by Zora Marie
She could feel a rough warm pelt against her cheek and shifted towards it, enjoying its comfort.
“Easy, you were in the water for a while,” a young voice cracked beside her.
She opened her eyes and shot away from his towering form leaning over her.
“Careful, I won’t hurt you. My name is Dotchavitch.” He reached for her, but she edged away. “Do you understand me?”
She nodded, grasping for yet another language she and Alrindel loved to use.
“So, you understand me. I pulled you from the water, remember?”
She stared at him blankly, she didn’t remember anything the blond-haired boy had just said, but she was still damp.
“What were you doing way out there?”
She leaned back and glanced at the large-grained door.
“You can go if you want, but there’s no way off the island right now.” He removed something from a chest of drawers on the left side of the room. “Here, how about you change into something dry? It’ll be big on you, but it’ll be warmer than that.”
He laid some woven clothing on the bed and stepped out of the hut.
Now alone, she got up and peered through the crack in the door. She shivered against the cool draft and rubbed her arm, only to find her dress in tattered shreds. The boy walked away from the hut and she turned to the clothes he had left. Her joints, stiff from being damp, and cold, made her slow to change. Just as she tied the top of the woven tunic, so it covered her scars there was a light knock at the door.
She stopped and stared at the door, not sure how to answer.
“You okay?”
The door squealed a little as it opened and she sat on the bed, pulling the fur blanket around her.
“Can you speak?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zelia.”
“Zelia? Can’t say I’ve heard that name before.” He gave her a faint, but warm smile. “Where are you from?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Her stomach growled, and she clenched the blanket as she pulled it closer.
“Sounds like someone’s hungry.” Zelia blushed, unsure of how to answer him. He offered her a hand. “Well come on, it’s about time for dinner, anyways. Besides, my father will want to speak with you.”
For a second she saw Rogath instead of Dotchavitch and shrunk back as what Rog had said charged to the surface.
“I don’t bite, not hard, anyways.”
She stood on her own, and Dotchavitch wiped his hand down his blue tunic.
“So, I have to warn you, my friends are rather… strange. Oh, and one of the twins can’t talk and the other is a little… slow, so think nothing about it if they never say anything to you.”
Why can’t they talk? Have they had their tongue cut out? No, not if they’re his age. Besides, what could they have done for that sort of punishment? Unless… Her teeth clenched and pushed back the images of torturing people.
“You cold?”
“Just remembering…”
Dotchavitch paused in the doorway, staring at her for a moment before stepping out into the waning light.
They met two pairs of scraggly teens before they even cleared the shadow of the building. The twins shoved one another as they bickered back and forth. She couldn’t make out what the one was yelling, but the girl stomped and waved her hands in his face, her face flushed with rage.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding the last few days.” the youngest and scrawniest of the misfit group said.
“Guys meet Zelia. I found her on a shore a few islands over,” Dotchavitch said. “Zelia meet Fifthry, Johnol, and the twins Senth and Sligh.” He pointed them out.
She gave a slight nod of her head and shifted her feet under their gaze.
“What were you doing there?” Fifthry, the girl with fiery red hair, asked.
Should I lie? Would they believe me if I told the truth or think me insane? Would I have believed me? No. “I don’t remember.”
“She was unconscious when I found her. I think she may be a survivor of that attack we found the wreckage of the other day.”
As she watched them, dragons approached. Their voices reverberated through her mind, almost like Rog, only their voices were so loud it almost hurt her to hear them.
“I don’t know about this one. Stardust, where did you get this one exactly?” a high-pitched voice bounced through her head.
“We picked her out of some ice, she was half frozen.”
Zelia glanced around at the dragons that had gathered and took note of which dragon she thought went to which rider. Listening to them, she could tell their colors matched their personalities, the bright red dragon seemed to be hot headed and authoritative, with a hint of misplaced sass towards the dark blue dragon who was the strongest of them. While the light blue dragon stood back from the conversation. His disinterested expression reminded her of the cool water of the tide, heeding itself only to the will of the moon as it crosses the sky.
The red dragon with spikes tipped in yellow flared her nose and pulled her scent in. “She smells funny, like fire and…” She sniffed the air again. “And some other magic. Anyone know where Raven is? She would know.”
“Nope, haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Hm, then let’s find out.”
Zelia watched as Dotchavitch’s eyes widened, but he was too late to react when a wave of heat came over her from behind. Dotchavitch and his friends screamed and ran to stop the dragon. She only managed to put up a small wall of ice before the flames engulfed her and she collapsed to her knees, shielding herself from the fire.
“NO! Gulepia! Bad dragon!” Fifthry screamed over the others as the dragon’s breath bathed Zelia in fire.
Zelia struggled with the need to latch onto the flames surrounding her, her core still chilled with ice. She gasped as her heart shuddered and rubbed against the shrapnel in her chest in a way it hadn’t yet done. Her concentration faltered, and the ice wall shattered. Shards of ice rained across her back, propelled by the dragon’s breath, some going deeper than others. As she fell forward, the flames subsided.
