14-60. You Again
“How delightfully primitive,” came a stage whisper that cut across the meadow. “Perhaps it is some unevolved, half-scale mating ritual. Such a shame that someone so refined would fall into that trap.”
Kaela missed a step, but Elijah caught her waist, turning it into a graceful dip. Thankfully, she had plenty of dexterity to pull it off, and the rest of their dance went off without a hitch. However, Elijah hadn’t missed the origin of the insult.
Nor was he meant to, he decided.
Though he kept his eyes to himself, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. Instead, once the dance was finished, he escorted Kaela back to their friends.
“That was interesting,” said Sara.
“What was that guy’s name?” Elijah asked. “The one we met in the park that day.”
The description was vague, mostly because Elijah meant to contain the many insults he wanted to utter. Letting them loose would only make things worse, and in the interest of avoiding embarrassment for Kirlissa, he chose to practice restraint.
For now.
“You’re talking about Cyran.”
“That’s the one. Please tell me he’s still in the tournament,” Elijah said, imagining all the ways he wanted to destroy the pompous dragon. “What’s a half-scale, by the way?”
He’d heard the term a couple of other times, but he’d not really paid it much attention. It was clearly meant as an insult, but that wasn’t enough to get a rise out of him.
“It’s not a civilized term,” Kaela stated.
“It’s supposed to refer to adopted dragons. You know, the ones who were granted cores instead of being born with them,” Alrhok stated. “Did someone call you that?”
As the big dragon spoke, he searched the crowd as if looking for someone to punch. He came away unsatisfied, though. It wasn’t as if anyone was wearing a sign that labeled them a bigot, after all.
“Hmm. Didn’t expect that, but I guess it makes sense.”
“It’s dumb,” Sara insisted. “I don’t know how –”
“That’s just how people are,” Elijah interrupted. “They put themselves into boxes and tell everyone that their box is prettier than everyone else’s box. It makes them feel superior. But it’s fine. I’m not letting it ruin my night.” Then, he looked at Kaela. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” she said, looking away.
“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk about it?” Elijah asked, sensing that there was more to it than he could easily discern. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
She shook her head, then forced a tight smile. “I’m sure you are. But no. The ceremony is soon to commence.”
A part of Elijah wanted to insist that they talk it out, but he held back. He clearly hadn’t earned that kind of trust. Instead, he and the others made small talk until, at last, the familiar voice of the Curator echoed through the false meadow.
“We are gathered here this evening to celebrate the end of the first phase of the Tournament of the First Fang. As you all know…”
Elijah tuned him out.
He already knew what the silver dragon was meant to say, so he instead turned his attention on the surrounding crowd. Some of the younger dragons, he recognized as contestants he’d watched win fights in the arena. But he hadn’t seen every fight, so there were plenty of strangers in there.
But eventually, his gaze settled on Cyran and his retinue.
Oddly enough, the other dragon seemed to sense his stare and turned his own toward Elijah. In the few seconds that followed, Elijah saw a blistering hatred he’d never before sensed. The tightness of his mouth, the narrowed eyes, the tense posture – it all told a story of utter disdain.
Elijah smiled and gave the guy a finger-gun gesture accompanied by a not-so-subtle wink.
That seemed to infuriate the dragon even further.
He stepped away from his companions, though he only made it a single stride before another hand clamped down on his shoulder. He whipped around, clearly ready to direct his ire at whoever had impeded him, but his anger faded the second he laid eyes on the man in question.
The resemblance was uncanny – enough so that only a fool would label the two as anything but father and son. They had the same teal scales, the same sharp features, and the same haughty bearing.
What’s more, the man was obviously a transcendent.
Elijah wasn’t certain how he knew it. There were no billowing clouds of ethera. No oppressive aura. But as sure as anything, Elijah recognized him for what he was.
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He wasn’t cowed, though. Not even when that man focused his own eyes on him. Sure, he felt like an ant staring up at a mountain, but Elijah wasn’t going to let that send him cowering. Instead, he held his shoulders back and gave the man a subtle nod of respect.
That elicited a laugh that Elijah could practically hear across the room.
It all happened in the space of a few seconds, so the Curator had barely had time to scratch the surface of his speech. He continued to drone on and on about the future of the Empire of Scale while Elijah resumed his people-watching.
Then, at last, he concluded. Everyone cheered. And Elijah gave a polite clap.
“Come,” said Kaela, dragging him away from their group. “I would like you to meet someone.” Then, to Alrhok, she said, “Stay.”
“What’d I do?”
“You always get into an argument.”
“Oh. Yeah. Fair enough.”
After Kaela had led him a little away, Elijah asked, “What was that about?”
“Our parents disagree with Alrhok’s vision of his own future,” she explained. “He wants to pursue a hybrid deity evolution, while they wish for him to continue on the earth-warrior path.”
“Oh,” Elijah said, massaging the back of his neck. “Guess that would cause arguments.”
“You have no idea.”
Over the next minute or so, Elijah’s feelings became mixed. On one side, he couldn’t help but feel a tangle of excitement, anxiety, and pleasure by the feel of Kaela’s fingers intertwining with his. But on the other, he definitely wasn’t looking forward to meeting her parents. For one, he didn’t think they’d quite reached that point yet, and for another, he’d never been good at that sort of thing.
