Sorcha's Heart

by Mumford, Debbie

  “And what have you learned?” asked the Rex. “You alone, among the inhabitants of this earth, have seen the conflict from both sides. What have you learned?”

  “Well, I’ve learned that things are not as simple as either side thinks they are,” she said. “Dragons are certainly not the unreasoning monsters that human children are taught to fear, but neither are most humans callous butchers.”

  The aerie thrummed with agitated exhalations, but the Rex willed his dragons to silence. He nodded his great head at Sorcha. “Continue.”

  “If both species are to survive,” she said, concentrating on the Rex, “then we must communicate. I realize, now, that human speech is a...” she hesitated, searching for the proper word, “challenge. I didn’t understand these things before my transformation. Humans think dragons are unconcerned, unwilling to compromise. Some humans think you are little more than unintelligent beasts.”

  A barrage of indignant comments erupted from the flight at this affront to dragon wisdom, and Sorcha thanked the gods and goddesses that dragons couldn’t blush as she picked out isolated grumblings about the many failings of the human race. She pulled back from the link, deciding she’d said enough for one day, and observed until the mutterings died away.

  “Your thoughts are quiet, young wizard, yet I believe you have more to share.”

  A trace of a dare colored the Rex’s tone. She cast Caedyrn a sidelong glance, looked around at the rest of the dragons crowded around them, and decided she might as well finish what she’d started.

  “Well, there is the matter of humanity’s flocks and herds.”

  Immediately, the angry comments began again, but this time the Rex quelled his flight. “Enough,” he growled. “We will hear what the Heart of Fire has sent this human to tell us.” Mention of the legendary stone, which now dangled from Sorcha’s neck, silenced the dragons, and placed their focus firmly back on her. She thought of her mother’s battle to convince King Leofric not to antagonize the dragons, and considered her phrasing carefully.

  “Dragon depredation has brought many villages to the edge of starvation. Yet humanity’s wanton destruction of habitat cost dragons their natural prey. These issues divide us, yet I’m sure they can be solved with time and diplomacy.”

  “And who will be our diplomats?” asked the Rex. “Who will go among the humans to plead our cause? How are we to communicate with creatures who think us monsters and whose speech is painful to our ears?”

  The mind-link went silent, and so did the aerie. Not a thought sang through the flight’s group mind; not a sound thrummed through the ice cave’s hollow core.

  Sorcha held her breath, and then expelled a fiery blip as she declared her conviction to the flight. “I will go, Sire. Perhaps the Heart of Fire transformed me for this purpose.”

  Again the flight clamored for the Rex’s attention.

  “You cannot trust her, Sire. She’s a human at heart!”

  “No. She knows nothing of our kind.”

  “And if I accompany her?” Caedyrn boomed into the link. “The Heart of Fire called me to witness her transformation. I will guard her when she returns to the humans. They will be hard pressed to recognize her now.”

  The Rex closed his eyes and breathed a benediction into the flight’s mind. “Peace, my friends. We have no need to make such a weighty decision now. Sorcha has much to learn about being a dragon, and we must learn from her alien thoughts.”

  He turned his fiery eyes on Sorcha and spoke directly to her, though he eschewed a private link. “You are in no danger from us, little wizard. I guarantee your safety.” He swept his head around to view his flight, “and we are in no danger from one untrained dragon, though she be a wizard in human form. It is my judgment that we live together in peace while Sorcha learns our ways. An envoy to the humans will wait until the flight is satisfied as to the character of the messengers.”

  With that, the tight focus of the flight collapsed and Sorcha endured chaos as a mob of exuberant voices exploded in her skull.

  *~*~*

  Caedyrn helped Sorcha settle into her lair. He insisted she be allowed a private space among the un-bonded females.

  “She’s still adjusting to our communication strand. Remember, in her species each member is isolated within his or her own mind. She requires a little space.”

  The other young females thought this very odd, but agreed to give Sorcha the necessary privacy. Her first night in the lair, she regretted this decision.

