A Shade of Dragon 2(3)

Einhen grimaced. “Then it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of the stars’ alignments. They are not conducive to our victory in a war; even the skirmishes shall be lost.”

The fire dragons had been military lords for the past half century. How could a small sect of ice dragons at the very tip of the island infiltrate and maintain its foothold, much like the icy thorn it was?

“You know that I trust the motions and maneuvers of the heavenly bodies,” I told Einhen. “Yet I contradict them today. We will persevere, Einhen, with the hearts and minds of good men at our disposal. We will find favor again.”

Einhen nodded. “Of course; it is the nature of a future king to believe the utmost of his people, and their abilities.”

I quirked a brow at him. “Would you be willing to join a small troop setting off this morning for the city? There are three of us. Myself, Khem, and a young woman—who is, in truth, as strategically-minded as any ice dragon, fully equipped with all the manipulation and brutality of their ilk.”

“You will need more. In a cosmic climate such as we find ourselves this cycle, it is unwise to travel without the aid of, at the very least, one seer.”

“Then you agree that you are the wise choice?”

Still, he hesitated. Many men of our priesthood were non-violent sorts who shied away from warfare, preferring quiet lives within temples or among the retinue of the king himself. Einhen had been living safely since his pubescence among the bone-casters and dream interpreters of the court of Erisard.

“Yes,” he said. “I will be faithful to your will until the end of the age. As long as the fire gods have graced the dynasty of Aena with leadership, I will trust them and you.”

To this, I bowed, clapped Einhen on the shoulder and asked him, “What will you carry into battle, should we find it necessary?”



 



I went to see my mother one final time. She was crumpled, seeming as frail as a dead bird, on one of the narrow cots in the women’s resting area. Michelle was in the very back of the resting area, having been one of the first women to claim a bed for herself—of course.

I knelt first at Mother’s cot. Her chest rose and fell deeply; she emitted the softest snore. Her hair fell over her face and obscured one eye from view. I did not wish to wake her. She’d likely been asleep for only an hour or two; if I woke her, the odds were decent that she would simply stand, dress, and begin her day anew. I was positive she had been awake all night.

“I love you, Mother,” I whispered, touching her shoulder and leaning to grace one cheek with a kiss.

She murmured and turned deeper into her pillow.

“I will return to you.” With that, I wove between the other cots, traveling deeper into the small nest of slumbering fire dragon females—none under the age of forty—until I reached our single visitor, Michelle Ballinger.

She was sprawled proudly over the cot, like a mountain lion across a flat, sun-drenched rock. The blanket someone had given her had been kicked onto the floor, and she was snoring loudly enough that the cots surrounding her had been vacated, creating a halo of empty beds to frame hers.

I was not nearly so gentle with her. Leaning down, I gave her shoulder a shake. “Lady Ballinger.”

Her snore stammered and resumed.

“Lady Ballinger!”

Michelle’s sooty, smudged eyes popped open and narrowed to slits. “What?” she snapped.

“We must be off,” I informed her testily. “If you would rather stay here, I understand. When I return in two to three days’ time, I will take you to the portal and return you home safely. Would you prefer to continue your nap?”

Michelle sat up straight and examined me from beneath lowered, spiky lashes. “I’m sure you’d love that. But I think I will come. Just let me get my shoes back on.”

Sighing, I turned and rooted in the satchel for the fur I’d commandeered for her: a large stole comprised of bright copper and black pieces stitched together.

I should’ve pretended I wanted her to come. Then her contrary nature would not have allowed it, and she would have declined the invitation to join us. Just look at her. Back on Earth, she’d had the world splayed at her feet. She was the heiress of two palaces of her own. But did she desire them? No. She thrust off her destiny and stowed away in mine, craving bloodshed and battle for some inexplicable reason.

“Here,” I said, draping the furs over her shoulders.

“Ew!” she cried, nose wrinkled.

“These furs will keep you from freezing to death.”

Her countenance brightened; her hands moved to stroke the pelt. “Legit furs?” she purred. “Thank you, Theon.”