them both.
Their hunters had no problems moving around. They simply held their torches high and entered the underground complex. But the caves were a maze and both Trista and her brother had already taken several turns, moving deeper into the tunnels.
It was a deadly game of hide and seek. If she and her brother could get deep enough into the cave system, the soldiers would be unlikely to find them. They would be safe, for now. But if they were found, Trista had no doubt they would never see a new day.
“I’m scared.”
It was the first thing Decan had said since the village. Trista heard the tremble in his voice.
“I know. Just keep going. We know these caves, remember? We can do this. We just need to go deeper, where they won’t find us.”
When they turned a corner, the infinite darkness gave way to a bluer luminescent light. It was her sanctuary, the cavern where Trista had spent many nights lying in the moss staring at the stars as they poured into the chamber. Even Decan stopped whimpering for the briefest of moments as the cave’s full glory came into view.
As brother and sister stepped into the naturally formed room, Trista noticed a huge sheet of rock had fallen from the ceiling and squashed her favorite stargazing spot.
It must have happened during the tremors.
Her eye caught something else that had not been there before. On one of the walls, where the flowers normally flowed as a river of lights, was a large crevice.
A soldier’s voice carried through the tunnels, taunting them in that unknown language and making them both flinch. Trista had hoped their pursuers would get turned around inside the caves, making it harder for the soldiers to run into them, at least until they could find a good enough hiding spot. But the voices were closing in on them fast. She already saw the glow of a torch in the tunnel they had just exited.
She pulled Decan toward the split-open wall. She was not entirely sure why; there were other tunnels out of this cave, all of them leading deeper underground. But there was something about this unfamiliar crack that drew her in.
She poked her head in to check it out. It was big enough for them both to squeeze through, but she could not see where it led.
“I think we can fit through,” she said to Decan. Her brother opened his mouth as if to protest, but the approaching soldiers’ voices made him swallow his words.
She ushered her little brother into the crevice. As he disappeared into the darkness, he let out a soft whimper. He had never liked the dark, especially after getting lost so long ago. Trista was a bit surprised he had not objected sooner.
He must be terrified out of his mind.
She reached out just in time to grab his hand.
“I’m right here. Keep going,” she murmured.
The soldiers chose that moment to storm into the chamber. They spotted Trista right away—she was still sticking half out of the wall. They burst toward her.
Slipping further into the tear, the rough stone wall closed in around her. She felt panic flare inside her, afraid that she had misjudged the space. But her brother was still moving forward, inching away from her. She tried lowering herself and found enough space to continue.
She screamed when an arm plunged into the crevice, grabbing at her shoulders and hair. She bent her knees, half-falling, half-stumbling forward, tearing both clothing and hair as the soldier refused to let go. Behind her, a sword introduced itself with a clang of metal. It was thrust through the crack as the soldier extended his arm as far as possible, but he was too large to enter the thin fissure completely. Unable to move away in time, Trista felt the blade cut into her arm. She grit her teeth against the pain.
“It’s opening up here,” she heard Decan say anxiously, but before she could take another step the walls of stone started to shake violently.
Not now!
Trista felt the stone wall move beneath the pressure of moving earth. Behind her, the shouting was cut off by a loud crash and sounds of falling rocks. The ceiling in the moss chamber had given way completely, burying both remaining soldiers under its crushing weight.
The shifting walls tightened around her. The harder she tried to move forward the more pressure she felt pressing down on her.
“Decan! Help!” she screamed in panic. I'm going to be crushed!
Her little brother pulled on her arm.
“Lower! You need to go lower, Trista!”
“Lower.”
“I can’t!” screamed Trista.
“You must!” The voice in her head did not entirely sound like her own.
Her head was pounding again, her chest heaving rapidly. Chest…hurts. Can’t...breathe.
“Ignore it.”
Need to breathe. Help!
“We are helping. Now breathe out.”
“Breathe out, Triss! You need to breathe out!” yelled Decan.
But I need air!
“IGNORE IT.”
Fighting her body’s natural instincts, Trista forced herself to breathe out, decreasing the size of her chest. She could finally move again. She lowered herself further. Decan pulled with all his might while Trista kicked herself forward out of the closing space.
And just like that, the shaking stopped. One of her feet still rested in the crawlspace she had just escaped; the passage was now no larger than a rabbit hole. Trista stared at it, gulping in air as if she had spent ten minutes under water.
