“Can I help? Can I help?”
Reecah stared at the raven. It returned her gaze, turning its head from side to side. Without warning it squawked and took flight, banging into the stained-glass door and falling to the ground. It righted itself and flapped at the door, cawing incessantly.
“Raver! If you break a wing, Grimelda will cook you.” Grimelda admonished the spastic bird.
Reecah jumped. She hadn’t heard the witch approach. Her great-aunt’s words did little to calm her nerves.
Grimelda carried a plate-sized object, its obsidian surface refracting the flickering candlelight.
“Is that what I think it is?” Reecah asked, forgetting about the raven.
“Yes, my child. A dragon scale.”
“May I touch it?”
Grimelda handed it to her.
She almost dropped it, it was so heavy. “Wow. I’ve never held a black one.
“I don’t imagine you have. They are only found on ancient male dragons, and ancient dragons are becoming rarer as the years pass. The dragon hunt has seen to that.”
Reecah tried to hand the scale back.
Grimelda shook her head. “No, that’s for you. When I tell you, dip it into the bowl.”
Reecah positioned the scale near the bowl’s south rim.
“Not until I tell you,” Grimelda warned, and sat on her stool. She laid her hands on the northeast and northwest rims of the bowl and threw her head back. A strange noise escaped her throat.
Reecah nearly dropped the scale.
Grimelda’s eyes rolled back into her head as she chanted in an unfamiliar language.
It took Reecah a few moments to realize she understood the meaning of Grimelda’s words. The witch intoned the runic language—strange to hear it spoken aloud after so many years. Grimelda spoke faster than Reecah could follow. Concentrating hard, she absently registered the raven had stopped fussing and was hopping up the aisle toward them.
Grimelda completed her chant with a dramatic emphasis on the last words, “Ventus ambil!”
Grimelda’s eyes flicked back, their intensity, frightening.
“Now child! Immerse the scale, but don’t let go.” Grimelda’s wispy hair shook, vehemently directing Reecah to do as she was bidden.
Reecah gaped, afraid of what was to come. As the dragon scale broke the liquid’s surface, a peculiar presence invaded her body. She tried to release the scale and distance herself from the rite, but she no longer controlled her movements.
Visions of the ocean flashed past her, hundreds of feet below, leaving her reeling with vertigo. The shoreline north of the Summoning Stone disappeared as the cliffs wheeled up before her. She scrunched her face in anticipation of slamming into the side of the mountainside, only to feel her momentum change. She stared up at the clouds, a steep mountain façade whooshing by her side.
A mournful cry pierced her brain and she fell from the sky.
Dirty Bird
If not for Grimelda, Reecah would have hit the floor harder than she did.
Accepting Grimelda’s hand, she rose shaking, balancing herself against the counter. The shelves tilted back and her equilibrium slowly returned.
The brass bowl lay on the floor beside her, the vertex between the southern rim and the southwest dented—the foreign liquid dissolving into the floorboards in a haze of acrid smoke. The dragon scale lay unaffected amid the spill.
Reecah gazed into the witch’s eyes, her mind spinning. “What just happened?”
“Come, child, we need fresh air.” Grimelda steered Reecah toward the door. “Raver, to me.”
The raven jumped into the air from a shelf near the front of the shop and alit on Grimelda’s shoulder.
Approaching the stained-glass door, Grimelda muttered something too fast for Reecah to comprehend and the locks clicked open.
Reecah was surprised at how woozy she felt. She let Grimelda help lower her to the flagstone steps before sitting down beside her.
A cool breeze swept off the ocean, its rolling surface barely visible beneath the new moon.
“Tell me what happened,” Grimelda said.
“What happened? What happened?”
“Shoo, you dirty bird or I’ll cook you.” Grimelda shrugged her shoulder and Raver flew to the outstretched wing of a flying dragon statue at the base of the steps.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I remember dipping the dragon scale into the bowl and then…” Reecah shook her head.
“And then?”