  Bereft of Caedyrn’s companionship, she slipped into melancholy and mourned for Elspeth and her friends. What must they think? She’d never been gone so long before. After her argument with her mother, Sorcha had simply slipped away to retrieve the Heart of Fire without telling anyone where she’d gone. Elspeth must be out of her mind with worry.

  Carefully, Sorcha tried to draw on the magic she’d practiced since childhood. She sought the familiar pool of strength, but couldn’t push past the inexplicable barrier. In desperation, she touched the link with Caedyrn instead.

  “What is it, my Sorcha,” he said.

  The feel of his voice in her mind soothed her agitation. “It’s nothing,” she replied. “I wanted to tell my mother I’m safe, but I can’t seem to reach my magic.”

  “I asked the elders about that” he said. “It seems you cannot draw upon your human magic in this form, little wizard. I’m sorry. I wish humans could connect as we do; then you could ease your pain, and your mother’s as well.”

  “Thank you, Caedyrn. Sleep well.” Sorcha closed the link and withdrew to her private space, but it was long before she slept.

  Chapter Four

  Preparation

  Bright and early the next morning, a prolonged susurrus of slithering near the entrance of her lair awakened Sorcha. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes before she remembered her hands were now clawed feet. Everything felt wrong. She’d slept crooked, and unaccustomed muscles ached in strange places. Before settling in tonight, she’d make sure to ask someone to demonstrate a comfortable sleeping position.

  How did a dragon begin her day? There’d be no tooth brushing without hands, no working tangles from non-existent long hair, no washing of face or selection of apparel. Bereft and bewildered, she realized that one aspect of her morning routine remained; dragon or human, she still needed to relieve herself first thing in the morning.

  Feeling about as graceful as a horse on ice, Sorcha clambered out of her nest and made her way to her lair’s opening. An unbonded female approached, and Sorcha cautiously touched her link.

  “Greetings,” she said cautiously. “Can you help me?”

  The emerald green female gazed at her with open curiosity. “I’ll try. What do you need?” Sorcha realized she had no idea what dragons would call that particular bodily function, so she simply allowed her need to color her thought.

  “Oh,” came the amused response, “of course. Follow me, and the place you’re looking for is the urinal, though of course we use it for both functions.”

  “Thank you,” Sorcha said, joining the young green in the corridor and following her lead.

  “I’m Sorcha, and you are...”

  “Morna, and you don’t need to introduce yourself. Everyone knows who you are. Here’s the urinal. If you like, I’ll wait and show you the way to the great gallery.”

  “Thank you, Morna,” she said, blessing the young dragon for neatly forestalling the need to make a solitary entrance to the great gallery. “I’d appreciate that.”

  When Sorcha rejoined Morna in the passageway, she found a cluster of excited females waiting for her.

  “These are my lair mates,” Morna explained. “They wanted to meet the human dragon. This is Oona. That’s Nuala, Keeva, and Sabia.”

  As she said their names, Morna pointed her snout first at a blue, then an orange, a mauve, and finally an aqua dragon. Sorcha gazed at each young female in turn and sorted through the enormous amount of information that had assaulted her
mind the evening before.

  “Ah,” she said. “I think I understand; tell me if I’m right. You are lair mates because you are all unbonded and you all learned to fly at about the same time.”

  Keeva nodded and the group began to meander toward the center of the aerie. “Very good! Yes, we all left hatchling status at about the same time, so we’ve trained together with the elders ever since.”

  “And the threshold between hatchling and dragonet is flight, correct?”

  “Yes,” said Nuala, her orange skin glowing against the white of the ice passage, “but we’re not dragonets any longer.”

  Sorcha’s mind whirled with the unfamiliar distinctions. Her confusion must have shown, because Oona picked up the thread of conversation.

  “It’s really very simple,” the young blue said. “Hatchlings live with and are tended by their parents until they learn to fly, usually around five years of age. Once they can fly, they’re known as dragonets and they train with the elders in maturation groups.”

  That’s right,” interrupted Sabia. “It doesn’t matter how old they are. What matters is when they learned to fly. So all the first year dragonets train together, and so on.”

