Blood Ties

Morwyn hummed absently to herself as they walked along the winding riverside path that led to high end of the Vale. She hadn't found the opportunity to explore much apart from the forest immediately surrounding her cabin in the three weeks since their arrival so she tried to commit each landmark to memory along the way. During their orientation to the Vale they'd each been given a map of the valley, which of course she'd studied diligently, but it was another thing entirely to witness it in person. Each improbable formation of stone took her breath away. No amount of parchment and ink could do justice to this garden of the gods.

“Miss Morwyn, do you think anyone from our caravan will be chosen?” an excited Samuel, his eyes as wide as his gap-toothed grin, said as he tugged at her sleeve. She laughed and tousled the boy's sweaty hair before rolling up the black fabric to expose her forearms to the breeze. Though the early autumn nights were comfortable and cool, the midday sun was still quite warm outside the shade of the great trees lower in the valley.

“I don't know, Sam. They might not choose anyone... but maybe they'll choose you!” she replied. Lily gave her a look of concern and Morwyn saw her grip her son's hand a bit more tightly.

“I, for one, wouldn't mind if Samuel didn't have to be part of such a tradition,” she grumbled. “I understand why they do it, but I can't stand the thought of him being so high up in the sky...”

“I thought it was voluntary,” Hazel chimed in with confusion. “Didn't they say so during our orientation?”

Lily lowered her voice and covered her son's ears as they walked.

“Yes, but I don't have the heart to deny him. He's so excited about the dragons and with George and William gone, I just... I want him to be happy. Even if it brings me a great deal of stress.”

Unsure of how else to respond, Morwyn simply nodded in understanding as they continued their march. She'd never given any thought to having a child of her own, but even the idea of her nieces and nephews marching in line before a clutch of dragon eggs made her shiver. It wasn't long before they made the final ascent up a steeper part of the trail and were finally at the shore of the lake.

The light soil and low shrubbery of the Upper Vale gave way to a wide belt of dunes laced with clumps of tall grasses that fluttered in the breeze. Thick reeds lined long sections of the water's edge while others were bare of vegetation entirely. High above on the far side of the lake Morwyn got her first good look at the water's source and took in a sharp breath at the sight. An immense volume of crystal clear water rushed forth between the jaws of a gargantuan stone dragon and fell for such a distance that it left a heavy mist in the air for hundreds of yards beyond. The monument was so detailed and lifelike that she stared for a long moment to see if it would move or blink.

“Please stand together in front of the dais,” Eronir called out loudly as the group came to a hesitant halt in front of him. He was dressed sharply in a dark green tunic trimmed with leaves and vines of fine gold thread and held a long wooden box beneath one arm. Lady Trux stood beside him holding a matching box. She was dressed in similarly extravagant clothing of rich blue and silver and looked quite uncomfortable to be in such finery. “Once the others are seated, we shall commence the Hatching!”

Morwyn was so entranced by the river's source that she hadn't noticed the rows of benches to either side of a large central platform of sandstone blocks decorated with intricate inscriptions in a language that she couldn't comprehend. The carvings of dragons, however, were quite unambiguous.

“Do you think we could get a spot toward the front?” Hazel asked her, looking a bit put-out. “I can't see a damn thing from back here!”

“I could describe it to you in great detail if you like,” Morwyn said with a chuckle. “Or I could put you on my shoulders. Whichever suits your dignity.”

Hazel let out a discontented huff and bumped Morwyn's thigh with her hip.

“Let's at least go to the side. I don't want to miss a thing!”

Morwyn soon found herself standing beside Yvonne at the left edge of their loose arrangement while Hazel stood close in front of her. The elf gave them both a welcoming nod but seemed preoccupied and a bit despondent.

“Everything alright?” Morwyn whispered to her.

“I suppose so. I was a little disappointed when Eronir said that they typically bond with children...” Yvonne's voice trailed off as she scanned the skies to either side. “What about you? Are you going to take the walk?”

“Oh, no,” Morwyn chuckled wryly. “I've got far too much going on to even think about it. Between studying for work and training with Argoth, I'm swamped.”

“Bollocks,” Hazel said sternly, looking over her shoulder with a frown. “Master Kerren's lessons are child's play for you, and you still have plenty of energy left for me after exercising with the old man. What's the harm in trying?”

“I still haven't started working on my magic with Rennock yet,” Morwyn replied as a blush crept into her cheeks. “I just don't think it would be a good idea to invite another competing priority into my life.”

And I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile, not making a spectacle of myself...