“And then…it was as if I was flying. Over the ocean.” The vision came back to her. “I flew north of the Summoning Stone. I know the shoreline well. I’ve been there many times.”
“With Viliyam.”
Reecah shook her head. “No, by myself.”
Grimelda raised her eyebrows. “That’s dragon country up there. Dangerous for people.”
“Ya, that’s what Grammy said. Whenever she found out she gave me the cane.” A rueful smile creased her lips at the painful memory. “Anyway, I flew at the mountainside. I thought I was going to hit it but I shot straight into the sky. And then…I don’t know. An intense pain filled my head and I fell. The next thing I knew, you were holding me.”
Grimelda’s face darkened. “Tell me, child, what exactly were you flying?”
“I wasn’t flying anything. I flew on my own…at least I think I did.”
Grimelda nodded slowly. “Interesting.”
“Does it mean I have the gift?”
“I honestly don’t know what it means. There’s something different about you, but I’ve no idea what.”
“Great.” Reecah swallowed. She always knew she was different. She assumed it was because she lived up on the hill. Perhaps the villagers were right to pick on her.
“The good thing, my child, is that you’re not normal.”
Reecah flashed Grimelda an ungrateful smirk. Shivering in the night air, she stared at the whitecaps rolling into shore, eternally crashing and receding, only to crash again.
Grimelda wrapped a scrawny arm around Reecah’s shoulder. “One thing I do know, Reecah Draakvriend. The way your hair sample responded to the scrying liquid was unique. In all my years I’ve never seen that happen. Nor have I heard anyone experience what you claim.”
“So, I’m a freak.”
Grimelda tightened her hold, pulling Reecah in close. “Not so much a freak. More like...special.”
“Ya, real special. No one likes me. Everybody makes fun of me, and now I’m all alone.” Reecah hung her head, fighting the urge to cry.
Grimelda’s bony fingers lifted Reecah’s chin and looked her in the eyes. “I never want to hear you talk like that again. You’re never alone as long as you have me.”
“You have me! You have me!”
Through watery eyes, Reecah followed Grimelda’s disgusted glare.
Raver bobbed his head up and down—the faint moonlight glinting off his beady eyes.
Grimelda shook her head. “Go on you dirty bird, before I pluck you.”
Reecah spurted out a laugh.
Poppa’s Deception
Reecah clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth trying to coax Raver from his perch in the corner of Grimelda’s Clutch. “Come on. You want breakfast?”
“Stupid bird,” Grimelda said sitting behind the counter on a tall stool, slopping oatmeal into her mouth. “He ain’t worth the bother.” She leaned toward the raven, her voice changing to a higher pitch. “Are you? You’re a dirty bird. Momma should stuff you.”
Raver turned his head to the side and blinked.
Reecah smiled. “He’s so cute. Where’d you get him.”
“Cute? Pfft,” Grimelda grunted. “A royal pain in the arse, more like. I caught him to use in a spell, but I never got around to performing it.”
Reecah stopped chewing, envisioning the witch carving up Raver on the marble altar in the cellar.
Grimelda must have noticed Reecah’s appalled glare. “Bah. The ug
ly bird’s lucky I don’t dig that spell back up.”
Reecah wasn’t sure if her aunt was serious or not. “Don’t you listen to her, Raver. I think you’re a pretty bird.”
Raver’s head bobbed up and down. “Pretty bird! Pretty bird!”
“Don’t encourage him. He’ll get a fat head.” Grimelda slid off her stool and shuffled around the counter with her stick to stand in front of Reecah. “Now, what to do with you? I’m going to need time to investigate what your episode with the scrying bowl meant.”
Reecah glanced at the vessel in question. After waiting for the air to clear in the shop last night, they had cleaned up the mess and retired in the back room where Grimelda kept a cot. Reecah had slept on the cold, stone floor without complaint. She didn’t know anything different.
Reecah undid the thong holding the end of her braid, doing her best to gather the loose ends and tighten it up again. “I was just thinking. I came to the village searching for someone.”