  “Yes,” agreed Morna, taking the lead as the group crossed an intersecting passage, “we’ve been together since we learned to fly, along with the males. Of course, they don’t stay in our lair!”

  Bubbles of feminine humor peeled through Sorcha’s brain, and she realized that these youngsters weren’t so different from human maidens.

  “So you’ve been lair mates since you learned to fly?” she asked.

  “Oh, no!” said several voices at once.

  “Dragonets train with the elders, but they still live with their parents.” The sky blue scales around her eye ridges crinkled good-naturedly as Oona explained. “We don’t move into unbonded lairs until we reach sexual maturity.”

  “Fortunately, we all changed station at about the same time,” said Keeva. “I know I’d’ve felt just awful if I’d been left behind.”

  “That happens, sometimes,” Nuala added, a dark overtone coloring her words. “The whole group will get to move to an unbonded lair except for one poor straggler!” She shuddered as if unable to contemplate a worse fate.

  “And you stay together in the lair until you bond with a male,” Sorcha said, cataloging the information for future reference.

  “Right,” chorused her new friends.

  “I certainly hope the elders don’t make you join a group of dragonets,” Keeva blurted. The others immediately shushed her, but she turned wide eyes on her friends and said, “But that would be so mortifying!”

  Morna nudged Sorcha to one side as Sabia and Nuala pushed Keeva into the aerie’s great gallery. “Don’t mind Keeva,” Morna said. “Tact isn’t her best aspect. I’m sure the elders will treat you with respect, Sorcha. It’s not your fault you haven’t been properly trained.” With that pronouncement, she led Sorcha into the great gallery.

  Dragons of all colors and sizes milled through the room. At first their movement appeared random, but gradually Sorcha detected patterns. Groups formed before her eyes and moved purposefully away. The young females she’d accompanied to the hall dispersed and new groups of small dragons formed around them. She couldn’t tell if the youngsters were dragonets or hatchlings, but decided it didn’t matter.

  The groups swelled and eddied around a core that seemed as solid as the cliffs near her home. The sea of dragons parted and Sorcha saw that the cliff was composed of the red-brown Rex, Caedyrn’s ebony black, and a deep purple male. She searched her memory and found his name— Lorcan, bond-mate to Etna, and an honored elder. As she stood pressed against the soothing comfort of the ice wall, Caedyrn turned his red-eyed gaze upon her and her pulse gave a quick staccato of delight.

  “Welcome, Sorcha,” he said. “Come and join us. We are discussing your education.”

  She relaxed, sure of Caedyrn’s welcome, and approached the three males.

  “Sire,” she said, inclining her head to the Rex. “Lorcan, Caedyrn, I wish you good morning.”

  “Well done,” said the Rex. “Caedyrn and I had a wager on whether or not you’d know Lorcan’s name.” His red eyes twinkled with humor. “Caedyrn won.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Sorcha,” said Lorcan. “The Rex has given me the pleasant duty of explaining dragon history and lore to you.”

  She imagined herself sitting in a group of diminutive dragons, and Lorcan laughed aloud.

  “No, little wizard,” he said. “You are unique and you will be treated so. We will hold our lessons privately. My bond-mate, Etna, will train you in the specifics of female etiquette, and Caedyrn will see that you continue to increase your flight skills.”

  “And I,” said the Rex, “will discuss politics and the governance of dragons with you.”

  “Oh, my,” Sorcha said. “I am honored, Sire. I never expected that you would take an interest in my training.”

  His eye-ridge lifted in surprise. “Did you not? When you are the most unusual dragon ever to tread this ice? I will see to it that you understand our species before you attempt to explain us to your human relatives.” He closed his eyes in dismissal. “Be gone, all of you. I must consider my first hearing of the day.”

  Lorcan guided Sorcha away from the Rex with Caedyrn close behind. As they passed, Sorcha heard a disembodied voice comment, “Her color’s not so bad. I wouldn’t mind having a go when she makes her first flight.”