She struggled to cough as she sucked in ashes, then her breaths became slow and shallow. The world seemed to slow, then something rolled her to her back.
“Zelia? You… you’re going to be okay.”
She could tell Dotchavitch was trying to convince himself more than her. Her head lolled as he shook her and she wondered how long it had been since she’d last blinked.
“Shh. I can’t hear her heart.”
Johnol came into view for a moment, then she could feel something press against her chest.
“She’s cold?” He snapped in front of her eyes, but she couldn’t even force herself to react. “Dotch, I… I think she’s gone.”
“But how? She’s not even burnt.”
She glimpsed blood as Dotch slid his hand out from beneath her.
Dotch’s jaw quivered for a moment before he wiped the hair from her face and gently closed her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have let the dragons get so close to her, not so soon after the dragon trappers.”
“We having a burial?” Johnol asked.
“It was my dragon that did it, I’ll help you build it,” Fifthry’s voice shook and the charred grass crunched.
“I’ll take her inside until it’s ready.”
“At least we know her name and can give her a proper send off.”
Inside, Zelia struggled to tell them she was still there, but she was trapped. She could feel the warmth of furs as Dotch laid her on a bed.
Dotchavitch! Please, I’m still here. She begged, even knowing no one could hear her.
The cool breeze from outside ended as the door closed and they left her alone, trapped in her own mind. She tried to focus on what she could feel around her, to keep thoughts of her past from creeping in, but she was helpless to keep them away.
Just as she thought she had los
t, the door squealed as it opened and the cool draft returned.
“Poor girl, just as things were looking up,” the voice was the same as the one just before she woke. “Well come on, it’s not right to keep her here.”
“No, I’ll carry her,” Dotch said.
“Alright, I’ll get the door.”
A hand ran under her back, and this time it didn’t hurt. Dotch lifted her from the bed and she shivered as he carried her outside.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“She shivered.”
“She’s dead, she can’t shiver.” There was a sigh, and something brushed against her knees. “Son, I know you feel responsible for her, but it’s too late, she’s gone. Come on, it’s time to let her go and the others are waiting. At least she will get a proper send off, which is more than can be said for the rest of her people.”
“Dotch…” she tried to force words to her lips, but they wouldn’t quite come.
As a light spray of sea water misted her face, she managed to move, nuzzling against Dotchavitch. She heard a splash, then he set her on something hard that moved up and down with the lapping of water against wood. As Dotchavitch moved away, his hand brushed hers and she grabbed it.
“Please don’t leave me,” she breathed the words and opened her eyes.
She could just make out Dotch’s figure against the fire and starlight that shone behind him. He shook his head as he jumped back.
“No, you… you’re dead,” he nearly screamed.
She shook her head as she sat up. Her whole body tingled as if it were a muscle that had fallen asleep. There were a few gasps and whispers from the dark figures that lined the shore.
“What are you?” Dotch’s father questioned as he placed himself between her and Dotch.
“I don’t know how to answer that.” She turned away, her shame of what she is rising to the surface. “I wish I did.”
“How are you alive?”
“I don’t die, not really, anyway. I just get trapped.” She shivered, rubbing her arms as she scanned the open water, her gaze stopping on the flames. “I understand if you no longer want me here, but…”
“Come on.” Dotch stepped around his father and offered her a hand. “I guess I should introduce you. This is my father, Chief Gondavitch.”
“Thank you.”
She gave a slight nod to Gondavitch and took Dotch’s hand. As she stepped over the edge of the wooden boat, her legs buckled and Dotch caught her.
“You alright?”
“I will be, it just takes a while.”
“This has happened before?” he asked as they moved closer to the open stone fire ring, the crowd parting as people stared.
“Not this exactly, but yes.” She found it hard to look him in the eye as she asked, “May… may I explain later?”
He gave a slight sigh as he helped her perch herself by the fire.
“I’ll talk to father. Johnol, get her something to eat and make sure everyone leaves her alone.”
She turned away from the staring crowd and closed her eyes, trying to let the warmth of the fire creep in.
“Here you go.”
Johnol handed her a wooden bowl of fishy smelling soup. For a second she thought to turn it down, but her hands shook, a reminder she needed to eat. She took a quick swallow and tried to ignore the fishy taste as she turned back to the flames.
“So, what are you,?” Johnol asked.
“I don’t know anymore. I used to think I did, but…” her words trailed off and she opened her eyes, “things change.”
She watched the flames in front of her, how they flickered around with the shifts in the wind. Then something gliding across the sky caught her eye.
Johnol raised his head, then let out a sharp whistle, calling the villagers to silence.
“She’s back.”
Dotch pulled Johnol back as a dragon landed behind her.
“What about Zelia!” Johnol protested.
“Get our dragons.”
“So, the rumors and stories are true. The girl with the dragon tongue and control of fire and ice has finally come to our shores,” the dragon’s voice reverberated through her head. “I have heard rumors of your existence for years now. But feared I would not live to see the day you should turn up here to learn.”