“Who?”
“I’m not sure. Someone to teach me how to use Poppa’s weapons.”
Grimelda nodded. “To protect yourself. Not a bad idea.”
“Actually, I want to become a hunter.”
“A hunter?”
“A dragon hunter. Like Poppa.”
Grimelda leaned back. “A dragon hunter? Really?”
Reecah picked up on her aunt’s hesitation. “Why? Because I’m a woman?”
Instead of replying, Grimelda retrieved Reecah’s weapons.
Reecah went to help her, but Grimelda lifted them with apparent ease. The witch’s walking stick was nothing more than a prop. Full of surprises, Grimelda shuffled past and slipped through the curtain.
Reecah followed on her heels.
Grimelda approached a dusty shelf and unceremoniously pitched Viliyam’s weapons onto the lower section of four.
“What are you doing?” Reecah stepped between Grimelda and the shelf. “Those are Poppa’s.”
“You don’t need them anymore.”
“I don’t care whether I need them or not, I’m taking them.” She retrieved Poppa’s quarterstaff and examined it for damage.
“Suit yourself, child,” Grimelda said from the far side of the dimly lit room. “Though I think you’ll be hard put carrying them while burdened with these.”
Reecah peered over Grimelda’s shoulder. Her breath caught.
Grimelda’s gnarled fingers pulled back an oiled leather cloth, revealing an assortment of stunningly wrought weapons. Three arming swords, a dagger, and an unusual black bow—its matching quiver etched with the same markings as the bow.
“Where’d you get those?”
“Belonged to my mother. Your great-grandma. When she died, she gave Lizzy the book and I got these. We thought she erred in her choices but I’m beginning to think she did so for a reason.”
“How so?” Reecah leaned in to take a closer look. “May I?”
Grimelda stepped back. “I believe your great-grandmother knew that Lizzy and I weren’t the ones to carry on her legacy, and therefore gave me, the one with an aptitude for magic, her weapons, knowing full well I wouldn’t use them. It seems the same held true with Lizzy. She was given a magical journal that was of no use to her.”
Reecah processed little of what her great-aunt said, her mind preoccupied with the wondrous weapons before her. She gave the bow a quick look over before grabbing one of the sheathed swords—the one without the fancy, circular guard. She pulled it free of its leather scabbard and admired its perfect balance—much less cumbersome than Poppa’s. Though she was taller than the average woman, the length suited her perfectly.
“Now, about Viliyam.”
Something in Grimelda’s tone made Reecah stiffen. She swallowed and lowered the sword, her hazel eyes searching the crone’s.
“Do you know why your grandfather participated in the dragon hunt?”
Reecah shook her head at the strange question. All the men in Fishmonger Bay were expected to do their part safeguarding the community. “Because it was his duty?” she half asked, sensing her great-aunt was about to tell her differently.
“Aye, as you well know he had no choice in the matter. But, do you know why he made certain he was not only the best tracker available, but the only tracker to remain alive each season?”
Reecah shook her head.
“To lead the hunt away from the dragons.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Viliyam made it his business to preserve the magical beasts as best he could. He went out of his way to lead the hunt astray. To keep them away from the main dragon warrens.”
“But…but he often came back battered and bloody. It was his job to locate the nesting holes and urge the babies into the open so that Jonas and the others could dispose of them.”
Grimelda offered her a patient smile. “That is what he led everyone to believe. In fact, he purposely found the most roundabout route to the outlying warrens—dragging the hunters over exhausting terrain. Their journeys took much longer than they should have.”
Reecah thought of her recent spying adventures and how easy it had been to get ahead of the hunting party. She never stopped to wonder why it took them so long to access parts of the mountains that she could reach in half the time. She just figured she was smarter than them. If what Grimelda said was true, Jonas and the hunters were following the routes Poppa had set out for them years ago. Routes that led them needlessly off track.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because your grandfather was a student of your great-grandmother. That’s how he met Lizzy.”