“Are you alright?” asked her brother, staring at her foot. She still needed a moment to catch her breath, but pulled out her foot and nodded at Decan.
“We’re not going back that way, that’s for sure.”
She sat on the ground, panting, and Decan threw himself into her arms. He cried as all the horrors of
the night came out. Trista could do nothing but hold her little brother. She hugged him tightly, making shushing sounds as she let her own tears flow as well.
As Decan’s sobbing subsided, she looked up to take in their surroundings. That was when she saw it for the first time. A weak light flowed in from the ceiling. Multiple cracks ran across it, providing a spectacle of illumination as the moon’s rays fell like a net into the cavern. There, toward the wall, was an egg.
Decan relaxed in her arms. Now that the danger had passed, exhaustion grabbed them both. Her little brother was already half-asleep, but Trista pushed her own tiredness away, mesmerized by the egg in front of her. It was huge. Much bigger than any egg Trista had ever seen. It had a bluish-green color in the moonlight, almost as if it was covered in moss.
Carefully, she lay her softly snoring brother down on the ground and crept over to the egg. It had a strange mystique to it, as if it was very old. She briefly put her hand on it, but the egg was almost too hot to touch. Trails of steam came out of the ground near the base of the egg. The air in the entire room felt like a warm blanket. When Trista put her hand on the ground, she found it too was unusually warm.
The heat made Trista drowsy, and suddenly she wanted nothing other than to sleep for a week. She sat down close to the egg, pulling her brother a little closer. She put her arms around him, hoping it would make him feel safer. The warm ground relaxed her body with its heat and made it impossible to fight off sleep any longer. She let it take her. Somehow, she felt safe here. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the world slipped away into darkness.
“Rest now.”
There it was again, so very soothing to hear; a voice not quite her own.
Chapter 3
Flee
Flames closed in on Trista from all sides. She looked around desperately for her little brother.
“Decan? Decan! Where are you?”
She could hear nothing over the roar of the fire. She coughed into her arm; the smoke was suffocating.
There—an opening!
But as soon as she stepped toward it the flames closed ranks again, creeping slowly toward her. Behind the flames rose the screams of men, while the stench of burning flesh penetrated her nose.
“No! Stay away!” she screamed at the orange tongues licking at her feet. “Leave me alone! Decan!”
“Calm down.”
“Who’s there?”
Trista looked around, but it was too dark. She could not even see the stars through all the smoke.
“Where’s my brother? What have you done with him?”
“Your brother is fine. He is sleeping still.”
“The fire is coming closer. Help me!”
“It is alright. It will not reach you. Look for the water.”
“Water? What water? There’s no water, just fire! Someone help me. Decan, help me!”
“Above…”
The smoke stung her eyes and the hot air burned her lungs as she tried to breathe, but each attempt led to more coughing. She fell to her knees, clasping her throat with her hands as she tried to clear the smoke inside. It was no use. There was barely any air to breathe. Panicked, she rolled onto her back and pulled up her knees, unable to move away from the approaching danger.
“Above…”
As she stared toward the unseen sky behind the thick black clouds of smoke, the thought kept repeating in her head.
“Above…”
Something hit her face. It was small, cold, and wet. Another drop followed, then another.
What’s happening?
The roaring of flames was pushed back by the thundering sound of rushing water. A wave burst from the smoke and crashed down toward her, straight from the sky, extinguishing the flames in a combination of loud hissing and steam. Trista's lungs filled with the hot, moist air, making it only a tiny bit less difficult to breathe.
Drenched, Trista uncurled herself and looked around. The flames were gone. Everything was wrapped in a thick blanket of steam, but she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A shadow moved toward her slowly, deliberately. But the fog was too thick; she could not make out who or what it was, even when the shadow was right on top of her. Then the dark shape spoke, brushing her forehead with the lightest of touches.
“You are mine and I am yours. My name is Dalkeira.”
A rush of warmth flowed through Trista. She opened her eyes, awakening from her dream. The shaded surroundings of the cave came into view. But as her eyes adjusted, the shadows somehow seemed less dark—and not just because of the sun's rays falling in through the ceiling. Shades of gray and brown colored the cave. Water drops on the dark stone walls glittered in the light like little stars. Even the sunlight itself seemed more vibrant.
As Trista sat up, a creature came into view. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, yet it seemed very familiar. The size of a large dog, its skin was a combination of lizard and fish. Small scales of a deep blue color ran the entire length of its body, overlaid with a darker green glow. The animal was magnificent, and rivaled the deep colors of the ocean itself. It appeared to be waiting patiently for Trista to take it all in.
