by Jada Fisher
Fior stuck his head through the window, chirping in that way she had only ever heard him be able to do. Of course, the little guy perked his head up at that and trotted over to the brindled dragon, sniffing at him then barking in approval.
“He really does just get along with everybody,” Eist said, chewing on her thumb. Ukrah wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than her rubbing her swelling stomach. “Even Fior had some people he wasn’t sure about and liked to investigate other hatchlings before befriending them.”
“He is a charming little fellow,” Crispin said, going to the front door. “Think I can let our little guy out? Seems he wants to play with his uncle.”
“Uncle? Is that how this family tree is going?” Eist chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t answer that. I was about to say that I’m too old to be an aunt, but I realize that I’m about to be a mother so…” She frowned at that. “Huh. I’m going to be a mother.”
Thankfully, Ukrah was spared from having to deal with that particular reaction as the sound of beating wings filled the air, and her little guy raced toward the door, whining and jumping at the knob. Once more, she felt the tiniest twinges of jealousy to see him reacting like that for someone besides her. Someone he had just met the previous day. She was able to dismiss it relatively quickly, however, and moved on.
The moment that Crispin opened the door for him, he did indeed bound outside, bouncing along like he could already fly. Ukrah was not surprised to see the great white dragon touching down, then Elspeth slide from her side.
Ukrah was prepared for many things to happen. In fact, she had spent almost the entire morning steeling herself to what could happen. But instead of demands to take him away, or anything like that, Elspeth went to her knees again and let little guy throw himself at her for the second time.
They hit the ground and rolled back and forth, reminding the desert girl of when she had first held her boy, and she could hear their laughter from where she was standing. A truly beautiful, melodic sound issued from the white dragon as she swung her head to the moving pair, sniffing at them as if she couldn’t believe what was in front of her.
It was actually quite touching, the three of them wrapped up in a bond that Ukrah could never know. She watched, eyes stinging, as the trio reconnected in a way that only old friends could.
Strange, she had always thought that every single dragon was different from the ones before it, that a green dragon from a long line of green dragons wouldn’t have the same memories or connections that its parents had. Because dragons weren’t very maternal or paternal at all. They trusted the care of their eggs and young to the workers and dragon riders.
And yet it was impossible to deny that her dragon seemed to know exactly who Elspeth and her white dragon were. He seemed intrinsically bound to them, just as happy to see them as they were to see him.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, just taking the scene in, but eventually, Elspeth stood, with the little guy bounding around her legs like an excited dog. In fact, he reminded Ukrah more and more of a hunting hound every day. Even just a little past a week after hatching, he looked bigger, rounder, plumping up in the way that only babies did before they had their first growth spurt.
“I apologize,” she murmured, drawing up to Ukrah, “for making that scene in the academy. I realize, now that the shock has worn off, that I might have made complications for you. I hope you know that I sincerely didn’t mean to.”
Ukrah blinked at her a moment, not sure how to react to those words. The woman was apologizing to her? What a truly strange world.
“What I want to know,” Eist said, stepping out of the doorway where she had been leaning during the touching reunion, “is how you even knew her egg had hatched. We certainly didn’t put word out.”
“Like I somewhat mentioned before, when we were in Baeldred, I just felt that the—” She paused, her pale brows furrowing. Only then did Ukrah notice that the woman had a stitched cut over her eyebrow. What had been going on during that mission? “Are… Eist. Your stomach.”
The god-woman looked down and swore. “Would you believe that I forgot about that for a moment?”
Now it was Elspeth’s turn to looked shocked and unsure. “This has… This has been a week of discoveries, hasn’t it?” It was the first time she seemed interested in something other than the little guy since she had suddenly swooped in. “Can I… Can I feel?”
Eist sighed. “Why not. It’s not like anyone else really has since we’ve been keeping this under wraps.”
The woman closed the distance between them while the little guy began playing with both Fior and the white dragon. Gently, uncertainly, her hands hovered over Eist a moment before settling over her soft dress. “Why are you keeping it a secret?”
“Why do you think?”
She nodded. “Right. That makes sense.” She took a deep breath, her eyes closing, and for the first time since she had met her, Ukrah could see all the responsibilities weighing on the woman.
Huh.
According to what Ukrah knew, Elspeth was somewhere around six hundred years old, give or take, being sixty some-odd years older than Eist’s legendary parents. That made her the oldest surviving dragon rider and the Head of the Dragon Council for almost five hundred years. She’d been through two wars, the banishment of the Blight, the defeat of it, the reformation of the entire world, and the return of magic. She’d lived through the outlawing of witches and the rise of the Church of the Three. She was a leader, a matriarch, and held onto knowledge that had long been forgotten. She was one half of a whole that had been split since well before Ukrah or even Eist were born.
How exhausting.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” the woman whispered, eyes closed with a pained yet happy expression. It was bittersweet incarnate. Melancholy, with notes of anticipation.
“What makes you so sure it’s a her?”
The woman gave a wan smile, removing her hands from Eist’s form. “Just a feeling. The W’allenhaus women have always been saviors in times of need.”