  Before she could question what the speaker referred to, Caedyrn whipped around to stare down a small group of unbonded males. A charcoal male gazed at her appraisingly, while a scarlet male scooted to one side. The malachite stood his ground, but lowered his eyes in the wake of Caedyrn’s reproachful glare.

  “Keep your link controlled in this public space,” he snarled. “Another uncouth comment like that, and you’ll be flying ‘til your wings drop off.”

  The younger males dropped their heads in submission, but Sorcha caught another sly glance, this time from the malachite male. She didn’t understand their reference to her first flight — after all, she had flown to get to the aerie — but knew from Caedyrn’s tautly controlled anger that she’d been insulted, and probably in a very crude manner.

  “Get going,” Caedyrn ordered, “before I find your elder and lodge a formal complaint.” The trio disappeared down a nearby passageway.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, as Caedyrn rejoined them.

  “Do not concern yourself, my dear,” said Lorcan. “The young are often thoughtless. Let us continue to my lair. Etna awaits.”

  Sorcha’s days passed in flurries of dragon lore and flight, but her solitary nights dragged.

  Often she wished she could move in with Morna and her friends, but when daylight arrived and she found herself besieged by their bright, but constant chatter, she longed for solitude. Her two natures warred. Alone, she longed for the comfort of dragon community. Swarmed by scaly bodies and alien thinking, she longed for hands and feet and sanctity of mind.

  On one such restless night, Sorcha climbed to the heights where dragons sunned during the day. She curled into the tightest ball she could manage and gazed at the distant moon. That same moon watched over her mother’s home as she slept, secure in the king’s stronghold.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” she said aloud, ignoring the painful overtones for the sake of hearing a spoken word. “Really, I am.” The words drifted away on the still night air, and she knew that if she still possessed human eyes, she’d be crying. She switched to her mind-voice, though she held it strictly confined. “The Heart of Fire’s price was high, but not unbearable. I’m still me, still Sorcha at my core.”

  The loss of her magic pained her more than the loss of hands or hair or body, but there were compensations. Dragon magic functioned very differently, just as dragon logic often defied her understanding, but it was magic nonetheless, and its presence comforted her. And there was Caedyrn. The
huge black remained her stalwart champion. Whether he was with her physically or not, she relied on the knowledge that the comfort of his mind-voice was only a thought away.

  The moon, a slender curve of light, rose to its apex and began to decline before Sorcha stirred from her solitary vigil on the heights. She made her way back to her lair in a trance of melancholy sleepiness. Passing the great gallery, she came within range of a heated discussion. Caedyrn and the Rex, not expecting any listeners at this dark hour, raged at each other without bothering to keep their link private.

  “You must back away from this female, Caedyrn,” said the Rex, his words rife with command. “A rex cannot bond. You have waited this long. Let this infatuation pass.”

  “I haven’t bonded, not out of desire to be rex,” came Caedyrn’s reply, “but because no female has tempted me. You have no right to deny me a bond-mate if I choose to seek one.”

  Caedyrn wanted to bond? The thought cut Sorcha’s heart, and she stumbled back the way she’d come, pulling her thoughts away from the vibrant thread of communication. Blindly, she wandered the corridors until fate brought her back to her own empty nest. If she lost Caedyrn, if he bonded with a female... She didn’t know if she could bear the loneliness. Dry eyed and silent, her heart cried her to sleep.

  The next morning, she watched the unbonded females with predatory interest. Which had caught his eye? The golden beauty two maturation groups above Morna? Perhaps the sleek, doe- eyed green that chatted with Etna. No, more likely the terra cotta lovely who instructed Sabia in healing. Yes, that one had a regal bearing that would attract a virile male like Caedyrn.

  Sorcha’s soul shriveled as she imagined Caedyrn’s glistening black scales curled around her red-brown glow in the privacy of a bonded pair’s nest.

  “You’re very intent, this morning.” Caedyrn’s voice sounded in her mind as his snout nudged her shoulder. “Are you thinking of joining Sabia for healing lessons?”