She turned around, sitting with her legs beneath her and her back to the fire. The dragon before her was a midnight black, and she felt drawn to her for a reason she couldn’t explain.
The dragon gave a great bow of her head. “Since word of your creation came to our shores, I vowed that you would be my rider. Being that, I, too, control fire and ice, I believe we are meant for each other. Though I wonder how you look so young. By my count, you should be nearing five hundred years old.”
Zelia struggled to reply, unsure of how to respond, so she said the only thing she could. “It’s true that I am near five hundred. What is your name?”
The black dragon puffed out her chest with pride as she replied, “My name is Raven, and what should I call you?”
“A fitting name. I’m Zelia.”
As soon as she said her name, she questioned herself. But why? I’m no longer that person.
“You’re talking to her?” Gondavitch demanded, looking aghast.
For a moment all she could do was nod as memories swirled around her thoughts, pieces of her life with Eadon, Koin, and Alrindel.
“Zelia? What troubles you?” the tone in Raven’s voice was almost motherly.
“Something I used to have.”
Raven lowered her head into Zelia’s reach and she found herself entranced by how her scales felt beneath her fingers. Each scale was as smooth as the flat of an elvish blade with the curve of a flower petal. Raven was as black as the deepest and darkest of caves and her grey eyes seemed to pierce into your very soul. The other dragons had eyes that reflected light, but her eyes showed no reaction to the light of the fire. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to the dragon who all but disappeared in the dark of night.
“What do you mean something you used to have?”
Zelia jumped as Dotch now stood right beside her.
“Kin,” she shook her head, remembering the differences in language, “a family.”
For the first time in years, she reflected on that night.
“They made this happen.”
She lifted her hand, calling the flame to jump to her. As soon as it touched her, she put the flame out with a clenched fist. Her hand now covered in cracks and bleeding.
“You see, I’m not like you Raven. I don’t belong anywhere.”
“But you are. Come, I want to show you something.”
Raven settled down beside her so she could climb on, and Zelia turned to Dotchavitch.
“Go on, but I’ll be waiting for you.”
She stared at him with a question in her eyes.
“All of our dragons chose us. It’s what separates us from the trappers. Go on.”
Once they had taken off, she glanced back at the villagers, they all stood staring up at her.
With a heavy sigh, she looked across the island and absorbed the view as it lit up in the dim light of the half moon. With eyesight that even surpassed that of Elves and Lumid, she could see it clear as day. The island was large enough a normal person could gaze in all directions from the highest hill and not see the ocean surrounding it. Framing the northern corner of the island was a sheer rock formation, a stream trickling down to a small pond surrounded by trees. The trees gave way to open pastures dotted with sheep and the occasional wild rabbit.
The village was on the southernmost point and had an assortment of homes. Some were dug into the dirt to avoid the wind off of the water, while others stood tall made of a mixture of timber and stone. She couldn’t help but feel out of place as she had spent all of her life living among the trees and then held captive in a cave.
She laid back on Raven and looked up at the stars as they flew off
into the night sky. The higher she got into the sky the farther she could see. The constellation Hyperia belonged to came into her line of sight. She couldn’t help but long to return there, but she knew she never could, not after what she had done.
“We’re here.” Raven eased to a stop on the next island in the chain.
Zelia slid off at the edge of a beautiful waterfall. The moon reflected off the rippling pool of water and eased her nerves. Then Raven disappeared behind the waterfall.
A cave, why is it always a cave? She hesitated as she stared at the water.
Raven peeked out from behind the water. “You’ll be safe here, I promise.”
Raven held her wing over her as she passed beneath the rushing water. Once inside, the dragon lit up the dark cavern by lighting a fire from deep inside her fire lung. As she did, the true beauty of the cave came to life. Light reflected in all directions off the stalactites dripping down from the ceiling.
“I crack and bleed just like you. That’s why the trappers left me here to die, now it is a reminder of how sometimes the darkest nights can lead us to the most beautiful things. Listen.”
The wind blowing through the cave sang as it twirled around the rock formations above their heads. The hum of the wind reminded Zelia of a song she once heard Eleanor sing. Zelia hummed along with the haunting melody. It wasn’t long before her humming turned into singing aloud with the melody of the wind. No real words to the ears of humans, but rather the ancient music of the Elves with its angelic melodies. It was the first time she had sung in over three hundred years as fear of punishment had kept her from singing even after being freed from the wizards. She found some peace in singing.
20
When Zelia stirred from her slumber, she didn’t even open her eyes. She just lay there listening to Raven’s heartbeat. Raven stretched beneath her.
“I should get you back.”
“Raven, do you think they’ll accept me for what I am?”
“They’ve accepted the dragons.”
“But—”
“Zelia, you’ll be fine. Now come on.”
It was still well before sunrise when they returned to Dragon Island. As they passed overhead, she could see Dotchavitch sitting at the fire pit’s edge, watching for her. Part of her knew he had stayed up, waiting for her to return, but she wasn’t ready to face him.