Yvonne glanced over the other two women with a smirk but quickly returned to her gaze to the sky as a flight of dragons approached from the north, over the rim of the valley above the waterfall. The hubbub of conversation about them settled down and they watched on with anticipation as Rennock and Hela broke off from the formation to land on either side of the sandstone dais. The ground shook with each impact. Morwyn wondered just how long that would take to grow accustomed to. She certainly hadn't yet.

Eight of the other dragons, notably absent their bonded riders, descended more carefully and placed their precious cargo into a long trench made of piled stones that ran the length of the platform from one end to the other. Each of the large eggs matched the hue of their bearer's scales with one exception. Though Shivara's matte black scales seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, she bore an egg of iridescent silver that glittered beautifully in the sunlight.

Once the eggs were reverently secured, each of the great beasts stepped back and settled down on their haunches to watch the proceedings with guarded poise. Rennock and Hela turned slowly toward one another and, with surprisingly delicate aim, loosed thin streams of white flame over the eggs cradled within the trench from either end, combining in the middle and roaring upward. Waves of heat shimmered in the air above them even after their red-hot shells slowly returned to their original colors.

“The volunteers may approach,” Hela addressed them, her grumbling draconic voice a sharp contrast to the silken tone of her human form.

There was a moment of tense hesitation where nobody moved and they all seemed to collectively hold their breath as they waited for someone else to be the first. Yvonne muttered under her breath and suddenly stepped forward, nearly tripping over her own feet before she caught herself and carried on with deliberate slowness. All eyes turned to her as the elf, alone and very afraid, approached the dais. Sweat broke out on her face as she ascended the short flight of stone steps and she shielded her face from the heat with one arm. She turned to her right and stepped in front of each of the eggs in turn, pausing for a long moment before moving on to the next. Morwyn watched on with bated breath, gripping Hazel's shoulders a bit too tightly as she did so, but the halfling was just as entranced by the display and didn't seem to mind.

When she reached the fourth, one of brilliant copper shade and slightly larger than the rest, the elf gasped aloud as it suddenly lurched and clacked against the stones as it began to rock urgently back and forth. Morwyn's heart leapt into her throat when Yvonne slowly raised one shaking hand and placed it atop the egg, which surely should have scorched her flesh to the bone... yet the elf's hand remained unblemished as the shell quivered and cracked beneath it. A piece of shell fell away, then another, then Yvonne knelt before it and began to carefully pry away larger sections that dripped with a thick slime. Though Yvonne's body blocked most of her view, Morwyn could just make out the flutter of leathery wings and the glimmer of coppery scales.

Yvonne carefully scooped up the slippery, wriggling creature and turned around, her expression one of pure adoration and pride as she cradled the newborn dragonling. It seemed to Morwyn as if the weight of the world had lifted from her friend's shoulders in an instant. She positively glowed with joy and wonder as she laughed and tickled the creature beneath its jaw and nuzzled its blunt snout with the tip of her nose.

The adult dragon behind them, whose scales matched that of the newborn, craned her long neck to investigate Yvonne with a curious sniff and a nudge on the shoulder. Apparently satisfied with what she sensed, the dragon raised her head and let out a long, lilting, keening sound from deep in her chest, followed by impressive plumes of dark orange flames bursting out from both of her nostrils. Morwyn watched on with wide-eyed fascination and a heady rush of pride for Yvonne, paying little mind to the crowd as the others around her beginning to cheer and murmur excitedly amongst themselves.

At some prompting that Morwyn couldn't make out, Yvonne turned and followed the larger dragon off of the back end of the platform and to the edge of the lake to bathe the grimy newborn in the crystal clear water. The adorable cries of protest from the little beast made Morwyn's heart flutter for a moment.

After such an impressive showing many others seemed to find their courage and lined up to take the same walk as Yvonne, with the new arrivals at the front and those from the Vale following close behind. Morwyn was glad to see that, though he was disappointed by the result, none hatched for Samuel. She chuckled at the look of weary relief on Lily's face as she ushered her protesting son to move along. Two more eggs hatched for youths that took the walk, one a gnomish girl from the caravan and the other a human boy of the Vale, and a third hatched on its own. When the last of the volunteers exited the stage Eronir and Trux made their way the three new dragon-bonded and gave them something out of the strange boxes that they carried, though what it was Morwyn couldn't see.

The remaining eggs sat dormant in the trench of hot stones. While the mothers of those yet unhatched displayed mild disappointment as they collected their eggs and soared back into the mountains, Shivara remained still and was completely unreadable even for a dragon. She sat coiled and motionless behind the shining silver egg except for the occasional slow blink and flick of her wickedly spiked tail. Argoth walked up beside her and laid a hand on Shivara's side, his expression one of disappointment and condolence that piqued Morwyn's curiosity.

“Can we go to them yet?” Hazel asked, taking Morwyn's hand and nearly jumping out of her boots with excitement. “I want to congratulate Yvonne and Giselle!”

