by Jada Fisher
Crispin was humming something, his voice surprisingly low and soothing. She only caught every few words, as common when sung was quite different from spoken common tongue. But even without knowing the words, it was quite lovely. Something about the water and dancing and happy, happy times.
Nightmares forgotten, she sank deeper and deeper toward sleep, tension draining from her body and safety replacing it.
“Don’t you worry about anything, okay? I know you’ve had to look after yourself for a long time, Ukrah. But I’m here for life. You saved my life, ya know. And I don’t take that lightly.”
She wanted to reply, maybe tell him that he was the one who saved her first, but her thoughts were syrupy sweet and relaxed, pulling her down into a blissful sleep.
She just hoped she could remember his kind words in the morning.
This idiot has no idea what he’s talking about. Magic wasn’t born out of dragons; dragons were born out of magic.
“Be quiet,” Ukrah whispered to Tayir heatedly. Normally, she could ignore him like second nature, but he was perched on her shoulder, twittering right in her ear.
“What was that, Miss Ukrah? Did you have something you wanted to share with the class?”
Ukrah’s jaw tensed as she glanced to the professor at the front of the room. According to Eist, he had only started the year before, and it was clear he was still trying to make a name for himself by how overly strict he was.
“No, Professor.”
“Alright then, I’ll thank you not to continue disrupting the class in the future.”
“But, Professor, how can we not be distracted when she’s allowed to bring a wild animal into class?”
If Ukrah wasn’t staring right at the professor, she would have rolled her eyes. Of course, Melithindre would think of some way to interject herself into the conversation. It figured that she had to be in almost all of Ukrah’s classes and training sessions.
“Wild animal?” Crispin sputtered. “You mean this tiny little finch is bothering you somehow?”
“It doesn’t matter how small it is, it’s a creature that shouldn’t be in the classroom.”
“You literally have dragons all around you.”
“Yes, and Miss Ukrah has an egg, further proof that perhaps she isn’t ready for this level of training yet, especially considering how many exceptions are being made. This is a dragon rider academy, not an egg-rolling one.”
You know you could destroy her without lifting a finger, right? I think she’d probably deserve it. A little bit of annihilation never hurt anybody.
It took almost all her willpower not to chuckle at that. As tempting as it was, Ukrah didn’t want to hurt the girl…and least of all like that. Sure, maybe a punch or two was in order, but calling upon the thing that was using her body was definitely going multiple steps too far.
“She’s already got you, her translator who doesn’t actually translate,” Melithindre said. “Why the animal too? Just because her sponsor ran around never following the rules or answering to anybody else doesn’t mean that she also gets a pass.”
“Must be convenient to think you know the whole world like that,” Crispin retorted. “It’s a shame you don’t actually understand anything, otherwise it might be impressive.”
“Students, enough. We don’t have time for your petty rivalries.”
“Please, like I’m going to be lectured by some nameless servant boy. I’m sure you’re very learned on history from all those classes in alleys where you skulked out from.”
Ukrah tensed at that, her fingernails biting into the wood of the table, but Crispin just put his hand over hers.
“Better a street urchin than a complete—”
“Enough! Ukrah, Melithindre, see me after this session. I’ll not have you monopolizing our time any longer.”
That shut Crispin up, but Melithindre let out several grumbles. Ukrah just kept staring straight ahead, forcing herself to be perfectly still. One thing was for certain, though: the more she got to know the world of dragon riders and the civilized kingdoms, the less she wanted to be a part of it.
And that feeling didn’t lessen as the professor proceeded to lecture them once everyone else had left. Of course, Melithindre tried to blame it all on Ukrah, and instead of the teacher telling her that she was full of it, he tried to treat them like they were both equal parts of the problem.
“But she didn’t even say anything,” Crispin argued. “I’m the one who responded to Lady Venom-spit.”
But the professor didn’t even address the boy, telling Ukrah if she was going to have extra support in class due to her circumstances that she needed to make sure those things didn’t interrupt the environment.
“Boy, wasn’t that just a load of something?” Crispin groused when they were finally released, Melithindre disappearing into the throng dutifully waiting for her while Ukrah headed in the opposite direction on principle.
“I’m not familiar with that phrase, but it sounds negative, so I will say yes.”
“Ugh, I know Eist told me that she got bullied pretty badly, but it’s just never-ending. I don’t know how you just sit there all stoic-like.”
Ukrah shrugged. “Your tongue is not my native one. While I might know how to cleverly respond in my own language, I probably couldn’t in yours. And she would use that as an excuse to call me stupid.”
“Ugh. I guess you’re right. At least one of us is logical.” He wrapped his arms around her egg, which he was carrying in a harness on his front. “Isn’t that right, little guy?”
“Why do you talk to him in that strange voice?”
“Strange voice? What are you talkin’ about?”
“You know…” She looked to him with furrowed brows, trying to imitate his raised and silly tone. “Like this, all sweety-weety.”
“Okay, first of all, I do not sound like that. Second of all, it’s called baby-talk and I happen to think it’s cute.”