Ukrah wanted to argue that Eist already had a daughter, but she realized how presumptuous that sounded. She wasn’t a daughter. She was a charge, that was all. And she wouldn’t have even been that if Eist hadn’t sensed whatever strange magic was inside of her.
So she bit her tongue, and just moved to the side as Elspeth leaned against one of the pillars of the entryway then sank to the ground. It was bizarre to see such an illustrious figure just melt into such a casual sitting position. Like she wasn’t a vital piece of history in and of herself.
“I suppose we have a lot to talk about.”
“Do we?” Athar asked. “Seems to me th-that-that saying hello should be relatively s-s-simple.”
“I wish it were that simple.” The woman sighed, and Ukrah felt her heart lurch. “The black dragon hasn’t been reborn ever since the last one…fell. I thought perhaps it was because the line had been wiped out. Cursed or…punished, even, for what he had done.
“So, you can imagine my shock when I felt something I hadn’t in centuries. I… I can’t explain it. At first, I thought that my worst nightmare was happening. But then I realized it wasn’t like…like it had been then. It was new. Pure. It wasn’t corrupted.
“So, I immediately flew here. I was sure that I was wrong. That I was just overly tired and confused and maybe my head injury was getting to me. But then I saw you, and I knew it had to be you, and then there he was.” She took in a shuddering breath, and Ukrah tried to think of what it could be like to be Elspeth. To be in that sort of position.
She couldn’t imagine it. Nothing in her very short experience in the world really compared. And yet her heart ached anyway, attaching itself to the pain in the woman’s voice and burrowing deep within her.
It’s quite a thing, isn’t it? She really is a relic of times long past. The Three came here a thousand or so years before she was born, but she was alive when they finally realized their folly.
By then, it was too late to turn back time, of course. The things your people could learn from her if they were only willing to listen.
“I just want you to know, I am aware he’s not Vaelfangor. I understand that. But he’s also not entirely…not Vaelfangor.”
“What do you mean?” Ukrah asked, the first words she had spoken since Elspeth had arrived.
“I’m not entirely certain, because I’ve only ever known one white dragon—my own—and one black dragon, but from what I can tell, they’re not like other dragons. All white and black dragons are linked in a way. It’s not straight reincarnation, or at least I don’t think it is, but judging by my research, they share some sort of bloodline memory.”
“So…so he has all the memories of the last black dragon?” Ukrah didn’t miss the concern in Eist’s tone and the bitter tinge of fear coiled on the back of her tongue. What if her boy was already corrupted? What if he somehow brought some part of the Blight back without even meaning to? What would she do?
“No. Not all of them, I think. Just some. I’m fairly certain he knows who I am, and Sleipffynor, but not what happened in the…the end.”
“Sleipffynor?” Ukrah echoed before realizing who Elspeth was referring to. It sounded like an old name, in the common that was barely spoken on the fringes of the civilized lands and by traders in the wilds. She’d never heard the white dragon’s name spoken aloud before, and it was so cumbersome on her tongue that she wasn’t sure she could actually say it. “Oh.”
“I’m not sure if you know this, but white dragons and black dragons are always linked. Bonded for life, as it were. I’m not going to ignore that connection, and neither will Sleipffynor, but I also know that he’s a new hatchling with his own personality and life.”
“So you just want to be a part of his life,” Ukrah murmured. She could live with that. In fact, it was much nicer situation than she had expected. “You don’t want to take him?”
The woman’s eyes went wide. “Take him!? What! No. You’re his rider. That would traumatize him beyond belief. Maybe pervert the connection.” She shook her head and stood, offering her hand to Ukrah. “Consider this more of a… I don’t know if it’s entirely accurate, but this is more in-laws introducing themselves. We’re family now, and although it’s rather sudden, we really only want what’s best for him. And you, as his rider.”
“Family?” That word was coming up more and more often, and not in a negative way. She was an orphan, and a village slayer, and yet she had an entire circle of people around her that provided for her, cared for her, and generally liked to talk to her.
“I hope that’s not too assuming,” the woman continued. “And if you don’t mind, my girl would like to, uh, speak with you. As much as a dragon can speak with anyone.”
Ukrah swallowed at that. She hadn’t interacted with the white dragon since their interaction in the council room. The thought was intimidating, but she wasn’t about to tell Elspeth no.
“A-alright.”
She wasn’t expecting Crispin’s hand to wordlessly slide into hers, and she looked up at him in surprise. But he just grinned in response, face lighting up in that way only his could.
“Don’t worry. I’m here for you.”
She squeezed his hand gratefully then walked forward. The little guy and the white dragon were still occupied with each other, the younger bounding around like a very happy puppy while the elder swung her giant head back and forth gently, almost as if they were playing blind man’s bluff. They both stopped, however, as Ukrah drew closer, their eyes swinging to her and Crispin.
She stopped a little bit away from them and the little guy happily bounced over, tongue lolling out of his ruby snoot. Ukrah noticed that some of the scales around his nostrils had turned black and there was that same blushing of lavender-gray around them. It was hard to imagine that he would one day be fully black from tip to tail.