“I'm not sure.... Did Rennock say anything? Or Hela?” Morwyn replied distractedly, her eyes still on Argoth as he spoke to Shivara. Something about their interaction captured her attention but she couldn't quite place it. It looked as if he was trying to convince her of something but she wasn't having it. Her nostrils flared and thick black smoke rose from them but she refused to move. The silver egg sat alone in the trench, unmoving, with waves of heat still radiating from its shell.

“Hello? Are you alright, dear?”

Morwyn cocked her head to one side, still unable to look away.

“I don't know,” she replied wistfully, squeezing Hazel's hand. “There's something going on with those two, but I don't quite...”

Morwyn's voice trailed off as she realized that Shivara was not looking at the egg, but beyond it and through the milling crowd, directly at her. Those eerie black orbs, though hardly distinguishable from the rest of the dragons face except for their shine, were unmistakably locked on her. Watching. Waiting. Shivara tilted her massive head to the side ever so slightly as if listening intently for something but she continued to watch Morwyn like a hawk. She nearly quailed before the dragon's gaze, but was instead fascinated by it, almost hypnotized by it... and then she heard it. Softly at first, then growing with intensity until it was the only sound in the world. Not the crowd, not Hazel's voice, not the mewing of dragonlings, not the rumbling vocalizations of their parents in the background could overshadow the valiant little sound in her head.

A heartbeat.

The rhythm of the pulse was a twin to her own, rising as hers did at her awareness of its existence. Morwyn's eyes immediately dropped from Shivara's to the silvery-white shell of the last remaining egg and she knew in her heart that it had to be the source. She focused on it to the exclusion of everything else and took a few tentative steps, her hand pulling free from Hazel's. She bumped into others in the crowd as she pushed forward. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. She had to get to the egg, to be close to it, to touch it, to understand it. Morwyn had never felt such a compulsion before and could do nothing to resist it. She didn't want to resist it.

Some dim part of her awareness recognized that someone was pulling at her arm but it didn't anger her. She simply ignored it and pressed forward with her eyes always on the egg, not even blinking for fear she might lose sight of the precious thing. Eventually the grip on her arm released and the vague and indistinct bodies of those remaining between her and the dais parted before her. With every step the heartbeat grew louder and louder until it thundered in her chest, in her mind, throughout her entire being, from within the egg. It consumed her attention entirely. She didn't even register a change in temperature as she vaulted on to the stage, didn't notice the beads of sweat that ran down her face, her neck, her arms. The egg was all that mattered.

A dark shadow loomed over Morwyn as Shivara stood up on all fours, her wings spread wide, her sleek black head held high as she stared down at her... but that didn't matter either. Despite the fact that Shivara was large enough to crush a rhino mole between her massive jaws with ease, Morwyn ignored the dragon and placed her hand atop the object that so captivated her.

The shell was smooth and cool to the touch despite the scorching stones upon which it rested. She could feel the now frantic heartbeat within it through her palm and sensed... yearning? Fear? She could now hear little claws scratching away at the inside of the egg with increasing desperation. It rocked ever so slightly beneath her hand but didn't crack as the others had. Something was wrong. It needed her help.

Morwyn knelt before the egg and drew her knife. She heard a muted shout of alarm and the clamoring of several individuals behind her, but Shivara let loose a sudden and savage roar that rattled her bones and everything fell silent once more save for the frantic little heartbeat. For the first time since she'd been overcome by the need to reach the egg, Morwyn looked up. She met the dragon's intense gaze as Shivara stretched her neck down and paused several feet above her. She blinked once, slowly nodded, then raised her head again to look over Morwyn's back toward the crowd with her tail whipping to and fro. Swallowing hard, Morwyn looked back down to the marbled surface of the egg and raised her knife.

“Moonmother, guide me...” she prayed, then urged her magic into the blade.

Not the frost this time, and certainly not the frightful blood that she'd imprisoned so deeply within herself, but the light of her goddess' blessing. Rather than gold as she expected, the blade of her knife shone a brilliant white in the shadow of the black dragon. She felt no desire for violent release from this magic, but rather a calmness that steadied her mind and her racing pulse. The heartbeat within the egg also slowed and the desperate scratching, though it didn't cease, was less insistent.

Morwyn drew in a deep breath and slowly brought her blade down on top of the egg with great care. It punctured through the hard shell with some difficulty and she fought to draw it down the side without cutting in too deeply. When she reached the bottom she repeated the same motion in a different direction as if she were carving a slice from an apple. When that painstaking work was complete, she dropped her knife and wedged her fingers inside of the gap she'd created. There was still a small section at the bottom of the egg she hadn't been able to cut, but when she heaved with all her might, the wedge slowly bent outward like the petal of a flower unfolding.