“Why would you talk to baby in such a way?”
“Because they’re cute and sweet and make you feel all caught up in it. Come on, Ukrah.” He turned to her, grabbing her hand and putting it on top of her egg. “Are you telling me you don’t just look at him sometimes and feel so caught up in how adorable he is and will be that you’ve just gotta express it?”
She gave him one of her dubious looks. “You speak to a child to teach them, yes, so why would you want to teach your child to speak incorrectly?”
Crispin groaned. “Ugh, you know what? I’m not letting you ruin my fun with the baby. Come on, little guy, let’s go back to our rooms and I can read you a book while your oh-so-serious rider studies.”
Ukrah didn’t point out that Crispin struggled with reading common even more than her, instead just following along after him, her mood considerably different. What would she have done if he hadn’t stumbled upon her in that lake in the woods?
She didn’t know, but her life would be so much emptier.
And she was pretty sure her little guy would be down a mama.
4
It Has to Get Worse Before it Can Get Better
Surprisingly, school fell into a kind of rhythm after that. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant rhythm, but it was one that the three of them managed to adjust to fairly well.
The bullying of the other students never really relented, but it did become background noise as Crispin engaged less and less. Eventually, it seemed like they were no longer the new and shiny toys for kids to mess around with, because even Melithidre bothered them less by their third month.
However, it was hard not to be jealous of the other initiates and their dragons. Ukrah was always watching, either out of the corner of her eye or over a scroll that she was supposed to be reading, and she caught so many tender moments.
The tall, stately Margaidian she had noticed on the first day had a beautiful green dragon who just drooled everywhere, and it was utterly adorable to watch her try to clean up after him. It would probably be less adorable when his drool start
ed to transition to its more acidic nature, but he had a year or two before that.
There was also this broad blond boy who reminded her a bit of Athar, and unsurprisingly, he had a red dragon. But his little—not little at all—gal was about the laziest creature ever and insisted on being carried everywhere or she would just cry and cry and cry until somebody—literally anybody—picked her up.
There was a set of blue dragons that were just as interesting as the twins they had chosen, a silver dragon that was obsessed with hair, and a copper dragon that apparently had gotten his hording instinct early and was always stealing little bits and bobs whenever he could.
She wanted that, and she knew that she would get it eventually, but she couldn’t help but wonder again when her little guy was going to come meet her.
She felt like his egg pulsed with a little more life with each passing day, and his once vibrant, ruby red coloring with smoky edges to his tips had transitioned into something much, much darker. Not quite black, but definitely heading there.
Ukrah wasn’t particularly worried that no one knew what her scarlet egg was holding. That didn’t matter to her. After all, Eist had ended up with a dragon that no one had known about and apparently one of her closest friends had had an incredibly rare purple dragon, which was only born every few generations.
Although Ukrah had never met that friend or heard Eist talk about them. Perhaps they’d died in the war? It didn’t seem like something she should ask about. If Eist had wanted her to know, surely she would have said so in their months together.
“So, I don’t think many people are buying that I’m here to translate for you,” Crispin said as they walked back from the cafeteria one night.
“That’s probably because you never actually translate.”
“Well, how am I supposed to do that? I don’t know your language and you’ve got that bird translating for you, don’t you?”
Ukrah stopped dead in her tracks. “Pardon?”
“Aw, come on, let’s not play oblivious. It took me a while to put it all together, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Is that a…familiar thing? Or is he just special?”
Just when Ukrah thought she had some secrets, that she had some small corner of her world pinned down and all to herself, someone always seemed to figure it out.
“I don’t know, to be honest. He appeared one day and that was pretty much that.”
“Huh. That’s something.”
She nodded. “But if he’s a familiar, he’s not like any that I read about. Usually those are just supposed to protect their witch and maybe be a conduit for power, or at least I think that’s what Cassinda explained to us, but Tayir isn’t like that at all.”
Are the two of you talking to me like I’m not right here in your knapsack?
“Well, if you don’t like it, why don’t you tell us what you are,” Crispin retorted before his annoyed expression turned to one of shock. “Wait. I understood him. Like really understood him. That’s never happened before.”
Huh, well, what do you know. You really are an interesting fellow, aren’t you? I’m rather glad Ukrah saved your life.
“You and me both.” He laughed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a bird. Ya think we should tell Cassinda about this?”
“Huh? Why would we?”
“Well, she writes to us every week. It’s only polite.”
“I don’t think there’s any rules in etiquette about having to tell an acquaintance that you’re regularly stalked by a talking bird that no one else can hear.”
“An acquaintance? That’s all you think Cassinda is?”
Ukrah blinked at him. “Why? Is she more than that to you?”
“I dunno. I just thought since that whole watching her take out a bunch of assassins and then that whole eavesdropping thing you told me about, that you guys might have grown close.”
“If I was more like you, then perhaps.”
“More like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ukrah chuckled at his dramatically suspicious tone. “You make friends very easily. You know that.”