The white dragon was much more graceful in her approach. She turned her body only slightly, her long, serpentine neck bringing her head down and right in front of Ukrah.
Oh.
Once more, she was struck by the beauty of the very old, very wise beast in front of her. Her large, amethyst eyes shouldn’t have been able to convey so much, and yet they did just that. Staring through Ukrah like parchment paper.
“Wow, this is intimidating,” Crispin remarked.
In response, the white dragon huffed in his face, sending his blond hair flying back. Ukrah chuckled at that, but then suddenly the creature’s snout was pressed against her forehead, breath entirely too warm and wet over the desert girl’s hair.
The white dragon breathed deeply. In. Out. Ukrah found herself falling into the rhythm of it. It was clear she was being scented, but there was something else to it. Like if Ukrah stood still long enough, they could just meld into one being.
They were two halves of the same hole. Opposite sides of a coin. Light and darkness. Protector and nurturer. The taker and the giver.
And then, like a thought had been implanted in her mind, she realized that the white dragon had known exactly who she was from their first meeting. Before Elspeth. Before Ukrah. She had known, and she had waited ever-so-patiently.
That was certainly something to comprehend, and Ukrah let go of Crispin so that she could place her hands on either side of the white dragon’s mouth. The beautiful being wuffled gently at the contact, and they shared a moment of deep quiet and peace together.
When they finally broke apart, Ukrah realized that Elspeth had approached them. “No wonder she liked you so much. She’s always been better at reading people than I have.”
Ukrah nodded and bent down to pick up her little guy, who was winding around her feet. Already, he was getting almost too heavy for her to hold, which seemed unfair considering how long he had taken to hatch.
“Well, she’s been around a while,” Elspeth said with a laugh. “And hopefully you and, uh… What is his name anyway? I realize that I never asked.”
Ukrah almost said that she wasn’t sure yet, just out of habit. But then a word popped into her head, and she didn’t know if she had ever said anything with such certainty. “Voirdr,” she answered, looking down at her little guy. “I think… I think it means a sort of protector.”
“That’s a good name. Old tongue, just like my Sleipffynor. I have a feeling he’ll certainly grow into it.”
Ukrah hugged him close, feeling his smooth scales press into her skin. A sort of happy security filled her now that she finally knew what her charge was going to be called. Like it made him more real. “Yeah, I think so too.”
There was a quiet moment, and Ukrah felt so present in it, unlike the sort of drifting feeling of unbelonging she’d had over the past month or so at the academy. But it was quickly interrupted by the sound of beating wings as a large red dragon descended.
Ukrah watched as Ale’a practically vaulted from her dragon and bounded over.
“Elspeth, Eist,” she gasped, chest heaving. “You need to come to the academy right now.”
“We’re a bit occupied,” Eist said, ducking behind Athar. “And I’m not exactly in the position to—”
“I already know you’re pregnant,” the redhead blurted all in one breath. “Your gait changed months ago.”
“Wait, you wh—”
“We don’t have time. We need to get to the academy now. Apparently, word has gotten out about a new black dragon, and people are not happy.”
10
Through the Grapevine
Ukrah wasn’t quite sure what to expect as they flew to the academy on Estelle’s back, Athar riding with Eist in Dille’s carriage, but it certainly wasn’t a large throng of people outside the gates, banging on the wood and generally making a ruckus that could be heard from even as high up as they were.
And what she heard was anger, bitter and vile, sharp as a knife. It was a familiar sort of sound, and she was reminded of that night.
Though could she ever really forget that night?
It was written into her very bones, scratched into the fiber of her like a scroll. She would always find echoes of it as she moved through life. Or at least she would as long as there was hatred in people’s hearts for people different than them.
“It’s okay,” Crispin said softly, rubbing her arm. She didn’t know when he had gotten so tactile with her, but she certainly didn’t object. So often in life in the kingdom of Rothaiche M’or, touch seemed like a rare commodity unless it was an act of violence. Even though she had never really been beloved by her village, she still slept close with other orphans, held sick children while the crones brewed a medicine, played hand games or just sat close to each other around the fire when nights grew cold and the storyweaver’s tales grew long. Sometimes it felt like she was starving for contact in a wasteland of affection. “I’m sure Elspeth can explain everything to everyone. They’re just scared, ya know?”
Ukrah sighed, a deep and hollow sound. “I know, but I am so tired of people being scared of me.”
“I imagine Lady Ale’a goes through at least some of the same stuff.”
“I think you just imagine Lady Ale’a in general.”
Crispin cleared his throat and continued like she hadn’t said anything. “And didn’t people try to kill Lady W’allenhaus a couple times just for having magic and the like?”
“Yeah. And she still saved them.” Ukrah wondered how gracious young Eist was, because she didn’t think she would be as gracious if put into a similar situation.
“Exactly. And she became a hero for all people.”
“And had a group of them try to attack her at our nameday celebration.”
“You know, I’m trying to comfort you here. You don’t have to make my job more difficult.”
Ukrah gave a bit of a chuckle at that. She was probably being a bit mean, but it did make her feel better to tease the tall, skinny boy. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but she liked the way the top of his cheekbones would flush pink, making all his freckles darken.