Here There be Dragons: Testing the Waters

Aella stood outside, her feet cold in the slush. The throne room had been closing in on them in the worst way, the buzz of the gathered nobility too much to bear. But the weather was worse. The day was cold, damp, but cloudless, the slush was wet and the wind was biting. It was unpleasant enough, just being outside, but to have all the nobles gathered, shivering in their finery, no one daring to utter words against the king who “invited” them outside. They all knew it was an order, even the children.

The babies, at least, were spared the cold. Servants had brought cloaks and heavy boots for all the young ones, and the babies had been whisked inside by their nursemaids. Still, even Egaz was expected to be outside. He was clutching Nereida, frightened by all the people. Alejo stood protectively next to them both, his chin up, his expression fierce. Basiano singling him out as a healer had given the boy a bit of confidence.

They were gathered around a large, unlit pyre. Camina was on the top, dressed in the dress she would have worn to the coronation, a red velvet overdress that matched her father’s jacket, a white frock and petticoat. A thin gold circlet sat on her head, and she was positioned as if simply sleeping. A laced veil covered her face. She held a bouquet of silk flowers, for no real flowers bloomed mid winter. Nereida was staring at the wood, carefully not looking at the girl who had died in her care. It was so clear that Camina was just a girl, her hair in twin braids. Aella’s heart hurt as she looked at the girl, and for a moment, her traitorous mind put Epelda’s face on the dead girl. She shook her head to clear the awful image, praying with all her heart that it was only fear, and not a vision of what was to come.

There was a man in black, who stepped forward. His hood was drawn, but Aella could see his red beard beneath the heavy cloak. He bowed low to Basiano. The King nodded his head, and looked up at his daughter.

“Do it.” His words echoed in the open courtyard. The man, who Aella assumed was the Ash Minder, or Ash Shaper or whatever it was Nereida had once called it, began to dance. The fire he called up was a strange blue colour, and even at fifty paces Aella could feel the heat of it. Nobles shifted back, some muttering in fear and worry. Aella caught someone whispering in fear that “does he plan to kill us all?” She tried to see who it was, but there were easily a hundred faces, and she could not match the voice.

The strange blue fire engulfed the pyre, and it began to burn. The heat of it was intense. Alejo scurried back, his earlier bravery gone in the face of so much fire. Nereida stared at the pillar of fire tears streaking down her face, but the daft siren did not step back. That much heat and flame was not good for her, and Aella reached forward, grabbing her wife’s hand and pulling her back. Priscilla began to sob in Basiano’s arms, her cries of “my baby” echoing over the gathered folk. Most of the mothers present grabbed their own children, holding them tight.

“Camina perished to an assassin’s blade,” Basiano said, his voice booming over the roar of the flame. “I beg the gods to give me a sign that her death was not for nothing.” At his words, Aella noticed something red in the flames, glittering and shining. The egg! “Pray with me, my people!” No one could argue with the king’s request, and one by one, all the nobles gathered began to take a knee, many of them whispering prayers. A funeral song lifted from a small ensemble of singers who were positioned behind the pyre, giving the illusion that fire was singing. Many of the nobles began singing as well, the song clearly one they all knew. Aella dropped to one knee too, not to pray, but because she felt a great wave of magic. Nereida knelt beside her, softly encouraging the boys to do so as well. The gathered nobles, all united in purpose, were offering up the smallest bit of their magic without knowing it! Aella looked up through the flames, her skin burning not with heat but with magic, and saw the egg start to glow. The egg was drawing on all of them! Aella pulled Alejo into her arms as the boy was starting to sing.

“Don’t,” she whispered quietly. “Don’t sing, crewman.” Her voice trembled, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or magic, but she was not willing to find out. “Egaz, you too! Only fire can grow fire.” Magic then, but she was willing to surrender to it to keep her boys, her wife, safe.