A crooked grin lit up his features. “I do have a certain sort of charm, I’ve been told.”
“Oh yes, I am sure of that much.”
They slipped into more idle conversation as they moved through the academy. They were almost to where they would turn to reach the suites when Crispin held out a hand.
“You smell that?”
Ukrah looked up from where she had been digging through her pack, looking for the key to the extra locks Eist had installed on their door. She wished she didn’t need them, but something told the desert girl that Eist was right about being better safe than sorry.
“Is that…pee?”
“Yeah, but it’s not human. It’s either cow or dragon.” Grabbing one of the torches on the side of the hall, he brought it to the middle to reveal a large puddle of liquid.
“That’s disgusting,” Ukrah groaned. “Is there any chance that this is an accident?”
“I… I wish it was, but I’m thinking no.”
Ukrah let out a frustrated sound—how could she not—and if she was younger, she might have stomped her feet. But she managed to stay relatively still, her fingernails biting into the palms of her hand.
There was the sound of laughter, and suddenly, a door opened behind them. Ukrah turned just in time to see none other than Melithindre and her little horde spill out into the hall.
“Really?” she asked them, the only word that came to mind.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. An entire diatribe in her native tongue wanted to force its way out of her mouth, but it would be wasted on the likes of them.
“Oh, what happened here?” Melithindre asked innocently, batting those absurdly innocent eyes of hers. “Did you have an accident?”
“Come on now,” Crispin said, turning to them with one of the most annoyed expressions that she’d seen him wear in ages. “This is utterly ridiculous, guys.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
The girl smirked and one of her lackies came forward to say something Ukrah didn’t understand.
“What does that mean?” Ukrah asked Crispin, knowing that it was an insult but not understanding what he was actually trying to convey.
“Nothing!” Crispin said, his face going red. “Look, all of you need to get out of here. This is going too far, and I’m not gonn—”
“What, you mean little pampered desert girl finally needs something translated for her? Go on, Crispin, you tell her exactly what—” The woman repeated the phrase with a different emphasis and twang to it that Ukrah just couldn’t catch, then one of the boys next to her added onto that.
And then suddenly everything exploded.
Or at least it felt that way. One moment, Crispin was standing next to her, staring them down, and the next, he had closed the distance and was slugging one of the guys across the face.
Oh.
It was like she was plunged into a memory, one she hadn’t allowed herself to visit in years, and yet she could see it as clear as day—an abomination a few feet away from her, her leg bleeding from several teeth marks, her mother in front of her, a scythe in hand.
All the details of the moment swamped her, filling her with emotions that she hadn’t been expecting, as she watched the mess of six students swarm Crispin, Melithindre just standing there, smirking with her arms crossed.
She had just laid there back when she was a child, cold and quickly losing consciousness, until her mother had managed to kill the beast. She had been so sure that they were safe then, but when she had awoken, her mother’s body had been next to her, long dead.
She wouldn’t let that happen. Not again.
One of the boys managed to get a grip on Crispin’s arms, pulling the thin boy into a hold while another circled around his front to punch him in his stomach. That wouldn’t do at all.
&nbs
p; Ukrah set her egg to the side, patting the top of it as she placed him in his harness against the wall, then rushed the group.
For once, it felt good to know what she was doing as she did it, her mind driving her actions instead of some unknown force giving her terrifying powers. She slid into the student holding Crispin’s arms, hitting the back of his right knee with her heel. He went down hard, letting go of her friend, and she yanked him out of the way.
“What are you—”
That was the boy who had been about to punch Crispin’s stomach. She lunged forward and used her momentum to bring her fist up just under his chin.
He too crumbled like a bag of bricks. She had a feeling that these young ones, while they had been training a year longer than her, had never been in a fight for their life before. They didn’t live in the wilds, with abominations and beasts and bandits and slavers. They had been coddled, protected, and while Ukrah was no expert fighter, she certainly was more equipped than any of them.
A girl leapt at her, scratching at her face, so Ukrah just bit her hand as hard as she could. Naturally, the girl shrieked, but the desert girl didn’t have a chance to chop her hand at her throat before fingers buried in her hair and yanked her backwards.
It hurt, but it wasn’t that bad, so she reached behind her to grab the wrist belonging to the hand accosting her, then bent. It was enough of an angle that she was able to twist and thrust herself back, headfirst.
She felt someone’s breastbone connect with her scalp. Ouch, a bit higher than she had hoped, but it was still enough for them to topple to the floor.
“Stay down!” she ordered to the girl, placing her foot on her middle. She glanced to Crispin to see him standing there, looking a little stunned. “Melithindre, why don’t you call your little flock off? This isn’t doing either of us any good.”
Ukrah had hoped that the woman might be a little contrite, but the blonde just looked at her levelly. “Of course, the barbarian would turn this into a brawl.”
Crispin drew in a sharp breath like he was going to argue, but Ukrah just held up her hand. “Come on, there’s no point. Let’s just go back to our room. I’ll make sure that the cleaning staff finds out who they have to thank for all this extra work.”