As she stared at the creature, it shook its entire body, spreading out two large, beautiful wings before tucking them back in again.
“Would you mind not staring? It is quite rude. It is as though you have never seen a dragon before,” said Dalkeira.
“That’s because I haven’t,” said Trista, hesitantly and without much thought. “Hold on! You can talk?”
“Of course I can talk.”
The dragon leaned closer. Instinctively, Trista moved back a few inches. The dragon backed off again immediately.
“I mean you no harm.”
“But you’re not moving your muzzle…jaw...I mean, mouth.” Trista stumbled over her words as she tried to process one thing at a time.
“One does not always need a mouth to speak. Nor do you have to use yours to let me hear you. We would not want to wake up the smaller version of you, would we?” said the dragon.
Trista looked at Decan, still sleeping beside her. The cave was pleasantly warm, and although it was a bit damp Trista imagined it definitely beat sleeping in the cold air in one of those awful cages. Flashes from the night before rushed into her head.
I hope he’s okay.
“He is just sleeping, albeit restlessly. Much like you were yourself, I might add,” answered the dragon in response to Trista’s thought.
“You can hear me?”
“Like I just said, no need to talk out loud if you do not want to.”
The dragon tilted her head as Trista's thoughts raced. It all seemed so strange, yet now that the drowsiness of sleep had worn off, she felt absolutely no fear. The dragon’s eyes looked at her with expectation. They were beautiful eyes, layered with deep colors. In each, three pupils floated in a blue iris which contained tiny swirls of intense yellow and patches of dark green. Each pupil was a swirling, sparkling vortex, and out of each leaked a small line to the side of the iris—like a tiny river. Mesmerized, Trista stared into those ocean-blue eyes.
The dragon stared back.
“Where did you come from?” Trista said finally, as if coming out of a trance.
“I believe you already know,” answered Dalkeira.
Trista looked at the large egg that she had spotted before falling asleep. The top was cracked open and parts of the side had been pushed outward. Hot steam was still escaping from the floor around the empty eggshell. A puddle of clear liquid ran from the egg, down the stones to the spot where the newly hatched dragon was now sitting. She saw the dragon’s scaled skin still gleamed from it.
Small fins lined Dalkeira’s head: three rows running over the top toward her neck, and two vertically on the back of her jaw. Each jawline also had a similar fin running along its length, although it was barely visible. Two small barbel whiskers ran from her chin. From nose to tail, the slender lines of the dragon’s neck and body shone and weaved like the ocean.
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br /> “Are you the goddess?” she asked, surprising herself with the thought.
“Goddess? I am not familiar with the word. I am a dragon, as I already told you,” said Dalkeira. “Did you perhaps hit your head yesterday?”
“And it was you who I heard last night, wasn’t it?” Trista continued out loud.
“It sounded like you needed some encouragement,” said Dalkeira.
“I suppose I did.”
Trista heard a grunt beside her as Decan stirred.
“Oh…it hurts,” the boy groaned, holding his head.
As he sat up, blinking, Dalkeira watched him expectantly. Trista saw her brother’s eyes stretch wide.
“Aah! Get away!”
Decan scrambled backward, perhaps afraid that the king of lizards had come out to take revenge for all the times he had tried to catch one of the small island reptiles. His hand found a small rock which he lifted right away to throw at the unknown creature.
“It’s okay, Decan, it’s okay!” said Trista, quickly catching him by the arm.
“This is Dalkeira. She won’t hurt you…us, just as I won’t let anything hurt her.”
Trista was a bit surprised by that last part, especially given the determined tone in which she had said it. She barely knew this enchanting creature, yet she knew she would do anything to keep her safe.
Dalkeira enforced the statement by making a gracious bow to the young boy, who still had a look of disbelief on his face.
“She says she is pleased to meet you, and thanks you for saving me from the crushing walls,” said Trista, translating the soft growls and peeping sounds coming from the dragon’s throat.
“So…you aren’t here to eat me? Or punish me for hunting lizards?” said Decan, still sounding unsure of the whole situation.
“I would not eat either of you, but perhaps he can help me catch some of those small lizards he talks about. I am so very hungry,” said Dalkeira’s voice inside Trista’s head.
Trista felt her own stomach rumble. Yet below her own hunger was a second, powerful urge, and suddenly she realized she felt that Dalkeira was famished.
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