There was a flash as the fire, before simply burning, began to rage, making a pillar of fire up taller than any mast, as if the fire was trying to touch the stars themselves that twinkled above them. Aella was nearly sick to her stomach as the magic crashed into her, a magic born of grief and pain. She felt the Moon stir inside her, responding to the emotions she knew so well. Soon, those not singing were actively weeping, caught in the grief and power, unable to stop, even if they did not know Camina. Aella pulled Alejo in tighter, shielding him with her body as if she could stop the waves of magic from affecting him. Priscilla’s wails quieted as the fire’s roar drowned out everything. The heat of it forced most to look away, but Aella forced herself to look. Something was happening here, and she knew she needed to see.

The fire rushed inward, collapsing as it no longer had fuel to sustain itself. But Aella saw a spark, the size of a child’s fist, fly off toward the castle. It moved with purpose, avoiding the stone railings, and flying into an open window.

“What’s that way?” she asked Alejo softly, the only one who’d hear her over the wailing. The boy looked where she pointed.

“I dunno. I’m not allowed over there.” He shivered as if he was suddenly cold. She ruffled his hair and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Someone cried out, and Aella looked up from her son, to see that in the ash was the dragon’s egg. It was bigger than it had been before, bigger than Damara’s egg ever had been. The size of a small toddler, the egg was glowing with light and heat. A line of gold went around it, as if the gold circlet was now melted into the egg’s shell. Basiano was holding his wife, laugh-crying hysterically. No one dared to move, the King and his Queens lost in grief. Someone in the crowd cried the fateful words “it's a miracle!” Aella felt a violent urge to be sick again, but she swallowed it. Had Basiano planned this in his grief? It seemed impossible. But then she looked up at Caleb, the one-handed noble holding his sobbing husband, and saw a look of guilt on the man’s face. Maybe it had not been the King, but his other hand.

After a long moment, where no one knew what to do, Basiano gained control of his body enough to pick his way through the ash. He scooped up the egg into his arms. It burned his clothing, but not his body. Salamanders were nearly impervious to fire. He did not utter any words, but held his hand out to his wives, who both joined him in the ashes. Each woman placed a hand on the shell. A roaring cheer rose out of the gathered nobles. Aella could not breathe. She had visions, then, washing over her in waves. The Dragon of the Stars looming over the kingdom of Lagrias, his wings outstretched to cover the whole of the kingdom. If he stood alone, he consumed the land. But if he stood with another, a small, child-shaped flame that burned white, then the kingdom bloomed like a flower.

Aella was on the ground, cold slush soaking into her jacket as Alejo shook her.

“Mom,” his voice was terrified. “Get up!”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice hoarse as if she’d been screaming. People had scattered away from them, and Basiano’s immediate family was nowhere to be seen. She forced herself to stand. Everything hurt. Her clothing was soaked with slush. People were fleeing the courtyard, the word “miracle” floating around from dozens of different voices. Aella found Caleb in the chaos, still holding his husband and children, as if he were rooted to the spot. She made eye contact with the man, and mouthed, “what did you do?” He paled and looked away from her, burying his face in his husband’s neck. Just when she was starting to forgive the bastard.

Nereida’s arms were suddenly around her.

“Vision,” Aella whispered, an explanation to her sudden fainting spell. She felt ridiculous, and could taste mud. She wiped her mouth as best as she could. Nereida’s smile was watery, and there was worry burning in her stormy eyes.

“What did you see?”

“Damnation or salvation… and I think it's up to Basiano which path we walk.” She leaned into Nereida, brushing their cheeks together gently. “Nothing that can be solved now.” She hesitated a moment, before adding, “I need to talk to Caleb. I’ll explain later tonight.” She hoped her wife understood that she meant once there were not little ears about.

“Go,” Nereida replied, breaking apart from their tender embrace. She looked down at their children. “Come on boys, nearly bedtime. Let’s go read a bit, get your minds off this.”

“So much fire,” Egaz muttered. “It was scary. And pretty. But mostly scary.” Nereida laughed gently, and took his hand.

“I thought so too.”