As it happened, he didn’t need to stew in those feelings for long before they arrived before a pair of dragons who couldn’t have been anyone but Kaela’s parents. Her father’s bright red scales, which traced whorls across his exposed torso, matched Kaela’s almost perfectly. By contrast, Kaela obviously took after her mother when it came to facial features and hair color.
“Mother, father. This is Elijah Hart es Vyrin.”
“Ah. Kirlissa’s newest project,” said the man. “I watched a few of your fights. Impressive. Druids are not typically so brutal.”
Elijah responded, “Nature tends to be savage, in my experience. As a Druid, I can only endeavor to emulate it.”
He gave a hearty laugh. “Well said, boy.”
Kaela’s mother gave him an appraising look. “Your sense of style is interesting. Who made your suit?”
“A Tailor from home,” Elijah admitted. “Technically, my niece. By marriage.”
“I see. Tell me of your home, child.”
Elijah resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Not much to say, really. Earth was integrated about forty years ago. Maybe fifty. I admit that I lose track.”
“Don’t we all,” said Kaela’s father, clapping him on the shoulder along the way. He’d clearly pulled his blow, but it nearly sent Elijah sprawling anyway. “I once spent an entire century on an Ancestral World. Felt more like a week. When I got back, I was a bit surprised to find a few of my whelps having grown into adulthood.”
“Ancestral World?” Elijah asked. He’d heard the term more than once, but he had to admit that he didn’t really know what to think of it. As far as he could tell, it referred to something more than a Primal Realm, though he wasn’t entirely sure about the difference.
“Ah, you’ll see,” the man said cryptically. He gave an exaggerated wink. “Soon enough, you’ll know all about Ancestral Worlds. Assuming you’re half the dragon I think you are.”
“I don’t –”
“Do not get ahead of yourself, little Sola,” came a haughty voice that cut through the conversation like a knife. “The boy has barely established himself as a dragon, much less one worthy of entering Orveth Kaal.”
Elijah turned to the newcomer only to find a familiar face looking down on him. It was the transcendent he’d seen across the meadow, and Cyran stood behind him, anxiously wringing his hands.
The transcendent was much taller than Elijah’s first glimpse had led him to expect. Perhaps nine feet tall, and that was probably a conservative estimate. He was slender, though his proportions tended toward grace rather than emaciation. His aquamarine scales shimmered, and when Elijah focused a little closer, he saw raging storms within them.
Like his son, he wore a toga-like garment that stretched into a long skirt. It hid his feet. His features wavered between elven aesthetics and something even more foreign to Elijah’s eyes. He couldn’t really place it, save to recognize it as ageless, inhuman, and god-like.
“Bah!” said Kaelari’s father. “Every child here will qualify, mark my words. And I have repeatedly asked you not to refer to me as ‘little’ Sola.”
“You will always be little Sola to me,” said the transcendent dragon. “Call it a mentor’s prerogative. It was not that long ago that you were my pupil.”
“It’s been more than a thousand years!”
“Just so,” agreed the tall dragon, no small amount of affection in those pair of words. “Kaelari. My son tells me that you have done quite well in the tournament. I do wish you good fortune, at least until you meet young Cyran in the arena. You will permit a father’s indulgence, I am sure.”
“Your support will not change the outcome,” she stated evenly. “I will not be merciful.”
The dragon laughed heartily at that. “Nor should that be an expectation. If he falls to you, then so be it!”
Then, the dragon said, “Sola. I must beg your accompaniment. We have business to discuss.” He focused on Kaela’s mother. He extended an elegant hand, saying, “You must come as well, of course.”
She took it, though Elijah could see the tiniest of trembles when she did.
“Mingle amongst yourselves, children,” he ordered as he led the pair away.
“You look quite beautiful, Kaelari,” Cyran said with all the passion of a recitation of a math problem. Then, he focused on Elijah. “Such a waste.”
“For what it’s worth, I agree. I am in no way fit for her attention,” Elijah stated. “But then again, I don’t think anyone here can make that claim.” He gave a deep bow. “I will endeavor to remedy that through constant improvement, for some day, I hope to prove my worth in her eyes.”
Kaela giggled.
“Playing the clown. I suppose that is all you have,” said Cyran.
“It’s served me well so far.”
Cyran stepped forward. “You insult me with your flippant attitude.”
“You insult yourself by not recognizing when nobody wants you around,” Elijah pointed out. “Read the room, man.”
His jaw flexed as he stared daggers at Elijah. But he didn’t move.
“I hope we meet in the coming rounds, so I can teach you a valuable lesson,” Cyran said.
“On that we agree. But I think you should worry more about her,” Elijah said, nodding toward Kaela. Her scales shimmered a little more with every passing second, and the temperature had already begun to rise.
“Go away, Cyran,” she said.
He all but rolled his eyes. “One day, you will acknowledge my worth,” he said evenly.
Then, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Only when he was gone did Elijah even notice the white-scaled dragon nearby. Skahan was his name, though Elijah hadn’t even recognized he was there.
That marked him as a dangerous foe.
He looked down his nose at Elijah, but he didn’t say anything before turning to follow Cyran.
Kaela let out a deep breath. “I apologize for that.”
“No need,” Elijah said. Hearing the upbeat turn to the music, he asked, “Would you like to dance again? I think I can mambo to this.”