The sight that greeted her took Morwyn's breath away.

The head of a slimy little dragonling, smaller than any of the others and covered with iridescent silver scales similar to its shell, bobbed uncertainly at the end of a slender neck. It snaked its way out of the gap in the shell and worked its jaws open and closed several times before finally letting a long, forked tongue loose to taste the air. Its wobbly head turned upward toward her and it cocked to the side curiously, gazing at her with big eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day.

Mama?

Smiling at the tiny voice inside her head, Morwyn reached out a tentative hand toward the little creature. It sniffed her glove experimentally, nibbled at the leather for a moment, then nuzzled into her palm. Tears of elation streamed down Morwyn's face as she reached both hands into the shell and helped the baby dragon out of the gap she'd created. It tumbled into her arms and the thick slime coating it seeped into her new shirt but she didn't care in the least. She gently cradled the little dragon, treasuring the now steady rhythm of its heart beating against her chest.

Mama?

Yes, little one, Morwyn thought back softly as she wiped her eyes and beamed at the shining little creature. I suppose I am...

Movement from above them drew Morwyn's attention and she looked up quickly. The newborn followed suit, mimicking her and nearly toppling out of her arms as struggled to control its ungainly body. Shivara reared back on her hindquarters and raised her open mouth to the sky. Rather than any sort of fire, a bolt of lightning as black as the void leapt from her mouth and forked upward with a terrible, wailing screech and the clap of thunder. She slammed back down onto all fours and looked down at Morwyn with her vicious fangs bared in what she now understood to be a smile.

A mother knows, a new voice spoke in her mind. It was deep and velvety soft in a way that made Hela's seem positively coarse in comparison, matronly yet laced with unspeakable power. I told him that today was the day. A mother knows.

Confused and frightened, Morwyn looked up at the black dragon as she cradled the wriggling newborn protectively.

“Who... What...” Morwyn stuttered aloud. Shivara shook her head from side to side and she felt the sensation of mirth from the dragon as Argoth stepped forward, his one crimson eye rimmed with tears. He knelt in front of her, reached out with one big finger to tickle the dragonling's belly, then wrapped both Morwyn and the newborn in an unexpectedly gentle embrace.

“You ain't got any idea what this means to her. To us,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion in a way that Morwyn had never seen. “Thank you. And welcome to the world, little one! Morwyn here is gonna take good care of you, I know it.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Argoth released them both and rose to his feet, offering her a hand. Morwyn's legs shook and her entire body felt weak but with his help she was able to rise while maintaining her grip on the slippery little beast.

Come, Shivara instructed her gently. We must bathe the babe in the lake. Pay no mind to the stares.

As usual, when prompted not to look Morwyn couldn't help herself. There was no cheering as hundreds of people watched on in shock and disbelief. The members of her caravan seemed to be quite confused at the reaction of the others but even they held their excitement in check to not break the heavy silence. The other dragons watched on in quietly as well, though they seemed to emanate a quiet pride and satisfaction. Rennock looked to be especially pleased, grinning his dragon grin and bowing his great golden head to her, though Hela's inscrutable stare held none of the warmth of her brother's. The way her head tracked Morwyn as she stepped away sent a shiver down her spine.

“Argoth,” Morwyn murmured with quiet concern as she followed him down the back side of the dais and to the edge of the lake, “I don't understand... why are they acting like this? Did I do something wrong?”

The big orc chuckled as he helped her wrangle the protesting dragonling and wash the slime from its wings and shimmering scales.

“You've done something that hasn't been seen since before the Great War.”

A long-awaited joy, Shivara interjected as she splashed into the lake, sending a gentle wave toward them with a swish of her tail. The others doubted me, but I knew. A mother knows.

“What exactly is it that I've done?” Morwyn asked insistently as she washed carefully between the newborn's wickedly sharp claws, careful to avoid it's snapping teeth. When the dragonling was clean she lifted it from the water and once again held it to her chest. It huffed in indignation before curling its neck around hers and coming to rest, its little torso rising and falling softly against her.

“You've just hatched a mithral dragon,” he said gravely. “The last of her kind.”

Morwyn's eyes went wide and she glanced down at the snoozing dragonling. It- or she, since Argoth seemed to be certain- was so small, so delicate in comparison to even the other newborns. Morwyn felt a sudden and fierce protectiveness wash over her, far stronger than she'd ever felt before. Not even when her sisters had given birth had she felt such an overpowering instinct to protect another being. In that moment she knew she would do anything to protect this beautiful little bundle of claws and fangs.

That makes two of us, little one, she directed her thoughts privately to her bonded dragon. So much for keeping a low profile...