More and more people had cleared out, so Aella had a clear path to her target. Caleb saw her coming, and he whispered something to his husband. Leevan gathered their three children and headed inside, the Prince looking back over his shoulder once at Aella, worry on his face. She did not react, did not change her expression. If she was wrong, she did not want to cause more issues. Nereida’s family barely trusted her already, she did not particularly want to make things worse. And so, with that in mind, she clamped down on her instinct to shove the one-handed bastard into the wall of the castle.

“Prince Caleb,” she greeted, false pleasantry in her tone. She grinned at him wolfishly, and the man missed a step, nearly tripping over himself.

“Just Caleb to family,” he muttered, shifting on the icy cobblestone. He would not look at her. In his finery he looked like a prince. He was not wearing his military jacket either, which she thought was interesting. He belonged to Lagrias. Basiano could have, should have, reinstated him. And yet, he hadn’t.

“Are we still family?” she asked, her tone deceptively light, a trick she’d seen her wife deploy time and again. He furrowed his brow and frowned.

“Of course!”

“Then why the deception?” she motioned wildly. “After Basiano’s big truth time?”

“It had to feel real,” Caleb whispered. “That’s what the Ocean told me.” Aella stared at him, and started to ask him to explain, but he plowed on. “She came to me, using Nereida’s voice, her body, but with dragon wings. And I… I didn’t know how to say no to her.” He finally looked at her, pain on his face. “She said that the fire would help the Stars egg grow, that we could make it of the people, give it purpose and connection… that she would link the egg to the traitor’s child, so they could be raised together.” He made a face. “I… I cut her, wrapped the egg in her blood. The Ocean Dragon told me….” he let out a long, low sigh. “Once a twin, always a twin. That… that she believed that separating Stars and Shadow instead of teaching them to love each other, was what doomed her.”

Aella had not been prepared for Ocean’s hand. She let out a long, low sigh.

“Does Ner know?”

“The dragon said she’d keep it from Nerry, that she’d stop it if she could.”

“Stop what?” Aella pressed. Caleb looked down at his feet, then back up at Aella, pain on his face.

“She killed my niece,” he said. The hatred in his voice made the “she” quite clear. The Traitor. “She was family, and she got Camina killed. She would have killed Nerry and the boys…. She deserves it.”

“Deserves what, Caleb?” Aella asked, stepping closer. The man looked shocked that she had used his name, but she couldn’t keep calling him traitor in her mind. That title belonged to another now.

“The egg will hatch tonight,” he said. “With that much magic, it doesn’t need any more from me or Basi. And when the egg hatches….”

“The baby will be born?” Aella asked, her horror rising. “Caleb, it had not even quickened!”

“It’s a scion, ma’am. One that’s been drinking all of its host’s magic for days, and that just got a huge boost from the magic of all the nobles. Song, dance, tears and blood. There is nothing stronger.” He sounded angry as he spoke, and raised his injured arm, rubbing it with his good hand just above the injury site. “But the host won’t survive. Basi won’t get his revenge, just justice.” He looked haunted. “She’ll be dead by dawn.”

“Dragons’ bloody claws, Caleb.” Aella rubbed her head. She should tell Nereida. She should stop it.

But if she stopped it… maybe it wasn’t Basiano who chose the path! The thought swirled into her, painful and devastating. No twin meant darkness for the whole kingdom, an angry tyrant lizard raised as a prince. She closed her eyes. She did not dare ask for guidance here. She forced her magic inward, down, so that it was only her own mind and conscience. One traitor’s messy death in exchange for peace. The scales balanced in her favour. In everyone’s favour.

Nereida was going to be angry at her.

“Dragons imprint like ducks,” she said to Caleb. “Scions might be the same. Clear the guards out. Let her give birth alone, and have Basiano and his wives be the first people the baby sees.” She left unsaid that meant a pregnant woman would die alone, terrified and in pain. She left unsaid that the choice was monstrous. The traitor deserved no mercy or kindness. “Have them bring the newborn dragon. If the king trusts you enough for that.”

“He does,” Caleb replied bitterly, touching his scarred-over stump. “What will you tell Nerry?”

“The truth.” She took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. “Tomorrow.”