Reecah slid the sword into its black leather scabbard and replaced it on the shelf. She’d never met her great-grandmother. “I’m sorry, I’m not following you.”
Grimelda grasped her hands. “You come from a line of dragon friends.”
“Dragon friends?”
Grimelda nodded. “There aren’t many of us left. I don’t know of any others like us except for perhaps a family in Cliff Face, far to the north.”
“Others like us?”
“Don’t you see? Our family is trying to preserve the dragons, lest the high king’s men kill them all. The high king is unhappy that mankind is not at the top of the food chain.”
“The high king is justified in his thinking. Dragons are dangerous. They killed Poppa, my parents and uncle Davit.”
“Oh, they most certainly are dangerous. Deadly, in fact, to those who provoke them.” Grimelda’s twisted features softened. She released one of Reecah’s hands and patted the other. “Your family died defending the dragons.”
“That’s not what Grammy said.”
Grimelda’s smile filled with compassion. “Lizzy could never accept their deaths. Had your parents not intervened on the dragons’ behalf, a greater travesty would have occurred. Unfortunately, their measures cost them their lives. Your grandmother was never able to bring herself to see beyond that. She believed that in order to protect you, she needed to distance herself from me. She made Viliyam promise never to mention our family’s heritage. Poor Lizzy. I cannot fault her. You were all she had left.”
Reecah pulled free of Grimelda’s grasp and paced around the storage room, pondering her words. She found it hard to digest the news of Poppa’s deception, but the more she thought of her time with him, distant memories faded as they may be, the more Grimelda’s words made sense. Poppa had revered the dragons like he had all living creatures.
She stopped in front of Grimelda, wanting to ask her more about her best friend—of what else Poppa had kept from her. As much as she understood he acted in deference to Grammy’s wishes, Reecah couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the one person who had meant the world to her.
Grimelda interrupted her thoughts. “Take those weapons. They’re yours.”
Reecah swallowed her pain. “They’re useless to me.”
Grimelda grasped her hands and squeezed. “Think, child. You have been granted a gift. Use it.
You have a chance to honour Viliyam’s memory.”
“And join the dragon hunt? After what you just said?”
“Pick up where Viliyam left off. You’re young and strong. Stronger by far than your Poppa ever was. You possess the Windwalker gift.”
“Windwalker?”
“Your great-grandmother’s family name. One that is not to be mentioned lightly. There are many who would kill you on sight should they discover your true lineage.”
Reecah struggled to comprehend Grimelda’s meaning. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to join the dragon hunt, but not kill the dragons?”
“Not just join the hunt, lead it.”
“But, I’m a woman.”
“Exactly!”
Reecah’s brows furrowed. “And who’s going to train me?”
Grimelda’s face lit up in an evil grin. “Why, Jonas, of course.”
Parlay with the Enemy
Jonas’ eldest daughter, Janice, answered the door. If not for her eternal scowl, Reecah thought the blonde-haired woman would be attractive—she carried her broad frame well, if a little hunched.
The ample busted woman sneered. “What do you want?”
Reecah let her cloak open to reveal two circular sword hilts extending from a brown leather belt cinched that was attached to a wide, leather cummerbund for added support. She threw her shoulders back to accentuate her bust and flicked her bangs from her eyes—her thin braid flapping around her waist.
Janice gave her a quick once over and rolled her eyes. “Be gone with you, wench. You think you’re so special. Decent folk want nothing to do with tripe like you.”
Janice went to close the door but a blonde-haired boy, standing a head taller than either of them, came up behind her.
“Who are you talking to?” Jonas Junior asked with a snarl. His blue eyes took in Reecah. His dour face softened. “Oh!”
Junior cast his sister a dark glare. “Where’s your manners? It’s no wonder you’re still a maiden.” Smiling wide, his eyes scanned Reecah from head to foot. “Reecah Draakvriend. Wow…I-I mean, um, what are you doing here?”
Reecah's Flight Page 6
